The family consisted of but four members—a tall, noble-looking man, a little past the meridian of life, with piercing eyes, and dark locks sprinkled with white, falling rather thinly over his broad forehead. His dress was of the plainest, coarsest drab cloth; indeed, there was nothing to distinguish it from that of the negro servant who attended him, except the natural grace and dignity imparted by the manly form of the wearer. The other two occupants of this secluded abode were a young girl, who might have numbered seventeen summers, and an elderly female, who had once been her nurse, but who was now a sort of housekeeper in general, inasmuch as there was none other to superintend the domestic arrangements; but had you taken a peep into the interior of the cottage, you would have seen no lack of comfort, and even some faint show of taste, considering the dearth of material. A coarse carpet was thrown over the rough log-door, and ranged around the sides of the apartment were rustic seats composed of branches of trees, covered, sofa-like, with skins of animals, forming comfortable couches for sitting or reclining. Indian blankets, tastefully embroidered, served as a partition between this and a small room adjoining, which was fitted up for the young lady’s boudoir, and which was occupied in common by both females. Here, on a table of oak, covered with kid-skin, lay a few books, and a guitar, evidently the relics of other days. A large sea-shell served for a vase, and stood on the rude table, filled with wood-flowers, the first gift of summer. Perhaps, too, you might have noticed some large, massive chests in either apartment, and wondered how such ponderous articles had found place in so small a habitation; but we have a key to the mystery, reader, and will give it thee, together with the secret of this secluded family. Some eighteen months prior to the time our chapter commences, a gentlemanly-looking resident of the new Quaker city, calling himself, John Brown, saw every where posted up, by order of the new king, directions for the seizure and arrest of all persons known or supposed to be implicated in the fate of Charles Stuart—with large rewards held out as an incentive, to those who should successfully aid the king’s officers in their search. It was an hour of darkness to many a poor fugitive, for disguises were no longer to be trusted, and life’s last hope lay in strict concealment in rocks or forests, or amid the haunts of the savages. Every tie of kindred was now to be sundered—every communication with the world of mankind to be cut off, and the wanderer was henceforward to live with all the golden threads of being rudely snapped by a tyrant. There was no time to be lost, for “blood for blood” was the royal watchword, and his legions were on the track.