midnight, the wind hauled round to the eastward, and the weather
became so excessively cold, that, although we commenced heaving in the
cable at five A.M., yet we did not get the anchor until nine that night.
Close-reefed topsails were set on the ship and we stood over to the
English coast, and anchored to the westward of Dungeness. During the
whole period of this gale, which lasted four days, Captain G. never for
one moment left the deck; and although well advanced in years, yet his
iron constitution enabled him to overcome the calls of nature for rest;
and, notwithstanding the situation of the ship, was, perhaps more
critical than many of those less fortunate vessels which stranded upon
the rocks, yet his coolness, and the seaman-like manner with which the
ship was handled, no doubt were the means of our being saved.

THE HUNTER'S WIFE.

Thomas Cooper was a fine specimen of the North American trapper.
Slightly but powerfully made, with a hardy, weather-beaten, yet handsome
face; strong, indefatigable, and a crack shot--he was admirably adapted
for a hunter's life. For many years he knew not what it was to have a
home, but lived like the beasts he hunted--wandering from one part of
the country to another, in pursuit of game. All who knew Tom were much
surprised when he came, with a pretty young wife, to settle within three
miles of a planter's farm. Many pitied the poor young creature, who
would have to lead such a solitary life; while others said, "If she was
fool enough to marry him, it was her own look-out." For nearly four
months Tom remained at home, and employed his time in making the old hut
he had fixed on for their residence more comfortable. He cleared and
tilled a small spot of land around it, and Susan began to hope that, for
her sake, he would settle down quietly as a squatter. But these visions
of happiness were soon dispelled, for, as soon as this work was
finished, he recommenced his old erratic mode of life, and was often
absent for weeks together, leaving his wife alone, yet not unprotected,
for, since his marriage, old Nero, a favorite hound, was always left at
home as her guardian. He was a noble dog--a cross between the old
Scottish deerhound and the bloodhound, and would hunt an Indian as well
as a deer or bear, which, Tom said, "was a proof they Injins was a sort
o' warmint, or why should the brute beast take to hunt 'em, nat'ral
like--him that took no notice of white men?"

One clear, col