inted.

He was revived promptly, and the wondering auditors gathered around
him, listening, while he spoke--the shaggy head, leaning on the
shoulder of Verty, who knelt at his feet, and looked up in his eyes
with joy and wonder.

Yes! there could be no earthly doubt that the strange words uttered by
the boy, were so many broken and yet brilliant memories shining from
the dim past: that this was his son--the original of the portrait. The
now harsh and sombre lawyer, when a young and happy man, had married
a French lady, and lived on the border; and his little son had, after
the French fashion, received, for middle name, his mother's name,
Anne--and this had become his pet designation. His likeness had been
painted by a wandering artist, and soon after, a band of Delawares had
attacked the homestead and carried him away to the wilderness, and
there had remained little doubt, in his father's mind, that the
child had been treated as the Indians were accustomed to treat such
captives--mercilessly slain. The picture of him was the only treasure
left to the poor broken heart, when heaven had taken his wife from
him, soon afterwards--and in the gloom and misanthropy these tortures
inflicted upon him, this alone had been his light and solace.
Retaining for the boy his old pet name of Anne, he had cried in
presence of the picture, and been hardened in spite of all, against
Providence. In the blind convulsions of his passionate regret, he had
even uttered blasphemy, and scouted anything like trust in God; and
here now was that merciful God leading his child back to him, and
pardoning all his sin of unbelief, and enmity, and hatred; and saying
to him, in words of marvellous sweetness and goodness, "Poor soured
spirit, henceforth worship and trust in me!"

Yes! his son Arthur, so long wept and mourned, had come to him
again--was there before him, kneeling at his feet!

And with his arms around the boy, the rugged man bent down and wept,
and uttered in his heart a prayer for pardon.

And we may be sure that the man's joy was not unshared by those
around--those kind, friendly eyes, which looked upon the father and
son, and rejoiced in their happiness. The very sunshine grew more
bright, it seemed; and when the picture was brought forth, and set
in his light, he shone full on it, and seemed to laugh and bless the
group with his kind light--even the little laughing child.

CHAPTER LXIX.

CONCLUSION.

Our chronicle is