the Volga; but they are now linked to fairer and more
gracious stories; and the free Russian farmers (no longer serfs) are
never tired of relating incidents of the beauty, the courage, the
benevolence, and the saintly piety of the Good Lady of Kinesma.

TALES OF HOME.

THE STRANGE FRIEND.

It would have required an intimate familiarity with the habitual
demeanor of the people of Londongrove to detect in them an access of
interest (we dare not say excitement), of whatever kind. Expression with
them was pitched to so low a key that its changes might be compared to
the slight variations in the drabs and grays in which they were clothed.
Yet that there was a moderate, decorously subdued curiosity present in
the minds of many of them on one of the First-days of the Ninth-month,
in the year 1815, was as clearly apparent to a resident of the
neighborhood as are the indications of a fire or a riot to the member of
a city mob.

The agitations of the war which had so recently come to an end had
hardly touched this quiet and peaceful community. They had stoutly
"borne their testimony," and faced the question where it could not be
evaded; and although the dashing Philadelphia militia had been stationed
at Camp Bloomfield, within four miles of them, the previous year, these
good people simply ignored the fact. If their sons ever listened to the
trumpets at a distance, or stole nearer to have a peep at the uniforms,
no report of what they had seen or heard was likely to be made at home.
Peace brought to them a relief, like the awakening from an uncomfortable
dream: their lives at once reverted to the calm which they had breathed
for thirty years preceding the national disturbance. In their ways they
had not materially changed for a hundred years. The surplus produce of
their farms more than sufficed for the very few needs which those farms
did not supply, and they seldom touched the world outside of their sect
except in matters of business. They were satisfied with themselves and
with their lot; they lived to a ripe and beautiful age, rarely "borrowed
trouble," and were patient to endure that which came in the fixed course
of things. If the spirit of curiosity, the yearning for an active,
joyous grasp of life, sometimes pierced through this placid temper,
and stirred the blood of the adolescent members, they were persuaded
by grave voices, of almost prophetic authority, to turn their hearts
towards "the Stillness