until wearied of their efforts, and, fearing the approach of relief from the garrison of the fort, the two unwounded Indians rushed into the thicket for their rifles, to end the conflict. Taking advantage of this opportunity, the women started the horses, and the red-skins, not daring to pursue them, they were permitted to reach the fort in safety, from which a party set out to bring in the dead and scalped bodies of their husbands. Stories of such danger and fortitude as this can be but dimly realized by the women of to-day. Yet the annals of our early history are all too painfully darkened by such records; and it is well for the heroes of the prosperous present to know through what hardships this rich inheritance was secured to them. Emigration did not stop in Virginia any more than it had rested in Pennsylvania: "Westward to the star of empire takes its way;" and the glorious Valley of the Mississippi won forward the daring steps of the pioneers. It is known how long and terrible was the contest by which Kentucky was wrested, inch by inch, from her ancient owners, until her lovely soil, baptized in sorrow, received the name of the "dark and bloody ground." Here, as always where there is a chance for her development, and she is permitted to play her free part by the side of man, woman did her share of the onerous work, and had her share of the perils. One of the most terrible of the family histories of that period is the following, of the household of a widow, by the name of Shanks, full particulars of which are given in the history of Kentucky. On the night of the 10th of April, 1787, the house of Mrs. Shanks, on Cooper's Run, in Bourbon County, was attacked by Indians. This house, which was a double cabin, consisting of two rooms, with an open way between, contained, at the time the assault was made, besides the widow herself, a widowed daughter, three other daughters, a young girl, and two sons of adult age. Although the hour was near midnight, one of the young men still remained up, and in the opposite room a sister was busily engaged at the loom. An hour before, while they were yet unconscious of the actual presence of Indians, the suspicions of the son was aroused by the cry of owls, hooting to each other in the adjoining wood, in a rather unusual manner, and by the terror and excitement of the horses, who were enclosed, as customary, in a pound near the house. Several times the young man was on the point of awaking his brother, but as often refrained, through fear of being ridiculed for his timidity. At length hasty steps were heard without, and then came several sharp knocks at the door, accompanied by the usual question of the wayfarer, "Who keeps this house?" spoken in very good English.