At once with a tremor of delight he suspected the approach of a deer, or possibly a bear, and dropping behind a bush, he levelled his rifle in readiness to fire. The next moment, as his eager eyes intently scanned the raspberry bushes, his sportsman’s feeling of delight suddenly changed to a thrill of horror when a tiny brown, berry-stained hand was quietly raised to pull down a loaded branch of fruit. "Well, of all things!" cried the hunter, as his finger fell from the trigger that had so nearly sent the bullet upon its fatal mission. "What an awful mistake I almost made!" Throwing down his rifle he sprang across the log, to catch in his arms a little girl not more than eight years old, whose torn garments, tangled locks, soiled hands, and thin, pale face, told in a glance the story of many days’ hapless wanderings. Oh, how glad poor Edie was to see him, and how artlessly she told the story of her wonderful adventures! And how thankful to Providence the hunter was that he had chanced to find her ere it was too late! Forgetting all about his hunting, her rescuer now applied himself to the task of getting her home. They were far from the nearest house, and the poor child was so weak from lack of proper food that he had to lift her up on his broad shoulders. But Mr. Barker was as strong as he was kind-hearted, and he pushed resolutely on, guiding himself by his compass, until at last, just as dusk was closing around them, and he began to fear they would have to pass another night in the forest, they came upon a clearing, at the far side of which stood a neat log house. Edie shouted her joy at the sight. It meant that all her perils were over; and the hunter, putting on a big spurt, dashed across the clearing at a run and deposited her on the doorstep, exclaiming in a tone of vast relief,— "There now, my child, that’s the end of your wanderings!" The good people of the house gave them both a warm welcome. Edie received every attention; and the following morning, looking altogether a different girl, with dress mended, hair neatly brushed, hands free from berry-stains, and face radiant at the prospect of returning to her parents, she took her seat in the farmer’s waggon to be driven home. How shall the joy of the Hazens be described when the little daughter they had mourned for as dead came back to them, looking thin and worn, it is true, but otherwise not a whit the worse for her thrilling experience! Mr. Barker watched them with brimming eyes, murmuring, as he fondly patted the stock of his Remington,— "The best day’s work you ever did was when you didn’t go off at all. A lucky chance, indeed!" *MRS. GRUNDY’S GOBBLERS.*