at day for twenty years his name
was a terror among the Cherokees.

Before many months there was a wedding in the fort at Watauga. It was
that of John Sevier and the "bonnie Kate," famous to this day for
leaping stockades and six-barred fences. He lived to be twelve years
governor of Tennessee and the idol of a whole people. She shared all his
love and all his honors; but in her highest estate she was never ashamed
of her lowly days, and never tired of relating her desperate leap at
Watauga; and, even in her old age, she would merrily add, "I would make
it again--every day in the week--for such a husband."

EDMUND KIRKE.

A PLEASANT SPIRIT.

It was drawing toward nine o'clock, and symptoms of closing for the
night were beginning to manifest themselves in Mr. Pegram's store. The
few among the nightly loungers there who had still a remnant of domestic
conscience left had already risen from boxes and "kags," and gathered up
the pound packages of sugar and coffee which had served as the pretext
for their coming, but which would not, alas! sufficiently account for
the length of their stay. The older stagers still sat composedly in the
seats of honor immediately surrounding the red-hot stove, and a look of
disapproval passed over their faces as Mr. Pegram, opening the door and
thereby letting in a blast of cold air upon their legs, proceeded to put
up the outside shutters.

"In a hurry to-night, ain't you, Pegram?" inquired Mr. Dickey, as the
proprietor returned, brushing flakes of snow from his coat and shivering
expressively.

"Well, not particular," replied Mr. Pegram, with a deliberation which
confirmed his words, "but it's pretty nigh nine, and Sally she ast me
not to be later _than_ nine to-night, for our hired girl's gone
home for a spell, and that makes it kind of lonesome for Sally: the baby
don't count for much, only when he cries, and I'll do him the justice to
say that isn't often."

"It's a new thing for Sally to be scary, ain't it?" queried Mr.
Crumlish, with an expression of mild surprise.

"Well, yes, I may say it is," admitted Mr. Pegram; "but, you know, we
had a kind of a warning, before we moved in, that all wasn't quite as it
should be, and, as bad luck would have it, there was a Boston paper come
round her new coat, with a story in it that laid out to be true, of
noises and appearances, and one thing and another, in a house right
there to Boston, and Sally she says to me, 'If they b