appear, that Mr. Buckingham resolved to comply with their wishes, and to
remove on the morrow; and with hearts heavier than when they left home,
they started to return to it.

"Do you perceive the smell of smoke? If it should be our cottage!" said
Ellen Buckingham, first breaking the silence in which they rode along.

"The woods may be on fire again: do not be alarmed; the conversation
this evening has unnerved you," replied her husband; but he could not
conceal the tremor of his own voice, as a horrible fear entered into his
heart; a fear, soon to become a more horrible certainty!

As they drew near, the air became thick with smoke, and when they
entered the cleared ground and looked for their home, no home was there!
Instead, burning rafters and smoking ruins: around, the ground was
trodden down by many feet of moccasined men. Partly consumed by the
fire, lay the bodies of two farm-servants who had been in Mr.
Buckingham's employ; a tomahawk, smeared with fresh blood, lay among the
smoking embers; and a golden curl singed by fire, was near it--all they
could discover of little Emily!

The murderers had left, doubtless disappointed that, their prey was so
small; and in the first moments of agony, the bereaved parents wished
that they too had fallen victims to their fiendish rage. Emily was dead,
certainly dead! The fresh blood, the lock of hair, proved it only too
clearly; her body had been consumed by the flames. The light of their
lives had been put out, the glory had passed away from their sky, and
they must now go mourning all their days; they felt as did a parent in
the olden time, whose words are recorded in Scripture, "If I am bereaved
of my children, I am bereaved." One little hour had changed the aspect
of the whole earth to them.

And yet, broken-hearted as they were, they must act: not now could they
fold their hands in despair. Soon was the news of the Indian rising
spread among the settlers; and while all flew to arms, and joined in the
necessary preparations, tears fell from eyes that were never known to
weep before, and rough men spoke soothing words to the mourners; for
little Emily was known and loved by all for miles around, and many said
"she need not change much to be made an angel." It was agreed that with
the earliest dawn, when the women and children were safely disposed of,
they should meet at the ruins of the Hopedale Cottage, so was it called,
and follow the trail of the savages through