Often er, however, that call came to them from no human lips, but borne on the very breeze, in the faintly heard sound of distant musketry fire, telling that the invader was up the county again. Let us recall such a scene. It is a morning in early spring, with the wind fresh, from the northeast, presage of coming storm, though still the skies are bright. The militia-man has just returned to his home from long service with his regiment. He is early in his field upon one of those hills which look out up the Saw Mill River Valley. Mark his active toil. How strenuously he strives to make good, as best he may, the days which he has stolen from farm and family and given to his country. And now, after a long period of unceasing labor, though the

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day is still young, he pauses a moment, faces the north and listens. What faint echoes are these, which come to him from the far northward ? Is it the having of the hounds as they follow the fox over the hills ; or indeed, is there far nobler game to-day afoot up the valley? Note his very attitude. The implement of husbandry, the hoe or spade, slips unheeded from his grasp ; his form straightens and then bends slightly forward ; the good right hand, with open palm slightly inward curved, is raised behind the ear; the right foot is forward flung; the left arm falls behind ; the lines of the noble face grow tense ; and the fire of battle begins to- blaze in his eyes, as with eager glance he scans the northern horizon. The sound, which the loyal wind, loving the fair manor well, now brings in increasing volume, needs no interpretation to-his ears.