into the street to hear the report.

The enemy were

The girl clung

slowly advancing towards Dead-Creek, where our pickets were placed; he dashed on to camp with his intelligence, while Mr. S-, attended by two men, went down the river bank where the boat was moored. Mrs. Stanley and her little Polly seated themselves on the piazza to watch the departure of the boat, and as the sound of the receding oars died on her ear, she felt as if her last hope had expired. Who can paint the desolation of those lonely ones! to Mrs. Stanley for protection with as much confidence as a babe to its mother, and as she, (Mrs. S.) became aware of this, the more sensible was she of her weighty responsibilities. The inhabitants had nearly all left the village; the streets were deserted; except some solitary refugee who had been belated in leaving the place, not a citizen remained, not a female except the two desolate beings who were now marking the signs of the times in the gloomy twilight. The sentinels who were stationed for the night were seen pacing backward and forward, their bayonets glittering in the moonlight. Across the river could be seen much of the bustle of preparation, and two or three times Mrs. Stanley thought she saw movements like tearing up the bridge. The Saranac runs in a northerly direction, and as it passes through to the lake, turns to the east, and the village is built on both sides of it, being connected by a bridge. The house of Dr. Stanley was on the north bank, and the camp on the south. There were two bridges, an upper, and a lower, which latter, though not opposite, was in full view of his house. Should they tear up both, how could her husband cross the river? Here was a new

source of alarm. She listened to the strokes of the hammer, and the fall of timber; strained her aching eye-balls in the fitful moonlight to ascertain the nature of the operations going on; all was anxiety and suspense. The house clock had struck ten, and every stroke had fallen like the cold hand of death upon the heart of the agitated sufferer. She heard the sound of a horse-she started from her seat-it advanced -it was he-she strained her eyes and ears-it still advanced, and rapidly-it was he-the husband, whom a few minutes before she had thought never to see again. She flew to the gate-he approachedand turned up the other street-it was not he!

CHAPTER V.

SLOWLY and heavily Mrs. Stanley ascended the steps, and seated herself by the parlour window. Her thoughts were upon her husband and her babes, from whom she was, perhaps, separated for ever. Hope still lingered around her heart; she felt that she had done her duty, and prayed that she might be supported. Again the moon became obscured, and again the pale flashes of lightning, followed by low muttering thunder, foretold another storm-and, where was he, the wanderer? She well knew his anxiety for her safety would have prompted him to return with all possible speed-what could have happened? This was a question she continually asked herself. The clock told eleven. "Oh! merciful God

protect him;" burst from her agitated lips, and all her apprehensions as to the coming battle were lost in the fearful thought, that she might at this moment be a widow, and her children fatherless. She paced the room in agony. The servant girl had, by the request of Mrs. Stanley, prepared herself a temporary couch, (for bed or scfa none remained in the house,) and exhausted by fatigue had fallen asleep. "Sleep on, poor child," said Mrs. Stanley to the unconscious girl, "this transient slumber may compose your nerves to meet our coming fate-poor thing! You little know the trials which, perhaps, ere long await you; sleep while you can!" Again the sound of a horse trotting briskly along the bank assailed her ears; she flew to the door, and in the dim distance, the moon half obscured by clouds, saw a man riding towards the house. "Oh! there he is! that must be he! no! he has turned up the other street. Father in heaven support me!" burst from the almost despairing wife. As she turned to go into the house, she saw the figure of a man entering the large gate which led to the back door and stable; she hastened in, and arousing Polly from her brief sleep, they proceeded to the kitchen; it was now near midnight. The nerves of Mrs. Stanley had been so long strained by this intense anxiety, that the sight of any human being she thought would be welcome. The loud knock was answered by her, with a firm and calm, "who is there?" "A friend!" was the response-"I am wet and weary, and want a drink of milk." Mrs. Stanley unhesitatingly opened the door, and a man advanced into the middle of the room;-a half supressed shriek burst from her lips involuntarily, while Polly

unconsciously clung to her mistress. This man was the only one who in that hour of loneliness and desolation would not have been welcome; a reputed murderer, and had twice within the last year been tried for his life. About three months since he was acquitted on the second charge. Although acquitted for the want of positive evidence, most people thought him guilty, and so general was the opinion, that he was shunned by the children in the streets with as much horror, as a traveller would shun the poisonous blast laden with death from the dreaded "Bohun Upas." In a moment the lady gained her self-possession, motioned him to a seat, and directed the girl to fill his pitcher with milk. After the first shock, even the presence of this man was a relief. He remarked that he had been all day engaged in removing his family and effects, he came in half an hour before, hungry, wet and weary; finding nothing in his own larder, and seeing a light at the house of Dr. Stanley, he had ventured to tax her hospitality for a drink of milk. Mrs. Stanley ordered the remains of their almost untasted dinner to be placed before her singular guest, who made up by the compliment he paid it for the neglect which the good cheer had met with at dinner-time. A snug little fire with its cheerful blaze seemed to invite him to dry his dripping garments; he quietly drew his chair to the hearth, and making himself at home, began to discuss the events of the day, asserted there could be but one opinion as to the issue of the battle, which must end in the defeat of the Americans, and assured the lady, that a large body of Indians would be let loose upon the inhabitants, who would burn and destroy all before

them, spreading desolation throughout that whole region of country.

Mrs. Stanley did not suffer herself to be discomposed by his representations, but he succeeded in alarming the poor girl, who now, for the first time, trembled in every limb. A tremendous clap of thunder reminded the man that he was not at home; hastily rising, he thanked Mrs. Stanley for her hospitality and took his leave. The storm came rapidly on. Clasping her hands in anguish, Mrs. Stanley exclaimed, "Oh, where can he be now? This wild wind seems as if it would uproot the forest-should he now be crossing the plain, his life is in constant peril from some falling tree-at all events his exposure in such a storm as this will prove his death.” She then opened a small trunk which contained changes of apparel for the family, and selected a complete suit for Dr. Stanley, and every preparation was made for his comfort, should he ever return; this done, she hurried again to the street door to watch the coming of her husband. The clock had long since told one! No sound was in the silent street except the noise of the express; whose hoarse voice every half hour, broke upon the stillness of the night. The scene across the bridge was one of thrilling interest. Lights moving in every direction-the bright flashing of the sentinels' arms as they paced back and forth, on their night-watch-the hurried bustling air of those at work on, and near the bridge-the lights in the cantonment, where all seemed confusion, and the hum of voices coming at intervals across the water amid the howling of the blast, rendered the scene still more exciting. The dark clouds were now collecting in one dense