To the side-clearing sped she; naught was there But solitude and moonlight. As she told Her tale I shuddered. In my ear again Rang the fierce shriek I heard as sunset glowed, And my flesh crept with horror. Up we trod Our mountain snow-path speedily. At length, To where the narrow opening in the woods Led from the road, we came. 'T was at this spot I stood, and watched the form and flashing axe Of him, the lost. We passed within. The moon Threw on the little clearing a full flood Of radiance. There the crusted wood-pile stood; There was the walnut with a ghastly notch Deep in its heart. A ledge of rock rose up Beside the wounded tree, and at its base A space of blackest hue proclaimed a chasm. No life was stirring on the brilliant waste; The trees rose like a wall on every side But where the ledge frowned darkly. As I checked My footsteps at the half-hewn walnut, drops Thick sprinkled round--the snow stamped down--an axe Lying upon the high wreathed roots, my gaze, As with a charm, arrested. From this spot Large prints and a broad furrow stretched along To the black chasm within the rocky ledge. We clustered round the mouth. A low, deep growl Came from the depths. Two orbs of flashing fire Glared in the darkness. Brace, the hunter, aimed His rifle just between the flaming spots, And fired. Fierce growls and gnashings loud of teeth Blent with the echoes, and then all was still. The spots were seen no more. A few had brought Splinters of pine for torches, and the flint Supplied the flame. With one hand grasping tight A hatchet keen, the other a bright torch, The dauntless hunter ventured, with slow steps, Within the cavern. Soon a shout we heard, And Brace appeared, with all his giant strength Dragging a lifeless panther. In again He passed, and then brought out a human form, Mangled and crushed. A shriek pealed wild and high, And, swooning, sank the wife upon the snow, Beside the dead. With silent, deep-felt awe We bore both to the hut. A sudden cloud Rose frowning from the north, and deep and fierce Howled the loosed tempest. From her death-like swoon, Roused by our care, the hapless wife poured out Her cries and wailings. Through the livelong night We heard her moans and screams and ravings wild, Blending with all those stern and awful tones That the scourged forest yields. But morning dawned, And brought the widowed and the broken heart The peace of death. Beside the lonely hut, Two graves were opened in the frozen snow, And silence then fell deeply on the spot. No more the smoke curled up. No more the axe Rang in the mountain; and a few short years Leveled the cabin with the forest-earth, Midst spreading bushes, fern and waving grass. INNOCENCE.