m a troubled dream to see the ghost of his murdered
kinsman standing at his bedside. The spectre spoke to him in urgent
tones:

"'Inverawe, Inverawe, blood has been shed; shield not the
murderer!'

"Unable to sleep, my father rose, and went to the fugitive and told
him he could not shelter him longer. 'You swore on your dirk!'
replied the miserable man; and my father, admitting the oath not to
betray him, led him away in the darkness and hid him in a mountain
cave known to hardly any save himself.

"That night once more the spectre came and spoke the same words,
'Inverawe, Inverawe, blood has been shed; shield not the murderer!'
The vision troubled my father greatly. At daybreak he went once
more to the cave; but the man was gone--whither he never knew. He
went home, and again upon the third night the ghostly figure stood
beside him; but this time he was less stern of voice and aspect.

"He spoke these words, 'Farewell, Inverawe; farewell, till we meet
at Ticonderoga.' Then it vanished, and he has never seen it since."

"Ticonderoga!" repeated Lord Howe, and looked steadily at
Alexander, who proceeded:

"That was the word. My father had never heard it before. The sound
of it was so strange that he wrote it down; and when I was a youth
of perhaps seventeen summers, and had become a companion to him, he
told me the whole story, and we pondered together as to what and
where Ticonderoga could be. Years had passed since he saw the
vision, and he had never heard the name from that day. I had not
heard it either--then."

The faces of the listeners were full of grave interest. The
strangeness of the coincidence struck them all.

"And then?" queried Howe, after a silence.

"Then came the news of this war, and some Highland regiments were
ordered off. My father and I were amongst those to go. We were long
in hearing what our destination was to be. We had landed upon these
shores before we heard that the expedition to which we were
attached was bound for Ticonderoga."

Again there was silence, which Mrs. Schuyler broke by asking
gently:

"And your father thinks that there is some doom connected with that
name?"

"He is convinced that be will meet his death there," replied
Alexander, "and I confess I fear the same myself."

Nobody spoke for a minute, and then Mrs. Schuyler said softly:

"It is a strange, weird story; yet it cannot but be true. No man
could guess at such a name. Ticonderoga, Ticonderoga. I wonder