Then she consulted her relatives, and together they fixed upon a early day in January for the migration of the family. The General did not wish to move before that time, as he always preferred to spend his Christmas and New Year’s holidays at Old Lyon Hall. Drusilla wrote again, and told her servants on what day to expect herself and her party. But a very severe fall of snow, coming about the first of January, blocked up the country roads, impeded travel and delayed their journey, and also kept back the mails, so that for many days after the one appointed for their removal, the family remained at Old Lyon Hall, cut off from communication with the rest of the world. When at last there came a change of weather, and the snow melted and sunk into the earth, or was exhaled into the air, and the roads though muddy were passable, a messenger was sent to the post-office at Saulsburg to fetch the letters and papers. He returned in the afternoon with a mail-bag well stuffed. He brought it into the small parlor, where the domestic circle was gathered. Only those who have been under like circumstances long debarred from news, can realize the avidity with which that bag was seized and unlocked, and its contents turned out upon the center table around which the whole family party immediately clustered. There were several unimportant letters for everybody, which were, however, read with the greatest interest by these weather-bound recluses. And there was one which immediately fixed Drusilla’s attention. It was from Cedarwood, and dated a few days back. Mammy was the writer, and after dilating upon the complete readiness of the cottage to receive the expected company, she wrote. “And so we shall be a looking out for you on the fifth, ma’am. And now, I don’t no as there’s enny dainger, but before you brings yung Marster Lennud inter this enfected nayberhood, I deems it my duty to tell you as how the millignant skarlet fever is a ragin’ here, and a karryin’ off duzzins. All the childun at the Drovur’s Rest have got it; and likewise them that lives right across the road, opperside the gate as goes inter our place. But tho’ I deems it my duty for to tell you of this, I doo not no as there is enny danger, as in coorse yung Marster Lennud woudent be going amung them.” Danger? Drusilla grew sick and turned pale at the very thought. “What is the matter, my dear?” inquired General Lyon, looking up from his paper, and noticing her disturbance. She silently handed him the letter. He read it attentively, and then looking over his spectacles, said: “Of course, then, we must not think of going. Scarlet fever! bless my life and soul! Let us stay where we are.” “What is it, dear grandpa?” inquired Anna, looking up from her letter, while Dick laid down his paper to listen.