124 HUNTING SPOKTS OF THE WEST. 



HUNTING ON THE OZARK MOUNTAINS. 



IT was Christmas eve, and growing dark, says Mr. 

 Gerstsecker.* My heart sunk as I remembered former 

 joys of this season, and thought of my present loneli- 

 ness. Strange ! that recollections should be so sweet 

 and yet so bitter. 



In good time we arrived at old Conwell's, Slowtrap's 

 father-in-law. He lived in a block-house, surrounded 

 by mountains covered with trees, close to the bank of the 

 White river, which was narrow enough to be bridged by 

 a tree. The family were assembled round the fire; Con- 

 well himself was absent. A matron of pleasing appear- 

 ance rose from her seat on the entrance of her son-in- 

 law, and cordially shook his hand, while two fine boys 

 of eleven and eight jumped up to welcome him ; another 

 person in the room, a young graceful girl, who at first 

 kept modestly in the background, then came forward to 

 greet her brother-in-law, who addressed her as Sophy ; 

 neither was the stranger overlooked, but received a hear- 

 ty welcome from all. I, who, a few minutes before, had 

 felt so deserted and miserable, now experienced a silent 

 joy, as I looked upon the amiable, honorable counte- 

 nance of the mother, the mild expression of the daugh- 

 ter, and the open, happy faces of the two boys. It was 

 as if I had found new relations, and was once again at 

 home. Never in my life had I felt, from the first mo- 

 ment, so completely domesticated as with these people. 



* Wild Sports in the Far West. 



