“No, my dear; at least he has hinted so; we must wait to hear.” Ten, fifteen, twenty more anxious days passed, heavily, and then came a second letter from Mr., now Captain, Helmstedt, postmarked New York, and bringing the intelligence that upon the next day succeeding the writing of the first letter, he had received orders to depart immediately with his troops to join General Van Rennselaer on the Canadian frontier; that the suddenness of the departure and the rapidity of the journey had prevented him, until now, from writing a line home; but that they were now delayed in New York, for a day or two, waiting for a reinforcement from the State militia. This was the last letter that Mrs. Helmstedt received for many months; but she sent on and ordered the principal Northern papers, that she might be kept advised of the progress of the campaign. Alas! little but continuous disaster signalized this opening of the war; repeated rebuffs, varied by small successes, and climaxing in the defeat of Hull, and the loss of Detroit, with all Michigan territory. These calamities, while they shocked, aroused the temperate blood of all those laggards at home, who, until now, had looked on philosophically, while others went forth to fight. Colonel Houston applied for orders, and old Colonel Compton sat in his leathern armchair, and swore at the gouty limb that unfitted him for service. At length the news of the disastrous defeat of Van Rennselaer, on the fourth of October, followed by his resignation of the command reached them. And when General Smythe, of Virginia, was appointed to fill his post, Colonel Houston received orders to join the latter, and proceed with him to the Northern frontier. Ralph Houston was most anxious to enter upon the service; but at the earnest entreaty of his father, reluctantly consented to remain, for awhile, at the Bluff, for the protection of the family left behind. Mrs. Houston accompanied her husband as far as Buffalo, where she remained to be in easy reach of him. At the Bluff were left old Colonel and Mrs. Compton (“a comfortable couple,” who were always, and especially now, in their quiet old age, company enough for each other), and Ralph Houston as a caretaker.