door, a dog, evidently not liking our packs, sprang out at us, and from
down below in the marshy flats floated the voice of a man calling to us.

"Get out o' that!" hailed the voice. "There's nothing there for you."

Poor Colin! We were evidently taken for tramps once more.

However, undaunted by this reception, we reached the cottage door, and at
our knock appeared a very old, but evidently vigorous, woman.

"Is this Mrs. Mulligan's house?"

Her name on the lips of two strangers brought a surprised smile to her
face--a pleasant feeling of importance, even notoriety, no doubt--and she
speedily made us welcome, and, with many apologies, set before us the
cold remains of lunch which had been over an hour or two ago--cold
squash, pumpkin pie, cheese and milk. It was too bad we were late, for
they had had a chicken for dinner, and had sent the remains of it to a
friend down the road,--our trapper, no doubt,--and if the fire hadn't
gone out she would have made us some tea. Now, cold squash is not exactly
an inflammatory diet, but we liked the old lady so much, she had such a
pleasant, motherly way with her, and such an entertaining, wise and even
witty tongue, that we decided that cold squash, with her as hostess, was
better than a stalled ox and hatred therewith.

Presently the door opened and the good man entered, he who had called to
us from the marsh--a tall, emaciated old man, piteously thin, and old,
and work-weary to look on, but with a keen, bright eye in his head, and
something of a proud air about his ancient figure. It seemed cruel to
think of his old bones having still to go on working, but our two old
people, who seemed pathetically fond of each other, were evidently very
poor, like the rest of the valley. The old man excused himself for his
salutation of us--but there were so many dangerous characters about, and
the old folk shook their heads and told of the daring operations of
mysterious robbers in the neighbourhood. In their estimation, the times
were generally unsafe, and lawless characters rife in the land. We looked
around at the pathetic poverty of the place--and wondered why they should
disquiet themselves. Poor souls! there was little left to rob them of,
save the fluttering remnants of their mortal breath. But, poor as they
were, they had their telephone,--a fact that struck us paradoxically in
many a poor cabin as we went along. Yes! had they a mind, they could
call up the White House, that ins