Our Lome. 193
letter from my father, to my exceeding satisfaction.
He had seen my name in some educational journal,
and so had learned that I was still living, and where
to address me. He had gone to Milford on that
night when I last saw him ; had crossed to Ireland,
horse and all—for he dared not sell it nearer home—
and from thence had sailed to America, where he
was now settled. He had given up his old habits,
he told me, and was now sober and steady. He had
marricd again, and was getting on pretty well ;
though he did not find America the land of plenty
he had heard it called, for if wages were high, the
necessaries of life were high too. In conclusion, he
thanked me for preventing that which he had
planned to do on that last night, asked my pardon
for the way he had treated me, and begged for an
answer. I wrote one that same evening, and so
far as it lies in my power, the correspondence shall
never flag between us. Oh the happiness of being
able again to hold up my head and say, “My father!”
I was always proud of him as far back as I can
remember, and now, at least, I need not be ashamed
of him any more. Mrs. Howells is almost angry
with me for caring for him, as though that could
make me care a bit the less for the dear master
who is more than a father to me.

We are under the care of Mrs. Howells again.

N