Year: 1877

Mark Walton, almost immediatel
after bis marriage to Ruth Ashby, har
departed, with his young wife, frOn
his pleasant home in one of the NeI
England States, for the wilds of th
West, which. just then, was fast be
coming the land of promise to all ad
venture seekers from every nation. Th
young couple we're accompanied b.
Lucy Walton, Marks sister, who. lik,
the good. true woman she was. had lef
all the old friends and associations, ant
even the luxuries of civilized life. II
share, with her brother, the trials and
perils Of establishing a new home in thc
wilderness.


Nor was sweet Ruth Walton unde
serving of some little praise for the en-
tire trust, love, and faithfulness which
had prompted her to bid adieu to al
the ouce-loved scenes and pleasures
knowing well the trials and even dan
gers which lay before her-for MARI
had concealed nothing when he had
asked her TO become his wife, but had
placed the plain, naked truth before
her, and asked her to judge from it
and accompany her husband almost in.
to the very heart of an uncivilized and
nearly wild country.


A few months previous, Mark had
cleared tract of land in a delightful
valley, through which ran quite large
stream Of water. and erected and fur
nisheG rude but strung ssffiea sfie seesEaAffeEt esEaAffe
able Lighthouse, SO that there was very
little for the happy family TO do, when
they had reached the place Of their des-
tinatioD. after many days Of weary
travel, but to settle down quietly to the
pursuits of the new life which had
opened before them, and the new duties
which had devolved upon them


One day there came messenger in
hot haste, stating that particular
friend of Marks was dying, and had
expressed wish to see him. The dis
tanee to the house Of bis friend was
very considerable, and Mark well knew
that be should be obliged to leave bis
wife and sister alone the greater por-
ton, if not the whole of the night, but
be felt that it was not case for delay,
and at last concluded to GO He could
not feel right to disregard the wishes Of
dying man. and Ruth and Lucy
bravely prevailed on him to come to
this conclusion. They should not be
afraid to stay alone just one night, N
his absence, they said, and, as no seri-
GUS event had ever happened to alarm
them, at last Mark thought it might do
to leave them. Still be could not help
saying a few words of warning to them
before he started


Ruth, you and Lucy had better
keep mostly in the house during my
absence" he said, as be mounted bis
horse before the door, ''And | think
you might as well keep the doors fast
ened, especially after it has begun to
grow dark You will remember. love n


Yes, Mark" returned the young
wife. her cheek growing slightly pale
with the anticipation. "But | hope
you don't think there is any danger to
be apprehended, do your


"Oh, no, returned Mark, striving
to speak as lightly as possible. eff |
did, nothing could prevail on me to
leave you here alone"


What peril could possibly threaten
us? p Ruth still persisted in asking


"In reality. nothingl My great fear
is that you will be very lonely in my
absence If any one should happen to
come while | am gone, | do not think
you had better open the door to him.
Send him away until | return, which
will be at just as early an hour as pos
sible Be sure and remember p


He. bade them both good d-by, and
they stood in the low doorway and
watched his retreating form until it was
lost at last. among the thick trees, and
then entered the house again, to at
tend as usual to their various duties


Late in the evening, while they we're
sitting silently before the FIRE, there
came a quick, hurried knock at the
outer door They started suddenly,
and gazed anxiously into each others
faces, both of which had grown slightly
paler. Ruth was the first to recover
herself sufficiently to leave her seat.
She walked toward the door, aud asked
in a voice which trembled in spite Of
all her efforts:


"Whn is there, and what do you
wish p


1.-Two travellers, who wish to come
in and remain with you tonight" F." ans
wered some one from outside


"We cannot keep you very conven-
iently," Ruth managed, at last, to ar
ticulate ''You must pass on to the
next house p


How far is it?" asked the same
voice, after few moments of hesita-
ton.


Nearly FIVE miles to the west Of
us"


Again there was slight pause, and
the person from without said:


1--WE cannot 60 so far tonight! My
companion has been thrown from his
horse, and might die before we could
reach there You must let US in! You
may have his murder upon your hands
for it could be no less-if you do not
VIII Won omen the door y