for the grave. I was then
a child of ten years, but even at that early age I had not that morbid
terror of looking upon death, so common among children. With my own
hands, I folded back the napkin which covered his face, and gazed upon
his aged, but now serene countenance. There was nothing in his
appearance to inspire terror, and for a moment I placed my hand on his
cold brow. He had ever been very kind to me, and I regarded him with
much affection, and the tears coursed freely down my cheeks when I
looked my last upon his familiar countenance now lifeless and sealed in
death. I have forgotten his exact age, but I know it exceeded seventy
years. It so happened that I did not attend his funeral; but he was
followed to the grave by a large number of friends and neighbours, many
of whom still live to cherish his memory.

[1]STORY OF A LOG CABIN.

It was a dreary day in autumn. Like the fate which attends us all, the
foliage had assumed the paleness of death; and the winds, cold and damp,
were sighing among the branches of the trees, and causing every other
feeling rather than that of comfort. Four others and myself had been out
hunting during the day, and we returned at nightfall tired and hungry to
our camp. The shades of night were fast gathering around us; but being
protected by our camp with a blazing fire in front, we soon succeeded in
cooking some of the game we had shot during the day; and as we ate, the
old hunters who were my companions grew garrulous, and in turn related
their numerous adventures. "You have lived in Dayton for some time,"
said an old hunter, addressing one of his companions. "Have you ever
seen during your rambles the remains of a log cabin about two miles down
the Miami Canal? I recollect it well, but there is a mystery attached to
those ruins which no one living can solve. The oldest settlers found
that cabin there; and it _then_ appeared in such a dilapidated state as
to justify the belief that it had been built many years previous." "Do
you know anything about it?" I eagerly asked. "I know all about it,"
replied the old hunter; "for I assisted in building it, and occupied it
for several years, during the trapping season. That cabin," he
continued, as a shade passed over his features, "has been the scene of
carnage and bloodshed. But why wake up old feelings--let them sleep, let
them sleep;" and the veteran drew his brawny hand over his eyes. All the
curiosity of my nature was rouse