This passed in the space of a few seconds, and I had hardly time to recover my self-possession, before Matthew and the monster were both getting out of breath. I thought it was now time for me to join in the fight, and, approaching the beast, I laid my cane, with the full weight of both hands, over his head. It was a lucky blow, for he instantly staggered and fell upon the ground. Matthew let go his hold, and there lay the beast prostrate before us! “Better late than never!” said Matthew, puffing like a porpoise. “Better late than never. Whew! I’m as hot as a flap-jack on a griddle,--whew! The unmannerly beast!--whew! So! this is the way of the woods, is it?--whew! You pretend to be a child in distress--whew! and then you expect to make a supper of us!--whew! The infarnal hyppecrite!--whew! “Well, what sort of a beast do you call it?” said I. “Why,” said my friend, “it’s a catamount, or a wild-cat, or a panther--the varmint! It’s just like all other scamps; it’s got a long parcel of names; in one place it goes by one name, and in another place it goes by another. But it’s the most rebellious critter that ever I met with! He came plaguy nigh givin’ your hair a combing.” “That he did,” said I; “and if you hadn’t been here to comb his, I should have had a hard time of it.” “Like as not--like as not,” was the reply. “But, arter all,” said Matthew, looking at the panther, now lying outstretched upon the ground, and bearing all the marks of great agility and power, “arter all, it’s a pity that such a fine fellow hadn’t better manners. It’s one of God’s critters, and I expect that he loved life as well as his betters. He’s a noble brute--though I can’t commend his tricks upon travellers. Poor beast! I’m sorry for you; howsomdever, accidents will happen: it’s all luck and chance; it might have been Bob, or it might have been me. Well, it can’t be helped--what’s done is done.” Matthew having settled the matter in this speech, we left the place, and at a little distance, beneath the partial shelter of a rock, we struck up a fire and made preparations for our repose, for it was already night. [Illustration] PETER PARLEY’S NEW STORIES. No. 1. The Two Seekers. I promised, in my last number, to give my readers some of the genuine stories found among old Parley’s papers. Here is one of them, and I shall follow it with others. R. MERRY. There were once two boys, Philip and Frederick, who were brothers. Philip was a cheerful, pleasant, good-natured fellow; he had always a bright smile on his face, and it made everybody feel an emotion of happiness just to look at him. It was like a strip of sunshine, peeping into a dark room--it made all light and pleasant around.