When and where, it matters not now to relate—­but once upon a time as I was passing through a thinly peopled district of country, night came down upon me, almost unawares.  Being on foot, I could not hope to gain the village toward which my steps were directed, until a late hour; and I therefore preferred seeking shelter and a night’s lodging at the first humble dwelling that presented itself.

Dusky twilight was giving place to deeper shadows, when I found myself in the vicinity of a dwelling, from the small uncurtained windows of which the light shone with a pleasant promise of good cheer and comfort.  The house stood within an enclosure, and a short distance from the road along which I was moving with wearied feet.  Turning aside, and passing through an ill-hung gate, I approached the dwelling.  Slowly the gate swung on its wooden hinges, and the rattle of its latch, in closing, did not disturb the air until I had nearly reached the little porch in front of the house, in which a slender girl, who had noticed my entrance, stood awaiting my arrival.

A deep, quick bark answered, almost like an echo, the sound of the shutting gate, and, sudden as an apparition, the form of an immense dog loomed in the doorway.  I was now near enough to see the savage aspect of the animal, and the gathering motion of his body, as he prepared to bound forward upon me.  His wolfish growl was really fearful.  At the instant when he was about to spring, a light hand was laid upon his shaggy neck, and a low word spoken.

“Don’t be afraid.  He won’t hurt you,” said a voice, that to me sounded very sweet and musical.

I now came forward, but in some doubt as to the young girl’s power over the beast, on whose rough neck her almost childish hand still lay.  The dog did not seem by any means reconciled to my approach, and growled wickedly his dissatisfaction.

“Go in, Tiger,” said the girl, not in a voice of authority yet in her gentle tones was the consciousness that she would be obeyed; and, as she spoke, she lightly bore upon the animal with her hand, and he turned away, and disappeared within the dwelling.

“Who’s that?” A rough voice asked the question; and now a heavy-looking man took the dog’s place in the door.

“Who are you?  What’s wanted?” There was something very harsh and forbidding in the way the man spoke.  The girl now laid her hand upon his arm, and leaned, with a gentle pressure, against him.

“How far is it to G——?” I asked, not deeming it best to say, in the beginning, that I sought a resting-place for the night.

“To G——!” growled the man, but not so harshly as at first.  “It’s good six miles from here.”

“A long distance; and I’m a stranger, and on foot,” said I.  “If you can make room for me until morning, I will be very thankful.”

I saw the girl’s hand move quickly up his arm, until it rested on his shoulder, and now she leaned to him still closer.