nature which is forever heard within
all her broad domain. Still the dreamer felt that there was something
direful and most to be dreaded that threatened to invade and mar the
heavenly peacefulness. She felt it coming, and fearfully awaited its
approach. And she had not long to wait. For presently there appeared,
flying between the calm moonlight and the figure, and casting a doleful
shadow over his form, a scaly and dreadful dragon, like those we read of
that devastated whole countries in the old, old times. This hideous
beast breathed fire and smoke from its horrid nostrils as it flew, and
it flapped its fearful way downwards to scorch and destroy the figure
recumbent by the stream.

Just when it was stooping upon its unconscious victim, a heavy scale,
beaten from its side by the bat-like wings, fell upon the night-mare
stricken sleeper's breast, and she awoke.

The moon was shining peacefully into the room, and she found upon the
bed a black cat that had leaped in through the low window. It was a
gentle and loving animal, that had made friends with her upon her first
arrival, and it had already coiled itself up on the bed with a gentle
purring.

Everything was most quiet and calm as she lay gazing out through the
window; still the dreadful memory of her dream weighed upon and
oppressed her. She arose and leaned out into the cool night air. So
leaning, she could see Deacon Fletcher's house, standing bare and brown
in the moonlight only a few rods distant. She could gaze, with what
pleasure or sorrow she might, at the windows of the room where poor
Jason lay tossing with the fever.

She gazes earnestly thitherward, and her breath comes thick and short,
while her heart seems rising into her throat. For she sees, gathered
thick and dun above the house, a dense, undulating and ever-increasing
shadow, that threatens to obscure the low-floating moon! There is no
wind, and it rises slowly but steadily! Deacon Fletcher's house is on
fire!

Her shrill cries, uttered in wild and rapid succession, aroused the
household of Peter Hopkins to the fact that there was fire
somewhere--fire, that most terrible fiend to awake before in the dead of
night. As for Hannah, it was but an instant's work for her to throw on a
little clothing and spring from the low window into the yard. Then she
ran, with what trembling speed she might, towards the burning house.

The smoke still rose sombre and heavy from the roof, and about one of
the