in his web, while he was whetting his appetite with suspended hope, in
dream of anticipated fattenings.

We made the best of our way to the watering-place haunt of the deer.
Silence was the word, and we crept on tip-toe and tip-toe, scarce
breathing, keeping ever out of the wind's course; for they have an
ear of silk, and an eye of light, and a scent so exquisite that they
could, if it were possible, hear the tread, see the essence, and scent
the breath, of a spirit. This watering haunt was in a lonely glen,
which was commanded, within pistol-shot, by a small clump of trees,
which were under-grown by brushwood and brambles, and wherein we
ambushed ourselves. Ay, there it was, the "gory bed," where "this day
a stag must die," just one hundred yards from that said clump. Hush,
hush, silence, silence, "Swallow your brith," says Jammie Hogg, hush,
"Heck, cack, a," says the monkey, "the deevil tak' the monkey," says
Jammie, "whist, whist, hush!"

(_To be concluded in our next_.)

* * * * *



THE SELECTOR; AND LITERARY NOTICES OF _NEW WORKS_.

* * * * *

THE GEORGIAN ERA.

(_Concluded from page 124_.)