heerful spot,
in consequence of its facing almost in a southerly direction: while,
towards the east, there were several wide and picturesque gaps in the
hills which seemed to have been made for the express purpose of letting
the sun shine the greater part of the day upon the diggers while they
were at work--an advantage, no doubt, when the weather was cool, but
rather the reverse when it was hot.

The entrance to Little Creek was about two miles wide, undulating, and
beautifully diversified, resembling pleasure grounds rather than a
portion of the great wilderness of the far west; but the vale narrowed
abruptly, and, about three miles further into the mountains, became a
mere gap or ravine through which the streamlet leaped and boiled
furiously.

It was an hour before noon when our travellers came suddenly upon the
wide entrance to the valley.

"How beautiful!" exclaimed Ned, as he reined up to gaze in admiration
over the flowering plain, with its groups of noble trees.

"Ay," said Maxton, enthusiastically, "you may well say that. There may
be, perchance, as grand, but I am certain there is not a grander country
in the world than America--the land of the brave and free."

Ned did not assent at once to the latter part of this proposition.

"You forget," he said, hesitatingly, as if disinclined to hurt the
feelings or prejudices of his new friend, "you forget that it is the
land of _slaves_!"

"I confess that I did forget that at the moment," answered Maxton, while
the blood mounted to his forehead. "It is the foulest blot upon my
country's honour; but I at least am guiltless of upholding the accursed
institution, as, also, are thousands of my countrymen. I feel assured,
however, that the time is coming when that blot shall be wiped away."

"I am glad, my friend," said Ned, heartily, "to hear you speak thus; to
be frank with you, I could not have prevailed upon myself to have held
out to you the hand of intimate friendship had you proved to be a
defender of slavery."

"Then you'll form few friendships in this country," said Tom Collins,
"for many of the Yankees here have been slave-holders in their day, and
almost all defend the custom."

The conversation was interrupted at this point by Larry O'Neil uttering
a peculiarly Hibernian exclamation, (which no combination of letters
will convey,) and pointing in an excited manner to an object a few
hundred yards in advance of them.

"What d'ye see, lad!" inquir