It was none too soon, for the second window curtain was in a light blaze, and poor Miss Hepzibah's turban would have stood a good chance of joining the general conflagration.

By this time the lady was wide awake and shouting lustily, "Fire! thieves! murder! robbers! Help, some one! Bring water!" Poll fluttered, helpless and dismayed to the back of her mistress's chair, while Tab came running, half scared to death, to seek protection.

By this time, the servants, with Jones at their head, came rushing pell-mell into the room. There was noise and confusion of tongues, but a few bucketsful of water put out the fire, and the danger was averted, though the nice furniture and carpets were well soaked in the operation. Miss Hepzibah had been thoroughly frightened, but had sustained no personal harm.

When the question of the origin of the fire came up for discussion, and Bertie had told his story of its discovery, of course there was but one theory of accounting for it. As every one had been out of the way except

It was decided that she had purloined a box of matches, and, carrying it to her favorite perch upon the window cornice, had, with very little difficulty, set fire to the curtains. Being ordered off into a solitary confinement, and a bread and water diet, let us hope Poll repented and endeavored to lead a better life.

This accident did Bertie a good turn, for Miss Hepzibah did not hesitate to acknowledge that, but for his timely assistance, she might have been burned more or less badly before help came from any other quarter.

"He is a bright little fellow!" said she, decisively; "and my only brother's son. And though I can never quite forgive him for not being a girl, he shall be brought up as becomes my nephew."

So she engaged a tutor for him, and he had the best educational advantages money could procure, and before long this "horrid boy" grew to be the pride of his aunt's heart; and the surest way to Miss Hepzibah's favor was to pay Master Bertie a handsome compliment. And here we will leave them, Miss Hepzibah and Bertie, Poll and Tab, a very happy quartet.

"WOWH! Wowh! Wowh!" "Hark! isn't that Jip barking down there again?" said Will, as we came out from dinner one day, and were standing for a moment in the shade of the great Balm-o'-Gilead tree. "Wowh! Wowh! Wowh! Wowh!" "What can he have got there? He's been at it now several days, right there in the same spot. I heard him yesterday as much as two hours steady. Sounds as if it were over there by the "Great Rock."

"Wowh! Wow! Wowh!" "Let's go over and see."

So off we went down through the pasture, and entering the woods, crossed the brook and went up the side hill, covered with poplars, toward the "Great Rock."

The great rock is what Professor Zwho was up here last summer, called a "boulder." It stands alone in the midst of the forest; the tall poplars tower above it and hang over it. The professor spent some

time measuring it. He said it was eighteen feet high, and two hundred feet around it at the base, pronouncing it one of the largest "boulders" he had ever seen. Moss and dirt have collected on the top, and a lot of little trees and shrubs are growing in it. But it is split in two or three places, showing great open clefts up and down the sides In one of these the dog was barking furiously and trying to get further in. Hearing the brush crack, Jip looked up from his noisy toil, and seeing us, came racing down to meet us, his red tongue lolling out and excitement in his eye.

"What is it, Jip?" said Will, as he sprang up by his side. "But do look at his nose! All among his whiskers there. What are those, Tom, sticking up so ?"

Sure enough, his nose was full of queerlooking little spines, and swollen, too. "Been running through the brambles, I guess,” said I.

"No, these are not thorns," said Will. "Come here, Jip. Let me pull them out."

But that was easier said than done. They were stuck in hard, and it hurt him dreadfully to tear them out. And some were in so far we couldn't get them out at all. "Why, Jip! what have you been at?" said I.

"Hedgehogs, I guess," said Will. "They live in hedges, and such places as that crack in the Great Rock. We'll see."

Jip was now in the crevice again, excited as ever; but we pulled him out and took a look. It extended in sidewise some ten feet, then turned downward; and just at this point, and barely in sight, were a pair of wicked little black eyes and a piggish nose, covered with what looked like long stiff bristles.

"It's a hedgehog!" cried Will. pole!"

"Get a

I got a long dry pole and thrust it into the crack; but old Hedgy instantly bobbed down his head, and stopped that kind of fun.

"He's got a deep berth there," said Will. "Shouldn't wonder if there was a whole family in there. Can't we smoke 'em out?"

But there was no chance to make a fire in a way to get a draught of wind to carry in the smoke. Smoke wont go down hill unless there's a draught. So we had to give that up too.

"They've got a pretty strong house there, no mistake," said Will, as we went away completely baffled. "But we'll try the trap." And the next morning we set a trap in the seam, chaining it to a stake; and went down again that night to see what we had got. The trap was gone; the stake had been pulled over in such a way that the ring in the end of the chain had slipped over the top of it. Two pairs of eyes were watching us at the bottom of the crevice this time, and we could hear the trap clank down there.

"I declare, they've done us again!" exclaimed Will. "And we shall get a scolding for losing the trap in such a foolish way. But who'd have thought they were so strong! We must have 'em now, though, somehow! Perhaps we can surprise 'em when they're out feeding. Wonder what they live on?"

"Squirrels, I guess," said I. "There's a plenty of them round here."

He brought a

next to father's last summer. large library with him, and farms it "scientifically," they say. So the next day, when I went up to tell him his cattle were all out in the road, I asked him what hedgehogs ate. He took down a large book, and after looking a moment, read "The hedgehog is nocturnal in its habits, and feeds upon insects and reptiles."

"That is," said he, shutting the book, "he comes out in the night and eats flies, frogs and snakes."

I ran home to tell the boys. Old Mr. Crooker was there.

"Eats what!" exclaimed the old man, as I was telling them.

"Flies and snakes," said I.

"Who said so ?" cried he.

"Pooh! That's all Henry knows!" laughed the old fellow. "Sounds just like him. Flies and snakes! I don't believe a hedgehog ever ate a snake in the world. And I shouldn't think the night would be a very good time to catch flies. But I'll tell you what they do eat," continued he. "They love sweet apples dearly. I've got a 'sweet tree' down in my lower lot, and every fall I see them there, and find where they've chanked up the apples. And they come into the cornfield, too. They like corn as well as a 'coon, especially when it's in the milk at roasting time. And they used to come into my wheat sometimes and tangle it down. I once came across one side the road with his mouth full of young raspberry sprouts. But I s'pose it is with a hedgehog as 'tis with a good many other creatures. They aint very particular, and will eat most anything when they get hungry enough. But I don't believe they ever ate a snake, though."

"Wish we could catch one," said Will, after the old man had gone. "We'd keep him and see what he would eat." A few days after, father sent us over to salt the sheep. We had to go right by the Great Rock.

"Let's creep up easy," said Will. "Perhaps they'll be out."

So we kept Jip back, and crept up slow. But all was quiet about the rock; and we were just going away, when Jip ran along to the foot of one of the poplars and began to

Mr. Henry is a sort of gentleman farmer who moved up from the city on to the farm

branches almost to the top, was some sort of a creature; we couldn't see it very plainly for the leaves.

"Looks some like the hedgehog," said Will.

'I didn't know they climbed trees,” said I. "Nor I either," said he. But we'll see. Hunt round and get some stones."

A woodchuck had been digging his hole close by, and had thrown out plenty of small stones. We gathered up these, and began a regular bombardment. It took a good many throws to get the range, and after we began to hit him, he stood fire pretty well. But at last Will took him with a big one. He lost his hold on the limb, and came blundering through the leaves. But the moment he struck the ground he put his head between his fore paws, drew in his hind legs, and so rolled himself all up into a ball like a ball of yarn. It was on the side hill, and he rolled down toward the bottom. Jip sprang after him, in spite of us, and got another prickly mouthful of quills. He didn't want but one taste, though, so we had him to dispose of without his aid after that. The quills stuck out in every direction; he was an ugly chap to touch. Hunters make them unroll by placing them before a fire and so roasting them to it. But we hadn't any fire, so we paid on to him with a club, and finally despatched him. The end of the stick was stuck full of the quills when we had finished with him. But that is all a lie about their throwing their quills! This one didn't, and old Mr. Crooker says they can't; though they do come out pretty easy.

This one was about a foot and a half long, and very puggy and thick. He had a coat of yellowish hair black at the tips, and above this rose the bristles and quills. These also were all tipped with black, which gave him the appearance of being entirely black. Those along the back were the longest and stiffest. Some of them were four inches long, and sharp as needles. They had tiny barbs like wheat-beard. That was the reason we had to pull so when we got them out of Jip's Once let them touch into the flesh and they will keep going deeper and deeper of themselves, till they go clean through anybody. If they strike a bone they will work round it. Old Mr. Crooker told us he once knew an old Indian hunter, they called

nose.

Sabattus, who got some into his back, and in three weeks they came out on his breast. That's a pretty tough one! But you shall have it as cheap as we did. One thing I can tell for truth. Those that got into Jip's breast did come out around his shoulders and along his back. We used to pull them out after the points came through. They come out easy enough that way-point foremost. He had a pretty hard time of it, though, while they were going through him. He used to lie and howl and snap at the places.

The next time we went over to the pasture we took a turn up by the rock again. There were three young ones out a little way from the crevice. I suppose the death of the old one had driven them out to take care of themselves. They didn't see us till we had got close upon them. Quick as a wink they rolled up into three little balls. Will ran back after the bushel basket, while I stood by them with a little switch, to keep them from unrolling and running off. Whenever one would begin to raise his head I would give him a little tap with the stick, to make him sleep again. We carried them up in the basket. They looked just like three little yellow dumplings. We kept them a long while in an open pen made of boards. They would eat mice and most any kind of berries. After the apples got ripe, we used to feed them with the sweet ones. They would play with each other a little sometimes. they were rather mean-dispositioned little chaps-regular hedgehogs! And we weren't much sorry when they turned up among the missing one morning. But I've often thought since that we did treat the family over there in the Great Rock rather mean. And I'm rather sorry I helped pound the old one to death. I know girls would think we were horrid cruel; and I suppose we were. But when have the stronger ever let the weaker alone? Besides, after we had once begun upon them and lost our trap, it came to be a point of honor with us to take their fort somehow. We said just as Mr. Henry read to us what Cato, an old Roman, said about Carthage-" The Quillpigs must be destroyed."

But

WE were in search of a house, Paul and I, and when we saw Elm House we exclaimed in one breath, "What a lovely place!"

Elm House was a large old-fashioned brick house, with balcony and veranda running round two sides, and a neatly laid out yard surrounded by stately elms of a century's growth. The wide low rooms pleased us, and we were soon installed in Elm House.

The neighbors made so many queer remarks that I laughingly remarked to Paul: "I should think the place uncanny, by appearances."

"Perhaps it is," with a smile. "Why, Nell!" in a surprised tone.

"What is it?"

"Some one struck me."

"Has the ghost come so soon ?"
"Nonsense!" impatiently.

We had been at Elm House about a month, when Paul was late, and I ran down to the gate to meet him. Hearing a convulsive sobbing, I ran back to the house. The door was closed and refused to open. Bright lights shone through blood-red curtains, low 800thing words mingled with wild sobs as the door swung open of its own accord, and a funeral train wound slowly down the walk. A fair-haired, blue-eyed child stood on the steps sobbing wildly, her little arms outstretched after the silent loved one who nevermore would heed the pleading childish voice. A young woman now appeared, and taking the child in her arms, disappeared up the oaken staircase, the door closing quickly and noiselessly behind her.

"Whither roam your thoughts, little one?" called Paul's familiar voice, a moment later. Making some light reply, I watched with some curiosity to see him open the door. After several ineffectual efforts he asked, in surprise, what made me fasten the door as I came out.

"I did not fasten it," I replied.

He rang the bell; the girl tried her skill in vain to let us in, and we were obliged to go round the back way.

That night, as I was passing through the hall, I found the door open, and closed and bolted it. Paul, coming in soon after, said, carelessly:

66

'Nonsense!" said I. "You had a bad dream probably."

"I was wide awake as ever I was," she retorted, in a positive tone.

I laughed, coaxed, and offered to increase her wages to no purpose. Here I will say that I had several girls, but none stayed over a week until- But I anticipate.

It was a lovely August night, and Paul and I sat in the parlor singing duets by moonlight. The silver moon shone into the room with mild beauty, and pale shadows danced and played on wall and carpet as the fragrant summer wind stirred the elm branches.

"How cool and refreshing this wind is," exclaimed Paul, suddenly.

As he spoke I felt a current of cold air fill the room; so cool, indeed, I shivered in my thin dress. The air grew colder, and an awful fear of I knew not what chilled my blood. I glanced at Paul; his face was deathly pale.

There was the sound of footsteps in the hall, the door swung open silently, a man entered bearing a dead child-the same I had seen on the steps-in his arms.

He walked to the hearth-Elm House had an old-fashioned brick hearth and fireplaceremoved the bricks, placed the child in the cavity, and then replaced the bricks.

The next day Paul had the bricks removed, and to our horror there was found the skeleton of a child.

We were not disturbed for some time after

this, and when we were, the ghostly sights had entirely changed in character, and were only seen in the chambers, one small room at the back of the house being particularly affected. At night a woman might be seen slowly traversing the rooms, looking back with fearful glances, as if she were followed, always going to the smaller room.

One night, late in October, I was awakened by a feeling of dread. To my dismay I saw the face of my ghostly visitor close to my own. Waving her hand, as if for me to follow her, she moved to the door. With a beating heart I rose. Swiftly she glided on through hall and chambers, never pausing until reaching the room I before mentioned. Touching a black spot on the paper a tiny door swung open, showing a narrow shelf laden with manuscripts.

There was a slight noise, and turning I saw a man glaring with fierce fiendish eyes on the woman's shrinking figure. He appeared to ask some question. She drew herself up to her full height with a gesture of disdain and loathing. With one stride he was by her side, grasping her throat. There was a gurgling cry, and with a wild shriek, I fell lifeless to the floor.

"Is she dead ?" I asked, eagerly, on recovering.

Then, seeing Paul's bewildered face, I told him what I had seen. Together we sought the chamber, and lo! the secret door stood open. With eager hands we gathered up the papers and read:

"June, 1834. "With the consciousness that death-perhaps violent-is near me, that I pen these pages, hoping at some future time some one will find them.

"There were only three of us-Maurice, Hattie and I-Fanny Hartwell. Hattie married a poor man, and father, a stern old man, never forgave her, or allowed me to visit her; but I did secretly until she went west. I never heard from her afterwards, but I can't believe they are all dead, Hattie, Leslie and little Paul, if they do tell me so. It is to make my will in their favor, and I never will -never!

"When father died I went to live with Maurice. His wife's father and brother were there also. In a little while Maurice sickened and died. O, the horror, the agony I suffered when I knew they poisoned him! In a few weeks his wife followed him, and I was alone, save their little girl. O, how angry they were when Clara died, and they were not guardians to little Dell.

"I wanted to go to Hattie then, but Dell was ailing, and they kept me closely. O my darling, I can hear your shrieks of agony even now, when the cruel blows cut your tender flesh! My brain is on fire as I think. Well, my darling died, and Jasper took up the brick hearth to put her under it. There is another angel in heaven to greet me when I go. All are gone, all!

"They-Jasper and his father-have tried every way to make me marry one of them. I shall carry the marks of their brutality to my grave, but I will never yield, Heaven help me! never."

Here a number of pages were blotted. Several months had elapsed before the narrative again commenced.

Here the narrative closed abruptly.

"Yes, it is me! I am little Paul!" exclaimed Paul, excitedly, as he perused the will. "I have a faint remembrance of her," he continued, "but we never heard from her after going west. Poor Aunt Fanny!"

The will was proved, and Paul received his aunt's property; not all, but enough to set him up in business, and give us a beautiful home with considerable besides.

Elm House was never after disturbed.