your half-sister will not miss what she never asked, after a short silence, as Mr. Crofton possessed." rose to take his leave. "Who has the charge of Dinah Blake? Is there any danger of her talking about this painful affair to any one who might circulate the story?" "Not the least!" was the prompt answer of Mr. Crofton. "Last night when she was too ill to leave my house I committed her to the care of my sister, a sensible, elderly woman who manages my domestic affairs. She will take care that no person has access to her, but herself. " "But the secret will be known to her also," was Eva's hasty observation, with a troubled look. "That is unavoidable, but there is no cause for alarm on that account, she can be induced to keep it," said Mr. Crofton, with a significant smile. "I understand her silence must be bought?" said Eva, with some of her usual hauteur. Exactly so!" was the cool rejoinder, "my sister is poor and dependent on me, and would not care to lend herself to an act of villainy without a consideration." "An act of villainy!" How the words, revealing the naked truth, grated in the girl's The deep flush of shame crimsoned her brow, and an angry light flashed from her eyes, but she said not a word. She was completely in the power of this man and his sister, and pride forbade her to free herself from the bondage they were about to impose upon her. Anything was preferable to having the finger of scorn pointed at herto seeing herself dragged down from the high position she had hitherto occupied and humbled in the dust. Any suffering-any unprincipled act—almost any crime before that! Eva Barrington inherited much of her despised grandmother's strength of character. She had also her proud, passionate determined nature. "I am sure of it. She has had a low nervous fever, and is reduced to a very weak state. You have nothing more to fear from her." "She has done me all the injury she could in revealing the shameful secret," said Eva, bitterly; "I wish to Heaven she had died first!" she added, with fierce vehemence. "Remember that it is only known to those who will keep it," remarked Mr. Crofton sympathetically. "But can I rely on their silence?" was her gloomy rejoinder. "Undoubtedly! As long as you make it their interest to keep the secret," he answered, emphatically. "I understand," she said, quietly, but with an angry, disdainful smile. By And thus the interview terminated. degrees Eva recovered something of her former cheerfulness, as the dreaded evil was for the present swept from her path. She waited daily in expectation of the death of Dinah, but the old woman still lingered. Mr. Crofton said, “If she were only out of the way, Eva would feel less anxiety, for she feared that she could not be bribed to silence, like the mercenary agent and his sister. She had told her grand-daughter in that interview in the ruins, that she wanted none of her money; that she only wished to do justice to the girl she had wronged. Unless Dinah Blake died, therefore, the exposé Eva would have done anything to avoid, might still be made, and the threatened storm burst upon her devoted head. It was a fearful trial for the proud girl to bear alone-this secret agony of dread-and to have to maintain an outward composure, so as not to excite remarks. Her life was blighted; never again could she be the gay, light-hearted being she had once been. In her anguish she often wished for death, for when happiness is withdrawn from our life, "Is the woman really near death?" she it does not seem worth possessing. Life, What were the voices the still lakes heard? What were the scenes that the forest saw? The rapid chatter of chipmunk small, Springing ever amongst the leaves; The blue-winged jay with its constant call; And creaking of boughs as they felt the breeze; Woodpeckers tapping with iron beak Dead pine trunks, for the worm they seek. The human cry of the mocking loon Ever rose from the lake's dark wave; Wolf, and fox, and muskrat grey, The forest deer, with russet hide, Hart, and hind, and tender fawn, And the tawny lynx, in the tall, rank grass, The green snake slipt through the moss-bound fern, The black snake reared his fearless head, As the wild cat crept to the quiet burn, Or the dark, brown bear with his heavy tread ; Whilst on some steep rock's savage crest The eagle made her cruel nest. The speckled trout, and the white-fish leapt, Where bull-frogs croak, and the wild ducks fly; The monster sturgeon quiet slept Beneath the glow of a mirrored sky; And the ceaseless hum of mosquitos' wings TORONTO. Now, sound of axes fills the wood, The blue smoke curls above the leaves, And stately halls and temples stand And homes are raised, and cities filled; And nature's myriad voice is stilled: MY FIRST CARIBOO. BY HUBERT HUMBER. L The These words were spoken to me by my Indian hunter, Michel, as I sat looking very ruefully at the carcass of a huge bull moose which lay before me half buried in the snow; and when Michel added, "no get cariboo easy like dat," I resolved that my last shot had been fired at moose, and that the next season-it was too late that yearI would try my hand at cariboo : so a few days after, when parting with Michel at the village, I made a compact with him that when the time came we should hunt cariboo together. OOKING northward from Quebec one! sees a range of low mountains extending all along the north shore of the St. Lawrence away to Anticosti, and behind this range of hills for hundreds of miles lies a wild land of mountain, lake and river-the home of the moose and cariboo deer. cariboo, unlike the moose, is a great runner, seldom staying long in one place; and, being very wary, and of prodigious powers of endurance, even after receiving a mortal wound, its pursuit is justly considered the most exciting of all our Canadian sports. When the cold of early winter has driven The summer had come and passed; the the deer from their far northern haunts into fall snipe shooting was over; the long arrowthe mountains in the immediate vicinity of shaped flocks of wild geese had passed with Quebec, there are always to be found those noisy flight to the southward, and the long who are willing to encounter the privations Canadian winter was setting in with great seand dangers of that inhospitable region for verity when I sent word to Michel to come the chance of a successful stalk after such in and see me. We met, and the result was noble game. an engagement to start on the 15th of De"Cariboo not like moose, no for sure." cember, and a specific estimate of our wants in the shape of powder, shot, biscuits, pork, small purchases made by eleven o'clock and &c. As the weather continued very favourable, that is to say, intensely cold with not too much snow, I went early to bed on the fourteenth fully assured that the next morning would bring Michel. The thickly frosted windows told me, when I awoke, that the thermometer was very low even in my room, and it required some consideration before I could take a leap into my bath, the water in which was almost ice. How comfortable the coal-fire looks when I get down stairs and I am all right, when my old housekeeper, looking severely over her spectacles, says, "your savage has been down stairs speerin' aboot this hour." "All right, send him up, Mrs. Bruce." A light, almost noiseless, step comes along the passage and Michel glides quietly into the room—a man about forty years of age, of middle height, broad shoulders and deep chest, with rather bow legs, clad in a dark blanket coat, his thick waist girt by a crimson sash from which hangs a heavy hilted hunting knife in a sheath of deer skin, gaily worked with beads and porcupine quills. His feet and hands are small, and his swarthy face has the haggard look which I have noticed in many of these men, the result, I fancy, of the great privations and hardships which they sometimes have to endure. His keen eyes are small and black, and over the collar of his coat, a plentiful supply of jet black hair falls down, coarse as a horse's mane. In manner, the man is quiet, easy and self-possessed. While we are at breakfast, Michel quietly unfolds his budget of news. The chances for a successful chasse are good-his brotherin-law, Antoine, has been out looking after some traps and shooting grouse and hares for the market, and reports many cariboo tracks the lakes and rivers were all frozen two weeks ago the snow is not too deep and the cold is on the increase-Antoine would have finished marketing and all his then we would start- we should reach Madame Lachance's at about 3 o'clock, sleep there that night and take to the forest on our snow-shoes early the next morning-a long day's march, a night in the snow, and then another tramp for half a day would bring us to the grounds we intended to hunt. A morning pipe is scarcely smoked when An│toine drives up to the door; the dark coat of his famous mare is covered with frost ; and as he flings a buffalo robe over her, she puts back her ears and paws the snow impatiently eager to get home. How unlike the two men are: Antoine, a little dark French Canadian, has all the vivacity and small talk of his race, and when I succeed in getting him to sit by the fire and take a cup of hot coffee and a bit of steak, dear me, how he does talk and how he laughs; what a contrast to the quiet sombre man who is going about my room superintending the final preparations for our departure! The men are very courteous to each other; but I notice that Antoine always defers at once to Michel. At last all is ready and Antoine having stowed away the provisions in his comfortable box sleigh, the guns, snow-shoes and Indian sleighs are also packed, and then we all jump in. We descend the narrow steep hills leading out from the old town, and are soon on the Lorette road then we begin to know how cold it really is-the wind cuts like a knife, and our frozen breath curls up into the air like smoke and covers our coat collars, caps and hair with a white frost. Now we have crossed the valley of the St. Charles and passed through the village of Lorette. The road becomes much narrower and the fir trees growing thick and close on each side give a welcome shelter from the wind. Passing over a succession of steep hills we dive down into the primeval forest along a very narrow road on which the snow lies soft and deep. The bush on each side is very thick, and I notice the |