The eyes did not notice me, but sparkled with glee on beholding
Sancho, my beautiful black and white setter, that was coursing
about the field with its muzzle to the ground. The little creature
raised its face and called aloud to the dog. The good-natured
animal paused, looked up, and wagged his tail, but made no further
advances. The child (a little boy, apparently about five years
old) scrambled up to the top of the wall, and called again and
again; but finding this of no avail, apparently made up his mind,
like Mahomet, to go to the mountain, since the mountain would not
come to him, and attempted to get over; but a crabbed old cherry-
tree, that grew hard by, caught him by the frock in one of its
crooked scraggy arms that stretched over the wall. In attempting
to disengage himself his foot slipped, and down he tumbled - but
not to the earth; - the tree still kept him suspended. There was a
silent struggle, and then a piercing shriek; - but, in an instant,
I had dropped my gun on the grass, and caught the little fellow in
my arms.

I wiped his eyes with his frock, told him he was all right and
called Sancho to pacify him. He was just putting little hand on
the dog's neck and beginning to smile through his tears, when I
heard behind me a click of the iron gate, and a rustle of female
garments, and lo! Mrs. Graham darted upon me - her neck uncovered,
her black locks streaming in the wind.

'Give me the child!' she said, in a voice scarce louder than a
whisper, but with a tone of startling vehemence, and, seizing the
boy, she snatched him from me, as if some dire contamination were
in my touch, and then stood with one hand firmly clasping his, the