The incidents about to be narrated are believed to have taken place near the commencement of the nineteenth century, when the country of Kentucky, from Lexington to Louisville, was one entire forest, and when, instead of the planter’s handsome dwelling, now so common, there was only the rude log hut surrounded, perhaps, by a few acres of half-cleared land. Brave, indeed, must have been the heart of the hardy yeoman, who, forsaking the home of his fathers, went forth into the wilds of Kentucky, and there, amid dangers innumerable, laid the foundation of the many handsome towns which now dot the surface of that fair State. Woman, too, timid, shrinking woman, was there, and in moments of the most appalling danger the daring courage she displayed equalled that shown by her husband, father and brother. Often on the still midnight air rang out the fearful war-cry, speaking of torture and death to the inmates of the rude dwelling whose flames, rising high over the tree tops, warned some other lonely settler that the enemy was upon his track. But spite of all dangers and difficulties, the tide of emigration poured steadily in upon Kentucky, until where once the Indian hunter and wild beast held undisputed sway, there may now be seen fertile gardens and cultivated fields, handsome towns and flourishing cities. CHAPTER II. DEACON WILDER. Brightly looked forth the stars on one February night, while the pale moon, yet in its first quarter, hung in the western sky, illuminating as far as was possible the little settlement of P——, Virginia. In a large square building, the house of Deacon Wilder, there was a prayer meeting, consisting mostly of members from “the first families in Virginia.” In this meeting Deacon Wilder took a prominent part, although there was an unusually mournful cadence in the tones of his voice; and twice during the reading of the psalm was he obliged to stop for the purpose of wiping from his eyes two large tear-drops, which seemed sadly out of place on the broad, good-humoured face of the deacon. Other eyes there were, too, on whose long lashes the heavy moisture glistened, and whose faces told of some sad event which either had happened or was about to happen. The cause of all this sorrow was this: Ere the night for the weekly prayer meeting again came, Deacon Wilder and his family, who were universally liked, would be far on the road toward home in the dense forests of Kentucky. In that old-fashioned kitchen were many who had come long, weary miles for the sake of again shaking the deacon’s hand, and again telling his gentle wife how surely their hearts would go with her to her home in the far west.