So much for the general appearance. Now let us enter some of these groups, and see if we cannot make ourselves familiarly acquainted with at least one of the actors. A tree is blazed,—a small black spot, made with moistened powder, is seen in its centre, and at a distance of about fifty yards, a crowd, composed chiefly of hunters, with now and then a woman or a child, have already collected. The candidates for the sheriffalty are also among the number. “What shall we shoot for?” asked a hunter, as stepping out he toed the mark. “Why, a quart to be sure,” was the reply. Then throwing up his piece, crack went his rifle, and the crowd running to the target, cried, “not so coarse,—he grazed the black.” “Coarse as rough bricks,” said a hunter, “he'll pay for the quart.” “Clear away for the candidates!” was now the cry. “Bob, step forward, and show your metal.” Bob did as desired, and blazed away. The crowd again ran forward, and cried, “hurrah! for Bob Black,—he is into the black, but upon the outer edge.” “That's not so bad,” said Bob. “Bad as green gourds,” said our old friend Earth, “if it was a varmunt, and you could only see his eye.—Clear the track, I'm coming, with my head and tail both up.” Then stepping forward, he took his position:—a moment more, and crack went his rifle. The crowd again ran forward, and cried,—“into the centre. Hurrah for Earth,—he's a caution, I tell you.” “I knowed it,” said Earth, “she never lies if I point her straight;” then turning to his opponent, Bob Black, “don't you think you would make a beautiful sheriff,—can't shoot nearer than the outside of a black. Bob, I'd change my name if I couldn't always stick by it.” At this moment, some one cried out, “'Squire Rolfe is going to speak in the Court-House,” and away they hastened, to hear his maiden speech. The Court-House, as before stated, was merely an unfloored log building. Upon a plank, a little elevated, and placed against the side fronting the door, the magistrates were sitting; and just before them, seated on a bench, were ranged the lawyers. Rolfe was to make his maiden speech. He had been employed by a man who was very badly beaten, to bring an action of assault and battery, with a hope of recovering damages enough to compensate him in some measure, for the injury inflicted.—This was the case now to be tried. The jury having been sworn, the witnesses examined, and all the other formalities gone through, Rolfe rose. “Now tear away,” said Earth, who was at his elbow, “as if you didn't care for nobody.”