ere he stood; it seemed to him that if
he staid long within their reach his brain would be affected as Carl's
had been, and that he should wander within and die. For there would be
no one to rescue _him_.

So strong was this new feeling, like a giant full armed, that he started
that very night, carrying his gun and Carl's violin, and a knapsack of
clothes on his back, and leaving his other possessions behind. Their
value was not great, but they made a princely home for the mongrel, who
came over after he had departed, looked around stealthily, stole several
small articles, and hastened away; came back again after a day or two,
and stole a little more; and finally, finding the place deserted,
brought back all his spoil and established himself there permanently,
knowing full well that it would be long before Monteano's would find
another tenant from the North.

As Mark Deal passed across the King's Road Bridge over the Branch (now
soon to be sainted), he paused, and looked down into the north border of
South Devil. Then he laid aside his gun and the violin, went off that
way, and gathered a large bunch of swamp blossoms. Coming into San
Miguel, he passed through the town and out to the little burial-ground
beyond. Here he found the new-made grave, and laid the flowers upon it.

"He will like them because they come from _there_," was his thought.

Then, with a buoyant step, he started up the long, low, white peninsula,
set with its olive-woods in a sapphire sea; and his face was turned
northward.

IN THE COTTON COUNTRY.

The loveliest land that smiles beneath the sky,
The coast-land of our western Italy.
I view the waters quivering; quaff the breeze,
Whose briny raciness keeps an under taste
Of flavorous tropic sweets, perchance swept home
From Cuba's perfumed groves and garden spiceries.

PAUL HAMILTON HAYNE.

Call on thy children of the hill,
Wake swamp and river, coast and rill,
Rouse all thy strength, and all thy skill,
Carolina!
Tell how the patriot's soul was tried,
And what his dauntless breast defied;
How Rutledge ruled and Laurens died,
Carolina!

HENRY TIMROD.

Do you know the cotton country--the country of broad levels open to the
sun, where the ungainly, ragged bushes stand in long rows, bearing the
clothing of a nation on their backs? Not on their backs either, for the