"Oh, Hickey! Whoop!" exclaimed Martha, as she went off in wild screams of laughter. "Kin you swim?" she asked, with the coolness of the mountain-maiden she was. "No, no," sputtered the Doctor. "I reckon you'll tow good. Jest gimme your han', an' keep your feet down, an' me an' Alec 'ill tow you ashore to dreen. Hit's like you're purty wet." He was soon landed by the stalwart Martha and Alec, and, while he attitudinized for draining, the Professor amused himself with taking an instantaneous photograph. "By gum! he mought hev drownded," said Tim Price to the Professor. "The Doctor hain't a good shape fer towin', but he floats higher than any craft of his length I ever seed on Elk River." Just as the golden light of evening cast its sheen upon the river the camp-tents came in sight, where a group of natives stood waiting the arrival of the fishers to "hear what luck they'd hed." Colonel Bangem and Bess carried off equal honors in greatest count,--sixty-two bass and five salmon each. Martha, with her five-pounder, was weight champion. Mrs. Bangem had the only blue pike. The Professor claimed that, besides his twoscore fish, he had illustrations enough for a comic annual; and the Doctor asserted that he knew more about bass than any of them, for he had been down where they lived, and was of the opinion that he had swallowed a couple. Bess Bangem said to the Professor, as they went up the bank together, "I had a great mind to count you in with my fish, to beat father; but I caught you long ago, so it would not have been fair." TOBE HODGE. ON A NOBLE CHARACTER MARRED BY LITTLENESS. As Moscow's splendors trench on narrow lanes, The wonder, brimming every traveller's eyes, To disappointment's sudden darkness wanes At finding meanness near such grandeur lies. O human city! built on Moscow's plan, Thy great and little touch each other so, Let me forbear, and, as an erring man, Make my approaches wisely, from below, Hasting through all the narrow and the base Before I stand where all is high and vast: After the dark, let glory light my face, Thy shining greatness break upon me _last_. CHARLOTTE FISKE BATES. THE SCOTTISH CROFTERS. It is hard to dispel the halo which poetry and romance have thrown about the Scottish Highlander and see him simply as he appears in every-day life. And indeed, all fiction aside, there is in his history and character much that is most admirable and noble. On many a terrible battle-field his courage has been unsurpassed. His brave and tireless struggle for existence where both climate and soil are unfriendly is equally worthy of respect. Then, too, his sterling honesty and independence in speech and action and his high moral and religious qualities combine to make him a valuable citizen.