f sickness or death, as was evident by
the melancholy steadiness of the lights, or the slow, cautious motion by
which they glided from one apartment to another.

The moon had now been for some time up, and the coach had just crossed a
bridge that was known to be exactly sixteen miles from the town of which
the stranger had made inquiries.

"I think," said the latter, addressing the guard, "we are about sixteen
miles from Ballytrain."

"You appear to know the neighborhood, sir," replied the guard.

"I have asked you a question, sir," replied the other, somewhat
sternly, "and, instead of answering it, you ask me another."

"I beg your pardon, sir," replied the guard, smiling, "it's the
custom of the country. Yes, sir, we're exactly sixteen miles from
Ballytrain--that bridge is the mark. It's a fine country, sir, from this
to that--"

"Now, my good fellow," replied the stranger, "I ask it as a particular
favor that you will not open your lips to me until we reach the town,
unless I ask you a question. On that condition I will give you a
half-a-crown when we get there."

The fellow put his hand to his lips, to hint that he was mute, and
nodded, but spoke not a word, and the coach proceeded in silence.

To those who have a temperament fraught with poetry or feeling, there
can be little doubt that to pass, of a calm, delightful spring night,
under a clear, starry sky, and a bright moon, through a country
eminently picturesque and beautiful, must be one of those enjoyments
which fill the heart with a memory that lasts forever. But when we
suppose that a person, whose soul is tenderly alive to the influence of
local affections, and, who, when absent, has brooded in sorrow over the
memory of his native hills and valleys, his lakes and mountains--the
rivers, where he hunted the otter and snared the trout, and who has
never revisited them, even in his dreams, without such strong emotions
as caused him to wake with his eyelashes steeped in tears--when such a
person, full of enthusiastic affection and a strong imagination,
returns to his native place after a long absence, under the peculiar
circumstances which we are describing, we need not feel surprised that
the heart of the stranger was filled with such a conflicting tumult of
feelings and recollections as it is utterly impossible to portray.

From the moment the coach passed the bridge we have alluded to, every
hill, and residence, and river, and lake, and meadow, was