d the most, he would be doing his Master's
service most faithfully, more than in this quiet country-place of
peaceful households, but when he learned the peril and the sore distress
of his young friend, he tarried not a moment. 'To restore peace to one
injured mind,' he said; 'to bring back harmony to one household is a
clear and certain duty which will outweigh the vague chances of the good
I may do here.' The young man cherished but one wish; through storm and
trial and distress of every name and hue, if he could but reach home on
the day of Thanksgiving, and stand up there before his assembled kindred
a vindicated man, he would be requited fully for all his toil. He took
ship; in tempest, and with many risks of perishing far away
unvindicated, in the middle of the wild sea--"

The widowed mother could restrain herself no longer, but rushing
forward, she removed the young man's hat from his brow, parted his
locks, and casting herself upon his neck, gave utterance to her feelings
in the affecting language of Scripture, which she had listened to in the
morning: "My son was dead and is alive again--he was lost and is found!"

Miriam timidly grasped his offered hand and was silent. The company had
risen from the table and gathered around.

"Now," said William Peabody, "I could believe,--be glad to believe all
this, if he had but brought Mr. Barbary with him."

The elder stranger cast back his coat, removed his hat, and standing
forth, said, "I am here, and testify to the truth, in every word, of all
my young friend has declared to you."

On this declaration the Peabodys, without an exception, hastened to
welcome and address the returned Elbridge, and closed upon him in a
solid group of affectionate acknowledgment. Old Sylvester stood looking
loftily down over all from the outer edge of the circle, and while they
were busiest in congratulations and well-wishes, he went forward.

"Stand back!" cried the old man, waving the company aside with outspread
arms, and advancing with extended hand toward his grandson. "I have an
atonement to render here, which I call you all to witness."

"I take your hand, grandfather," Elbridge interposed, "but not in
acknowledgment of any wrong on your part. You have lived an hundred
blameless years, and I am not the one this day to breathe a reproach for
the first time on your spotless age."

Tears filled the old patriarch's eyes, and with a gentle hand he led his
grandson silently to t