Year: 1878

ton had dispersed, but IL was not yet
closed. His steps echoed through the
low building with y hollow sound, and
he almost feared to be alone, 1t was so
still and quiet He looked round him.


Nothing was changed. The place seemed
smaller than 1t used to be, but there were


the old monuments ON which he had
gazed with childish ave Il thousand


times; the communion table before which


he had 30 often repeated the commands
ments he had reverenced as a child and


forgotten as man, He approached the
| old seat il looked cold and deSolate,
! The cushion had been removed, and the


bible wss not there. Perhaps his mother


now occupied poorer seat, or possibly
she had grown infirm and could not reach


the church alone. He dared not think
Of what he feared. A cold feeling crept
over him, and he trembled violently as
he turned away.


can old man entered the porch Just
as he reached it. Edmunds started back
for he knew him we'll; many time he
had watched him digging graves in the
churchyard. What would he say to the
returned convict?


"The old man raised his eyes to the
strangers face, bid HIM good evening"
and walked slowly on. He had forgotten
him.


He walked down the hill and through
the village The weather was warm,
and the people were sitting at their
doors, or strolIing in the little gardens
as he passed, enjoying the serenity of
the evening and their rest from labor.
Many a look was turned towards him,
and many a doubtful glance he cast on
either side to see whether any knew and
stunned him. There were strange faces
in almost every house; in some he rec
ognized the burly form of some old
schoofellOw, Toy when he last saw
him, surrounded by troop of merry
children in Others he saw, seated in an
easy chair at a cottage door, feeble and
intirm old man whom he Onl ly remember
ed as Il hale and hearty laborer hut they
had all forgotten him, and he passed on
unknown.


"The last soft light of the setting sun
had fallen on the earth, casting rich
glow on the yellow corn sheaves, and
lengthening the shadows OF the orchard
trees, as he stood before the old house,
the home OF his infancy, to which his
heart had yearned with an intensity of
affection not to be described through
long and weary years of captivity and
sorrow. The paling was low though he
well remembered the time when it had
seemed high wall to him; and he
looked over into the old garden, There
were more seeds and gayer flowers than
there used to be, but there were the old
trees still, the very tree under which he
had lain thousand times when tired of
playing in the sun, and felt the soft,
mild sleep OF happy boyhood steal gently
upon him. There were voices within
the house. He listened, but they fell
strangely upon his ear he knew them
not. They were merry, too, and he well
knew that his poor old mother could not
be cheerful, and he went away. Tie
door opened, and group of little chil.
dren bounded out shouting and romphlg
The father, with a little boy in his arms
appeared at the door and they crowded |
around him, clapping their tiny hands,
and dragging him out to join their joyful
sports. The convict thought on the
many times he had shrunk from his. faith.
er's sight in that very place. He re-
membered how often he had buried his
trembling head beneath the bed clothes
and heard the harsh word and the hard |
stripe, and his mothers wailing; and |
though the man sObbed aloud with agony |
OF mind as he left the spot; his fist was
and his teeth were set il fierce
and deadly passion.


And such was the return TO which he
had looked through the weary perspec-
tive of many years, and for which he
had undergone 80 much sufleringl No
face of welcome, no look of forgiveness,
no house to receive, no hand to help him
and this, too, in the old village. What
WAS his loneliness in the wild thick woods
where man was never seen to this


He felt that in the distant land of
his bondage and infamy he had thought
OF his native place rs it was when he
left it; not as il would be when he
returned. The sad reality struck coldly
at his heart, and his spirit sank within
him. He had not the courage TO make
inquiries, or to present himself to the
only person who was likely to receive
him with kindness and compassion. He
walked slowly on; and stunning the
roadside like guilty man, turned into a
meadow he well remembered; and GOV.
ering his face with his hands, threw him
self upon the grass.


"He had not observed that man was |
lying on the bank beside him his gar
ments rustled as he turned round to |
steal look at the new conner; and Ed |
munds raised his head.


"The man had moved into sitting |
posture. His body was much bent, and |
mis- face was wrinkled and yellow. His |
dress denoted him an inmate Of the |
workkouse; he bad the appearance of
being very old, but it looked more the
effect of dissipation or disease than length
of years. He was staring hard at the
stranger, and though his eyes were
lusterless and heavy at first, they ap
peared to glow with an unnatural and
alarmed expression after they had been
fixed upon him short time, until they
seemed to be starting from their sockets.
Edmunds gradually raised himself to his
knees, and looked more and more earn.
e.tly into the old mans face. They gszed
upon each other in silence.


"The old man was CHASTITY pale. he
shuddered and tottered 10 his feet, Ed
munds sprang to his He stepped back
pace or two. Edmunds advanced.


"Let me hear you speak, said the
convict, in thick broken voice.


"S.and Off cri Il the old man, with
a dreadful oatn. 1he convict drew closer
to him.


Stand Off shrieked the old man.
Furious with terror he raised his stick,
and struck Edmunds Leavy blow across
the face.


Ht tFatbay-daviIp y mitrmu rad the cop.