TOM OWEN, THE BEE-HUNTER. dl 
began to desert him on the first symptoms of danger ; 
and when the trouble thickened, they, one and all, took 
to their heels, and left only our hero and Sambo to 
fight the adversaries. Sambo, however, soon dropped 
his axe, and fell into all kinds of contortions; first he 
would seize the back of his neck with his hands, then his 
legs, and yell with pain. ‘Never holler till you get 
out of the woods,” said the sublime Tom, consolingly ; 
but writhe the negro did, until he broke, and left Tom 
‘alone in his glory.” 
Cut,—thwack ! sounded through the confused hum 
at the foot of the tree, marvellously reminding me of the 
interruptions that occasionally broke in upon the other- 
wise monotonous hours of my schoolboy days. 
A sharp cracking finally told me the chopping was 
done, and, looking aloft, I saw the mighty tree balan- 
cing in the air. Slowly, and majestically, it bowed for 
the first time towards its mother earth,—gaining velo- 
city as it descended, it shivered the trees that interrupt- 
ed its downward course, and falling with thundering 
sound, splintered its mighty limbs, and buried them 
deeply in the ground. 
The sun, for the first time in at least two centuries, 
broke uninterruptedly through the chasm made in the 
forest, and shone with splendor upon the magnificent 
Tom, standing a conqueror among his spoils. 
As might be expected, the bees were very much 
astonished and confused, and by their united voices pro- 
