oward's mansion. He came thus far with me to-night,
as it was so late, and the way long and gloomy."

"Ah! he was very kind," remarked the woman. "I began to fear you were
not coming for me, Willie, and thought I should have to remain at Mr.
Pimble's all night, or go home alone. Is the hermit's nephew still with
him?"

"No, he went away this morning, and the poor old man is very lonely and
sad. He said he wished I could be with him all the time."

"Strange being!" said the woman. "Why does he not leave the forest, and
dwell among his fellow-men?"

"I think it is because he experienced some disappointment in his youth,"
answered the lad, "and has come to distrust all his species."

"It may be so," returned the woman. "I have heard of such instances. He
is very kind to you, my boy, and but for his little bundles of sticks, I
think we must have perished during your long illness through that
piercing cold winter. Strange are the realities of life; stranger than
fiction! When the rich Mr. Pimble drove me from his threshold, the poor
hermit of the forest braved the bleak storms, and laid the charitable
piles on my poverty-stricken threshold."

The mother and son had now reached their humble abode.

"Willie," said she, "I wish you would run down by the river and gather
up the few pieces of linen I washed and spread out there yesterday. The
wind is rising fast, and they will blow away before morning."

The boy hastened to perform her request, and in a few moments came
rushing into the house, and exclaimed:

"Mother! mother! Major Howard's house is all on fire! I am going up
there," and, flinging the pieces he held in his arms on the table, he
flew off toward the burning mansion.

Mrs. Danforth followed him to the door and discovered his words were but
too true. Long tongues of flame darted upward to the sky, and ran
fiercely over the walls and terraces of the mansion. The church bell was
pealing madly to rouse the slumbering people to the rescue; but the fire
gained so rapidly in the sweeping wind, all efforts to quench it could
not prove otherwise than futile. To save the lives of the inmates would
be the utmost which could be done, and even this seemed a perilous
undertaking.

Willie Danforth was rushing up the avenue of cedars, when, just as he
was entering the grounds of the burning mansion, he stumbled over some
large object which obstructed the path. It moved beneath, and, by the
glare of the flames, he disco