300 TWENTY-FIFTH EVENING.

ments into the manufactory, and rendered 1t a very
profitable concern. He lived prosperously and inde-
pendent, and retained in manhood all the friendships
of his youth.

 

THE WANDERER’S RETURN.

Ir was a delightful evening, about the end of August

ne sun, setting in a pure sky, ilum‘nated 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,
chequered with villages, whose towers and spires
peeped above the trees in which they were embosomed.
I'he space between them was chiefly arable land, from
which the last products of the harvest. were busily
carrying away.

A rivulet wound through the plain, its course
marked with grey willows. On its banks were verdant
meadows, covered with lowing herds, moving slowly
to the milkmaids, 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.

Hdward (that was the trayeller’s name) dropped on
one knee, and clasping his hands, exclaimed, “ Wel-
come, welcome, my dear, native land! — Many a swect
spot have I seen since I left thee, but none so swect
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, arose, and proceeded on his
journey.

As he descended into the plain, he overtook a little
group of children, merrily walking along the path,