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TWENTY-SECOND EVENING.

THE WANDERER'S RETURN.

It was á delightful evening about the end of August. The sun setting in a pure sky illuminated the tops of the western hills, and tipped the opposite trees with a yellow lustre.

A traveller, with sun-burnt cheeks and dusty feet, strong and active, having a knapsack at his back, had gained the summit of a steep ascent, and stood gazing on the plain below.

This was a wide tract of champaign country, checquered with villages, whose towers and spires peeped above the trees in which they were embosomed. The space between them was chiefly arable land, from which the last products of the harvest were busily carrying away.

A rivulet winded through the plain ;

its course marked with

gray

willows. On its banks were verdant meadows, covered with lowing herds, moving slowly to the milk-maids, who came tripping along with pails on their heads. A thick wood clothed the side of a gentle eminence rising from the water, crowned with the ruins of an ancient castle.

Edward (that was the traveller's name) dropped on one knee, and clasping his hands, exclaimed, “ Welcome, welcome, my dear native land! Many a sweet spot have I seen since I left thee, but none so sweet as thou ! Never has thy dear. image been out of my memory; and now with what transport

; do I retrace all thy charms! O receive me again never more to quit thee !" So saying, he threw himself on the turf, and having kissed it, roșe and proceeded on his journey.

As he descended into the plain, he

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he overtook a little group of children, merrily walking along the path, and stopping now and then to gather berries in the hedge.

“ Where are you going, my dears?" said Edward.

“ We are going home,” they all replied. « And where is that?"

Why to Summerton, that town there among the trees, just before us. Don't

“ I see it well,” answered Edward, the tear standing in his eye.

“ And what is your name – and yours—and yours?"

The little innocents told their names. Edward's heart leaped at the wellknown sounds.

“ And what is your name, my dear?" said he to a pretty girl, somewhat older than the rest, who hung back shyly, and

you see it?"

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held the hand of a ruddy white-headed boy, just breeched.

" It is Rose Walsingham, and this is my younger brother, Roger."

Walsingham.!Edward clasped the girl round the neck, and surprised her with two or three very close kisses. He then lifted up little Roger, and almost devoured him. Roger seemed as if he wanted to be set down again, but Edward told him he would carry him home.

“ And can you show me the house you live at, Rose ?” said Edward.

“ Yes--it is just there, beside the pond, with the great barn before it, and the orchard behind."

“ And will you take me home with

you, Rose ?"

If you please," answered Rose, hesitatingly.

They walked on; Edward said but little, for his heart was full, but he frequently kissed little Roger.

Coming at length to a stile from which a path led across a little close, “ This is the way to our house,” said Rose.

The other children parted. Edward set down Roger, and got over the stile. He still, however, kept hold of the boy's hand. He trembled, and looked wildly around him.

When they approached the house, an old mastiff came running to meet the children. He looked up at Edward rather sourly, and gave a little growl ; when all at once his countenance changed; he leaped upon him, licked his hand, wagged his tail, murmured in a soft voice, and seemed quite overcome with joy. Edward stooped down, patted his head, and cried, “ Poor Captain, what, are you alive yet ?” Rose was

, surprised that the stranger and their dog should know one another.

They all entered the house together.

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