abroad, and he began to look about him for the most favourable line of retreat. But before he could make up his mind, for he feared that his pursuers were close and round about him, the dogs killed the game in his sight, not above a hundred yards from the place of his concealment. The Major immediately alighted, and throwing his horse's rein over the branch of a tree close by, advanced towards the dead kangaroo, while the dogs sat up panting by its side, waiting for the share of the game which it is usual for the sportsman to give them for their encouragement. The Bushranger kept close to his covert, hardly venturing to hope that he should be undiscovered, and resolved to sell his life as dearly as possible. In the mean time, the dogs having been regaled with a slight snack, which on such occasions is moderated so as to whet their appetites without incapacitating them by a full meal for further running, began to hunt about again in circles, and one of them smelling at the thicket in which the Bushranger was concealed, made "a point," and set up a peculiar whine indicative of his having made some unusual discovery. CHAPTER LI. THE BUSHRANGER A PENITENT." THE Bushranger cursed the hound in his heart, and would willingly have strangled him if he could have got him within his reach; but the sagacious dog was too wary to be caught, and presently it began to bark. This excited the other, who began to bark also; and the Major's attention being attracted to the bush, he took a pair of pistols from the holsters of his saddle, and advanced towards it. It was a dangerous moment for the Major, and the Bushranger was aware of his advantage; he might have shot him easily. But from some invincible repugnance to shoot the father of the girl whose recovery was the sole object of his thoughts, he could not bring his mind to resolve to pull the trigger. At the same time another means of escape occurred to him, which he forthwith put in practice. He suddenly left his hiding-place, and the Major, to his extreme astonishment, beheld the Bushiranger standing before him! Before he had time to fire, if he had been so disposed, Mark came forward, and in a firm voice, said: "Major, I surrender myself your prisoner; you are a gentleman and a man of honour, and will not insult a prostrate enemy!" The Major was a brave man, but he could not help being a little flurried for the moment, at the unexpected appearance of the formidable Mark Brandon, who, instead of resisting, as it seemed he might have done, voluntarily surrendered himself!But quickly recovering his presence of mind, he commanded him "To lay down his arms." Major," said Brandon, "you must be aware that it was in my power, as you advanced towards this thicket, to shoot you down without danger to myself; but honestly, I will tell you that my hand refused to commit a murder on the father of the girl whom I now bitterly regret having taken from your protection. Sir-you see before you a sorrowful and repentant man!" The Major was deceived by this address. It certainly had been in the Bushranger's power to take his life, and he had not done it. This argued sincerity. Besides, the sight of the Bushranger and the thought of his daughter troubled him. Brandon stood before him in an attitude of deep humiliation. "What has happened to my daughter, and where is she?" asked the Major in a voice which betrayed the agitation which such questions excited. "She is at hand," replied the Bushranger meekly, and with his eyes cast on the ground. 66 And, villain!" said the Major, as he reluctantly asked the fearful question; "have you respected her?" "As God is my witness, she is as pure as when 66 Say no more, say no more," said the Major; "lead me to her." "You would wish, doubtless, to see her alone?" 66 Certainly, certainly. I have two constables and three soldiers with me; but I have outridden them." "Are they all on foot ?" asked the Bushranger, in an humble tone. "What matters it to you how they are? The constables are mounted as well as myself. But lead me, I say, at once to my daughter. My party will be up presently, and then they can take charge of you.' "As you please, sir; I am weary of this wretched life, and I do not care how soon it is ended!" "We will talk of that by-and-bye. First take me to my daughter; and your present repentance and atonement shall be duly considered in the proper quarter. "I place myself in your hands, sir; if you will now mount, I will take you to your daughter, who is not more than half a mile from hence. Allow me to place your pistols for you in the holsters." A shade of suspicion crossed the Major's mind for the first time, at this exceedingly polite offer, for the talk about his daughter had thrown him off his guard; but before he could bring his thoughts coolly to bear on the extraordinary conduct of the man, the Bushranger had reached his horse, as if with the intention of leading it to the Major. The Bushranger loosened the horse's bridle from the tree, looked back at the Major, and touched his hat respectfully. Then he coolly tightened the horse's girths; and in a moment, gathering up the reins, he sprung into the saddle, and kissing his hand to the Major-who was so astonished at the utter audacity of the stratagem, that he had not presence of mind to discharge his pistols at him-was off like the wind! He was only just in time; for the constables now coming in sight, galloped up, and the Major explaining in half-a-dozen words what had taken place, they struck their spurs into their horses' flanks and started in pursuit. The Bushranger looking back saw the new and dangerous enemies that were behind him, and he, on his side, put his horse to his speed, and the race became hot and strong between the pursued and his pursuers. The Major's horse was a good one; the Bushranger was a capital rider; he had his musket loaded in his hand; plenty of cartridges in his pockets; he knew the trick of bush-riding well -what gullies to shy, what hills to avoid, and how to take advantage of the ground. He pressed on his horse gallantly. He had the start by more than half a mile. The chances were in his favour. He felt confident in his seat; and the excitement of the ride raised his spirits and called up his courage. The constables, too, were well mounted; the Major had taken care of that before he left camp. Their prize was in view; the reward was almost within their grasp; and their minds being undistracted by the thought of the course they should take, their whole energies were bent to follow on, and they did not lose an inch of ground. They, too, felt the excitement of the chase; they had often hunted wild cattle, but they never had hunted a bushranger before! On went the Bushranger; leaping over dead trees; crashing through bushes; and continually bending his body parallel with his horse's back, to avoid the many overhanging branches which interrupted his course; and sometimes, stretching out his right arm, by the strength of his powerful bones and muscles, and aided by the momentum of his speed, wrenching off huge limbs of trees before him. On followed his pursuers, encouraging each other, and trusting that some accident, some trip, some obstacle, would turn the chances in their favour. Our Cabinet of Gems and Curiosities. A SUMMER-WREATH FOR SUMMER-TIDE. "Hinc ille avium concentus in agris, Hinc lætæ pecudes, et ovantes gutture corvi." JUNE, with its ripened charms, and its out-of-doors enchantments, having succeeded the Bella madre di fiori D'erbe novelle, e di novelli amori; We are now fairly launched upon Summer-tide, and may go forth, in the goodly company of our past and present Minstrelbands,-basking in sun-beams-fanned by fragrance-wafting breezes-gazing, far and near, on glorious landscapes-inspired by melodious warblings-lulled by ever-murmuring sounds and realising, if in a frame to do so, the bliss of present, and the antepast of future existence. Let us begin, then, by fancying ourselves on the very spot which Chamberlayne describes― "Where every bough Maintain'd a feather'd chorister to sing "The gentle lark, weary of rest, From his moist cabinet, mount up on high, Who doth the world so gloriously behold, That cedar-tops and hills seem burnish'd gold." Such sights as these, seen by such a divine interpreter of nature, are, again, before us, in these magnificent lines— "Full many a glorious morning have I seen JUNE, 1846. NO. VI. VOL. V. 20 In a lighter, livelier strain, hear the Poet for all ages, exclaim, by the lips of one of his familiar spirits,— "Merrily, merrily, shall I live, now, Under the blossom that hangs on the bough." Or, again, "Under the greenwood tree, Unto the sweet bird's note." For, as our great Dramatist, elsewhere, sings, """Tis now The flowers are sweet, their colours fresh and trim :" And, in all their inexhaustible, and incense-breathing varieties, "Do paint the meadows with delight." From Shakspere, let us pass on to Milton, and enter with him the Summer "bower of bliss" in Paradise, that delightful transcript of some haunt the poet loved on earth: "Thus talking, hand in hand, alone they pass'd Fenc'd up the verdant wall; each beauteous flower, Iris all hues, roses, and jessamine, Rear'd high their flourish'd heads between, and wrought Mosaic. Listen again to the enchanter, as he exchanges the stately measures of his immortal Epic for the quicker-beating pulses of the lyric ode: "When the Sun begins to fling His flaring beams, me, Goddess, bring |