All was quiet, lonely and dark on this side of the shore under the hill, but beyond, where the rays of the sun had reached, was beginning life and activity. A schooner, becalmed until now, began to move with the breeze that greeted the waking of day. The train had but just left the little station, and again had two strangers alighted. One, the older, trudged up the hill covered with a great-coat, and with hands in his pockets. He walked rather rapidly, looking sharply around once or twice. As he neared the top, where the country rolls off into the plain, he turned to admire the spectacle of the breaking day. His glance followed the road, and he saw below the second figure walking along in a hurry, as though to make up for lost time. He smiled and said to himself: "That fellow Martin is a persistent youngster, anyway." A few yards more brought him to the crest of the hill; then he suddenly stopped, for before him was unfolded a stretch of rolling ground, well filled with trees in autumnal foliage, and beyond, the spires and the sky-line of a sleeping town. To his right he beheld a large wooded tract extending for at least a mile down the river, and in the dim distance the shaded outlines of an old mansion. Over all was the glorious yellow sun. The new fresh rays caught the leaves on the trees and on the ground, and kissed away the frost of the October morning. The traveller drew a long breath. "I have been over the world, almost, but never did I know such splendor was so near my office," said he, half aloud. He had discovered what some few had already known, that here at our doors, if one is not too indifferent, can be found the scenery one seeks in a month's journey. While walking along, Moore, for he was the man, was overtaken by a milk-wagon which rattled by with its two horses; the driver, lashing his whip, seemed to mark the actual awakening to life of this rural community. "Say, how far to the hotel and which way?" asked Moore. "Down the road a piece. Come, get in. I'll drive ye." Moore jumped up alongside, and was thankful for the lift. As they sped along, he started at a sound in the distance like the faint crack of a whip, but duller. "What was that--a shot?" he said. "Yes; rather early, but poachers like to get on to the Mark place 'most any time. Didn't sound like much of a gun, though." They were now at the hotel, and Moore registered in the old dilapidated book, and went to his room before his breakfast. As he lay down for a moment to rest, all of the vivid experiences of the last twenty-four hours coursed through his brain. He followed the events of the evening before, and congratulated himself on being now relieved from anxiety, for a time at least.