replying; but after a moment drew from his pocket book a photograph, and
placed it in my hand.

It was of a most attractive looking young lady of, perhaps, twenty-two
years.

"Ah! I see that my suggestion is not needed," I said, holding the
picture at arm's length to get a better general impression. "Is she
yours?"

He flushed a little at so direct a question, as he answered evasively:--

"She is a very true friend of mine."

"But she is more than that. Now, tell me, Gault, when is your honeymoon
to begin?"

"That is more than I can tell," he replied, slowly returning the
photograph to his pocket book.

"You must not wait to get rich," I observed. "It is when a man is
working for success that he most needs the sympathy and help of a good
wife."

"I know that," replied my friend; "but I am in a peculiar position. Some
day I will tell you all."

I saw that he was growing nervous, and changed the subject of
conversation.

Returning from the post office that afternoon to the old farm house, I
stopped for a little chat with Deacon Thompson, my good natured host,
who was mending his orchard fence; for the well loaded boughs of apples,
just beginning to assume their various tinges of red, yellow, or russet,
offered a strong temptation to the cattle in the adjoining pasture.
Incidentally I inquired regarding an old excavation which I had noticed
on the hill near an unfrequented road. This excavation had apparently
once served for a cellar, although most of the stones had been removed,
and the sheep easily ran down its now sloping and grassy sides. In close
proximity was a deep well, over the top of which had been placed a huge,
flat stone. Overshadowing both cellar and well were three ancient elms,
storm-beaten and lightning-cleft, but still standing as if to guard the
very solitude which was unbroken save by the tinkling bell, which told
whither the farmer's flock was straying. From Mr. Thompson I learned the
history connected with this scene.

Twenty years before he was born, his father's folks saw, one morning in
March, a smoke curling above the tops of the elms which were just
visible over the brow of the hill. Quickly going to the scene, they
found the house burned to the ground. The occupants were an old man,
named Peter Colburn, and his wife; and they, together with a traveller,
who had obtained lodging there for the night, were all burned with the
house. The stranger's horse and saddle were found in the