Myers halted. Standing at the end of an elongated bunch of pines where he had been invisible until the heads of the horses appeared stood the highwayman, with menacing gun covering the head of the driver. "Throw out your treasure and mail!" came the command. "I have mail, but no treasure," said my friend Tom, as he afterward pointed out the spot and told the story. "Come and get it." The lone robber rifled the sacks, turned the pockets of the travelers inside out, and bade them drive on without imitating Lot's wife; he was never caught. To be sure, this is a tame story, and many readers doubtless can tell one more thrilling; but this one is true. The stagecoach is a thing of the past, but we still have the hardy, dust-covered, mud-daubed teamster, who yet must haul the freight far back into hills where for ages there will be no railway. To these, Godspeed and good cheer! They live by the Trails; they eat at the wheel; they sleep under the wagon; they are kindly and obliging even when their heavily belled teams of six to fourteen or more head of horses meet another loaded caravan in some narrow pass where the highest engineering ability is needed to get by in safety; and they never leave a fellow-traveler in distress. AMONG THE HILLS To him who in the love of Nature, holds Communion with her visible forms, she speaks A various language;... The hills Rock-ribbed, and ancient as the sun. --_Bryant_. Not vainly did the early Persian make His altar the high places and the peak Of earth-o'ergazing mountains, and thus take A fit and unwalled temple, there to seek The Spirit, in whose honor shrines are weak, Upreared of human hands.... compare Columns and idol-dwellings, Goth or Greek With Nature's realm of worship. --_Byron_. THE MOTHER DEER