This gives a good picture of a fox hunt in the South in the long ago. Tell what you like best about it. Who is telling the story? Was he young or old? How do you know? What opinion do you form of the "fair de Compton"? See if you can get an old man, perhaps a negro, to tell you of a fox hunt he has seen. SUPPLEMENTARY READING In Ole Virginia--Thomas Nelson Page. Old Creole Days--George W. Cable. Swallow Barn--John P. Kennedy. The Prophet of the Great Smoky Mountains--Charles Egbert Craddock. FOOTNOTE: [177-*] From the _Atlanta Constitution_. RAIN AND WIND I hear the hoofs of horses Galloping over the hill, Galloping on and galloping on, When all the night is shrill With wind and rain that beats the pane-- And my soul with awe is still. For every dripping window Their headlong rush makes bound, Galloping up and galloping by, Then back again and around, Till the gusty roofs ring with their hoofs, And the draughty cellars sound. And then I hear black horsemen Hallooing in the night; Hallooing and hallooing, They ride o'er vale and height, And the branches snap and the shutters clap With the fury of their flight. All night I hear their gallop, And their wild halloo's alarm; The tree-tops sound and vanes go round In forest and on farm; But never a hair of a thing is there-- Only the wind and the storm. MADISON JULIUS CAWEIN. THE SOUTHERN SKY Presently the stars begin to peep out, timidly at first, as if to see whether the elements here below had ceased their strife, and if the scene on earth be such as they, from bright spheres aloft, may shed their sweet influences upon. Sirius, or that blazing world Argus, may be the first watcher to send down a feeble ray; then follow another and another, all smiling meekly; but presently, in the short twilight of the latitude, the bright leaders of the starry host blaze forth in all their glory, and the sky is decked and spangled with superb brilliants. In the twinkling of an eye, and faster than the admiring gazer can tell, the stars seem to leap out from their hiding-places. By invisible hands, and in quick succession, the constellations are hung out; first of all, and with dazzling glory, in the azure depths of space appears the great Southern Cross. That shining symbol lends a holy grandeur to the scene, making it still more impressive. Alone in the night-watch, after the sea-breeze has sunk to rest, I have stood on deck under those beautiful skies, gazing, admiring, rapt. I have seen there, above the horizon at once and shining with a splendor unknown to other latitudes, every star of the [v]first magnitude--save only six--that is contained in the catalogue of the one hundred principal fixed stars.