was entirely hid by the surrounding snow, nothing being visible but its red swelling head, and long proud neck. If the bird was injured by any bullet that struck below the snow, it was still to continue the property of its present owner, but if a feather was touched in a visible part, the animal became the prize of the successful adventurer.

"Stand out of the way there, boys!" cried the wood-chopper, who was placing himself at the shooting-point-"stand out of the way, you little rascals, or I will shoot through you. Now, Brom (the negro), you may say good-bye to that turkey."

"Don't be boasting, Billy Kirby," said Natty, throwing the breech of his rifle into the snow, and leaning on its barrel. "Maybe it's true that I can't shoot as I used to could, but a hundred yards is but a short distance for a long rifle."

'What, old Leatherstocking, are you out this morning?" cried his reckless opponent. "Well, fair play's a jewel. But I've the lead of you, old fellow; so here goes, for a dry throat or a good dinner."

The countenance of the negro evinced not only all the interest which his pecuniary adventure might occasion, but also the keen excitement that the sport produced in the others, though with a very different wish as to the result. While the wood-chopper was slowly and steadily raising his rifle, he exclaimed-" Fair play-Billy Kirby-stand back-make 'em stand back, boysgib a nigger fair play-poss-up-gobbler; shake a head, fool; don't a see 'em pokin gun at 'em?"

These cries, which were intended as much to distract the attention of the marksman, as for anything else, were, however, fruitless. The nerves of the wood-chopper were not so easily shaken, and he took his aim with the utmost deliberation. The dead stillness of expectation prevailed for a moment, and he fired. The head of the turkey was seen to dash on one side, and its wings were spread in momentary fluttering; but it settled itself down calmly into its bed of snow, and glanced its eyes uneasily around. For a time long enough to draw a deep breath not a sound was heard. The silence was then broken by the noise of the negro, who laughed, and shook his body, with all kinds of antics, rolling over in the snow with the excess of his delight.

The mirth of Brom vanished the instant that Natty took his stand. By this time the old hunter was ready for his business, and throwing his right leg far behind him, and stretching his left

arm along the barrel of his piece, he raised it towards the bird. Every eye glanced rapidly from the marksman to the mark, but at the moment when each ear was expecting the report of the rifle, they were disappointed by the ticking sound of the flint only.

"A snap-a snap," shouted the negro, springing from his crouching posture, like a madman, before his bird. "A snap as good as a fire-Natty Bumppo gun he snap-Natty Bumppo miss a turkey!"

"Natty Bumppo hit a nigger," said the indignant old hunter, "if you don't get out of the way, Brom. It's contrary to the reason of the thing, boy, that a snap should count for a fire, when one is nothing more than a fire-stone striking a steel pan, and the other is good lead, ay! and with a good aim; so get out of my way, boy, and let me show Billy Kirby how to shoot a Christmas turkey."

"Gib a nigger fair play!" cried the black, who continued resolutely to maintain his post. Ebbery body know that snap as good as fire. Leab it to lady."

"Sartain," said the wood-chopper; "it's the law of the game in this part of the country, Leatherstocking. If you fire agin, you must pay up the other shilling. I b'lieve I'll try luck once more myself; so, Brom, here's my money, and I take the next fire."

"It's likely you know the laws of the woods better than I do, Billy Kirby!" returned Natty. "You come in with the settlers, with an ox-goad in your hand, and I come in with moccasins on my feet, and with a good rifle on my shoulder, so long back as afore the old war. Which is likely to know the best? I say no man need tell me that snapping is as good as firing, when I pull the trigger. I think Miss Elizabeth's thoughts should be taken. I've known the squaws give very good counsel when the Indians have been dumb-founded in their notions. If she says that I ought to lose, I agree to give it up."

“Then I adjudge you to be a loser, for this time," said Miss Temple; "but pay your money, and renew your chance; unless Brom will sell me the bird for a dollar. will give him the

money, and save the life of the poor victim."

This proposition was evidently but little relished by any of the listeners, even the negro feeling unwilling to lose the sport, though he lost his turkey. In the meanwhile, as Billy Kirby was preparing himself for another shot, Natty left the goal with

an extremely dissatisfied manner, muttering to himself and speaking aloud:

"There hasn't been such a thing as a good flint sold at the foot of the lake since the time when the Indian traders used to come into the country; and if a body should go into the flats along the streams in the hills to hunt for such a thing, it's ten to one but they will be all covered up with the plough. Heigho! it seems to me that just as the game grows scarce, and a body wants the best of ammunition, to get a livelihood, everything that's bad falls on him like a judgment. But I'll change the stone, for Billy Kirby hasn't the eye for such a mark, I know."

The wood-chopper seemed now entirely sensible that his reputation in a great measure depended on his care; nor did he neglect any means to insure his success. He drew up his rifle and renewed his aim again and again, still appearing reluctant to fire. No sound was heard from even Brom during these portentous movements, until Kirby discharged his piece, with the same want of success as before. Then, indeed, the shouts of the negro rung through the bushes, and sounded among the trees of the neighboring forest like the outcries of a tribe of Indians. He laughed, rolling his head, first on one side, then on the other, until nature seemed exhausted with mirth. He danced, until his legs were wearied with motion, in the snow; and, in short, he exhibited all that violence of joy that characterizes the mirth of a thoughtless negro.

"Look this a-way, Billy Kirby," said Leatherstocking, "and let them clear the mark, and I'll show you a man who's made better shots afore now, and that when he's been hard pressed by the savages and wild beasts."

Although Natty Bumppo had certainly made hundreds of more momentous shots at his enemies or his game, yet he never exerted himself more to excel. He raised his piece three several times; once to get his range, once to calculate his distance, and once because the bird, alarmed by the deathlike stillness that prevailed, turned its head quickly to examine its foes. But the fourth time he fired.

The smoke, the report, and the momentary shock, prevented most of the spectators from instantly knowing the result; but Elizabeth, when she saw her champion drop the end of his rifle in the snow, and open his mouth in one of its silent laughs, and then proceed very coolly to recharge his piece, knew that he

had been successful. The boys rushed to the mark and lifted the turkey on high, and with nothing but the remnant of a head.

The Pilot was Cooper's next work-his first sea story; and it not only demonstrated the versatility of his genius, but also proved it to be master of a creative and pictorial energy exceeding any evidence yet given. "The ships with whose fortunes we have to do in this story interest us like creatures of flesh and blood. Long Tom Coffin is probably the most widely known sailor character in existence."*

We present a condensed extract from this work, which may well stand as one of its many great battle pieces, with Long Tom Coffin prominently in the foreground.

BATTLE BETWEEN THE ARIEL AND THE ALACRITY.

THE English cutter held her way from the land until she got an offing of more than two miles, when she reduced her sails to a yet smaller number, and, heaving into the wind, she fired a gun in a direction opposite to that which pointed to the Ariel.

"Now, I would wager a quintal of codfish, Master Coffin," said Barnstable, "against the best cask of porter that was ever brewed in England, that fellow believes a Yankee schooner can fly in the wind's eye! If he wishes to speak to us, why don't he give his cutter a little sheet and come down?"

The cockswain (Long Tom Coffin) had made his arrangements for the combat with much more method and philosophy than any other man in the vessel. When the drum beat to quarters, he threw aside his jacket, vest, and shirt, with as little hesitation as if he stood under an American sun, and with all the discretion of a man who had engaged in an undertaking that required the free use of his utmost powers. He was standing at the breech of his long gun, with his brawny arms folded on a breast that had been turned to the color of blood by long exposure, his grizzled locks fluttering in the breeze, and his tall form towering far above the heads of all near him.

"Keep a good full!" cried the commander, in a stern voice, “and let the vessel go through the water. That fellow walks

* Duyckinck's Cyclopædia of American Literature.

well, Long Tom; but we are too much for him on a bowling; though, if he continue to draw ahead in this manner, it will be night before we can get alongside him."

‘Ay, ay, sir,” returned the cockswain; "them cutters carry a press of canvas when they seem to have but little; but it's no hard matter to knock a few cloths out of their bolt-ropes, when she will both drop astarn and to leeward."

"I believe there is good sense in your scheme, this time," said Barnstable; "speak to him, Tom, and let us see if he will answer."

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‘Ay, ay, sir,” cried the cockswain, sinking his body in such a manner as to let his head fall to a level with the cannon that he controlled, when, after divers orders, and sundry movements, to govern the direction of the piece, he applied a match, with a rapid motion, to the priming. An immense body of white smoke rushed from the muzzle of the cannon, followed by a sheet of vivid fire, until, losing its power, it yielded to the wind, and, as it rose from the water, spread like a cloud, and, passing through the masts of the schooner, was driven far to leeward, and soon blended in the mists which were swiftly scudding before the fresh breezes of the ocean.

Barnstable sprang lightly on a gun, and watched the instant when the ball would strike, with keen interest, while Long Tom threw himself aside from the line of the smoke with a similar intention; holding one of his long arms extended towards his namesake, with a finger on the vent, and supporting his frame by placing the hand of the other on the deck, as his eyes glanced through an opposite port-hole, in an attitude that most men might have despaired of imitating with success.

"There go the chips!" cried Barnstable. "Bravo! Master Coffin, you never planted iron in the ribs of an Englishman with more judgment; let him have another piece of it, and if he like the sport, we'll play a game of long bowls with him!"

"Ay, ay, sir," returned the cockswain, who, the instant he witnessed the effect of his shot, had returned to superintend the reloading of his gun; "if he holds on half an hour longer, I'll dub him down to our own size, when we can close, and make an even fight of it."

The drum of the Englishman was now, for the first time, heard, rattling across the water, and echoing the call to quarters, that had already proceeded from the Ariel.