Vermont phÅ“nix. [volume] (Brattleboro, Vt.) 1834-1955, 1837-04-21
From the Ladies' Companion.
THE RETURN.


win all the vividness Of the present BY
} what hidden chain OF associations is i
! brought about that when the thots are tax
en- up and wholly occupied by the matter-of
Tact business of our own ripper years, these
delightful visions of the past viii often visit
us, accompanied by train Of fond macin
lngs, and tender recolections2
There are certain periods in the life oil
every man on which his memory loves 10
dwell. Perhaps length Of time, like dis.
lance OF place, by sofening asperites of the
view may heighten its loneliness. The lii.
tie annoyances and discomfons common to
every situation and every period and which
so greatly swell the amount of human mis-.
cry are forgotten--ihe happiness alone is
remembered. We thus seem 10 look back
on period of perfect bliss, and wonder at
ourselves that we were not then even more
sensible Of enjoyment
IL was with these feelings that George
| Elliot resolved to revisit the scenes of his
| youth and early manhood Long a wan.
derer from his native home, he had travers.
ed the burning plains of India aud the fro
zen regions OF the North. Wealth, the
object of his tolls, he had at length acquir-
ed and in such abundance as to satisfy his
desires-and now. with his locks, once black
as the raven, discolored and parched by ex-
posure, his complexion salowed by the sun
Of the tropics, with no vestige OF the life
aud vigor which once flashed in every
glance of that eye, and swelled in every
muscle of that form, behold-the wanderer
returns to his New England village
1t was summer sunset, such as in Au.
gust, after the meridian heat so calmy, so
holly, closes a day in the country and
never did those setting rays ilumine so
beautiful landscape. The village with It's
tasteful mansions, and neat, but humble cot.
tages--its rising spires and busy mill, the
mountain directly in the back ground, crest
cd with lake, on whose blue waters was
observable light boat swiftly skimming
over the waves; the larmyards with their
lowing herds--togeiher formed picture OF
rural quiet aud refined elegance, perhaps
only TO be met within our Eastern States
Travelling without the oslentationto which
his wealth might have entitled him. George
Elliot alighted from the dusty stage, and en-.
tered the principal hotel Ii was long since
he had heard any tidings from his family,
aud now as every object brought fresh to
his memory the scenes Of bis youth, and
crowd of happy recolecrons pressed upon
his mind, lie utmost feared to make INQUIRIES
after those so deeply endeared to him
Their, was the same old church, with its
slender spire and time worn entrance, with
in those walls he had so often listened 10 the
venerable pastor. The neat and unpre,end-
ing academy, where his mind had first re-
ceived the elements OF classic lore-the play
ground, once the scene Of his wild gambols
and, aiar oil, among the trees, the chin
ney of house of the better order, but fall
ing gradually TO decay-fhat was once his
home. The wanGerer pressed his hand to
his brow-l thought he brushed a tear from |
his furiowed cheek
1t is q strange feeling, that which comes !
across us when after a heightened absence,
first revising the scenes of our childhood
the abode Of all we love-what fears and |
anxieties crowd on the mind 1t seems al
most impossible that we can find all as we
could wish-we pause 1T the Threshold Of
the beloved home-we fear TO enter, lest |
death or disease may have visited those forms
which are all TO us-we cannot inquire Of
strangers-it seems like PROCLAMATION.
George Elliot left the hotel and walked
rapidly towards his well-remembered dwell. |
ing. To reach il be was obliged to pass
through the principal street of the village,
and every object on his way reminded him
of by-gone days. But where were the ia
miliar faces he was wont 10 recognize,
where the companions of his youth, where
the instructors Of his boybood? All seem
ed strange, and the wanderer felt alone-at
last he reached the parsonage, once the
dwelling Of the venerable pastor-his we'll
remembered friend. He certainly could no
longer be living-for twenty years before,
the wanderer had left him an aged man.
But he had then chld-an only daughter,
about ten years old She might still survive;
and an undefnable feeling prompted him to
enter He was received at the door by
fine looking man, apparently between thirty
and forty, who requested him to enter with
kindness and hospitality. After a few at
tempts at general conversation, which Elliot
felt too deeply agitated TO sustain, he pro-
ceeded to inquire after the former pastor, and
learned that ten years before, he had taken
his last leave of earth. He was succeeded
by the present clergyman, who had married
the old mans daughter
us there not" said the wanderer, striving
to conceal his agitation, "a family of the
name of Elliot in your neighborhood ?"
"Oh, yes sir" replied the clergyman.
they live in that old mansion among the
trees. Indeed am myself one of that fam
ily-I am a son of old John Elliot who
lives in that house."
"a nd is he then still livino ~ on oerlv in