XVI.

THE SHOOTING-MATCH.

SHOOTING-MATCHES are probably nearly coeval with the colonization of Georgia. They are still common throughout the Southern States; though they are not as common as they were twenty-five or thirty years ago. I was travelling in one of the north-eastern counties, when I overtook a swarthy, bright-eyed, smirky little fellow, riding a small pony, and bearing on his shoulder a long, heavy rifle, which, judging from its looks, I should say had done service in Morgan's corps.

"Good morning, Sir," said I, reining up my horse, as I came beside him.

"How goes it, stranger?" said he, with a tone

of independence and self-confidence that awakened my curiosity to know a little of his character.

"Going driving ?" inquired I.

"Not exactly," replied he, surveying my horse with a quizzical smile, "I haven't been a-driving by myself for a year or two, and my nose has got so bad lately I can't carry a cold-trail without hounds to help me."

Alone, and without hounds as he was, the question was rather a silly one; but it answered the purpose for which it was put, which was only to draw him into conversation, and I proceeded to make as decent a retreat as I could.

"I didn't know," I said, "but that you were going to meet the huntsmen, or going to your stand."

"Ah, sure enough," rejoined he, "that mout be a bee, as the old woman said when she killed a wasp. It seems to me I ought to know you." "Well, if you ought why don't you?"

"What mout your name be?"

"It might be anything," said I, with borrowed wit; for I knew my man, and knew what kind of conversation would please him most.

"Well, what is it then ?"

"It is Hall," said I; "but, you know, it might as well have been anything else."

"Pretty digging,” said he, “I find you're not the fool I took you to be; so here's to a better acquaintance with you."

"With all my heart," returned I; "but you must be as elever as I've been, and give me your name."

"To be sure I will, my old 'coon; take it, take it, and welcome. Anything else about me you'd like to have ?"

"No," said I, "there's nothing else about you worth having."

"Oh yes, there is, stranger. Do you see this ?" holding up his ponderous rifle with an ease that astonished me. "If you will go with me to the shooting-match, and see me knock out the bull'seye with her a few times, you'll agree the old soapstick's worth something when Billy Curlew puts his shoulder to her."

This short sentence was replete with information to me it taught me that my companion was Billy Curlew; that he was going to a shooting-match; that he called his rifle the soap-stick; and that he was very confident of winning beef with her; or,

which is nearly, but not quite the same thingdriving the cross with her.

"Well," said I, "if the shooting-match is not too far out of my way, I'll go to it with pleasure."

"Unless your way lies through the woods from here," said Billy, "it'll not be much out of your way; for it's only a mile a-head of us, and there's no other road for you to take till you get there; and as that thing you're riding in, ain't well suited to fast travelling among bushy knobs, I reckon you won't lose much by going by. I reckon you hardly ever was at a shooting-match, stranger, from the cut of your coat ?"

"Oh yes," returned I, "many a time. I won beef at one, when I was hardly old enough to hold a shot-gun off-hand."

"Children don't go to shooting-matches about here,” said he, with a smile of incredulity. “I never heard of but one that did, and he was a little swinge-cat. He was born a-shooting, and killed squirrels before he was weaned."

"Nor did I ever hear of but one," replied I, "and that one was myself."

"And where did you win beef so young, stranger?"

"At Berry Adam's."

"Why stop, stranger, let me look at you. Good. Is your name Lyman Hall?”

"The very same," said I.

"Well, dang my buttons, if you ain't the very boy my daddy used to tell me about! I was too young to recollect you myself; but I've heard daddy talk about you many a-time. I believe mammy's got a neck-handkerchief now that daddy won on your shooting at Collen Reid's store, when you were hardly knee-high. Come along, Lyman, and I'll go my death upon you at the shooting-match, with the old soap-stick at your shoulder.”

Ah, Billy," said I, "the old soap-stick will do much better at your own shoulder. It was my mother's notion that sent me to the shooting-match at Berry Adam's; and, to tell you the honest truth, it was altogether a chance shot that made me win beef; but that wasn't generally known, and most everybody believed that I was carried there on account of my skill in shooting; and my fame was spread far and wide, I well remember.

"I remember, too, perfectly well your father's bet on me at the store. He was at the shootingmatch, and nothing could make him believe but that I was a great shot with a rifle, as well as a