of the Notch is a great artery
through which the life-blood of internal commerce is continually
throbbing between Maine on one side and the Green Mountains and the
shores of the St. Lawrence on the other. The stage-coach always drew
up before the door of the cottage. The wayfarer with no companion but
his staff paused here to exchange a word, that the sense of loneliness
might not utterly overcome him ere he could pass through the cleft of
the mountain or reach the first house in the valley. And here the
teamster on his way to Portland market would put up for the night,
and, if a bachelor, might sit an hour beyond the usual bedtime and
steal a kiss from the mountain-maid at parting. It was one of those
primitive taverns where the traveller pays only for food and lodging,
but meets with a homely kindness beyond all price. When the footsteps
were heard, therefore, between the outer door and the inner one, the
whole family rose up, grandmother, children and all, as if about to
welcome some one who belonged to them, and whose fate was linked with
theirs.

The door was opened by a young man. His face at first wore the
melancholy expression, almost despondency, of one who travels a wild
and bleak road at nightfall and alone, but soon brightened up when he
saw the kindly warmth of his reception. He felt his heart spring
forward to meet them all, from the old woman who wiped a chair with
her apron to the little child that held out its arms to him. One
glance and smile placed the stranger on a footing of innocent
familiarity with the eldest daughter.

"Ah! this fire is the right thing," cried he, "especially when there
is such a pleasant circle round it. I am quite benumbed, for the Notch
is just like the pipe of a great pair of bellows; it has blown a
terrible blast in my face all the way from Bartlett."

"Then you are going toward Vermont?" said the master of the house as
he helped to take a light knapsack off the young man's shoulders.

"Yes, to Burlington, and far enough beyond," replied he. "I meant to
have been at Ethan Crawford's to-night, but a pedestrian lingers along
such a road as this. It is no matter; for when I saw this good fire
and all your cheerful faces, I felt as if you had kindled it on
purpose for me and were waiting my arrival. So I shall sit down among
you and make myself at home."

The frank-hearted stranger had just drawn his chair to the fire when
something like a heavy footstep was heard without,