g, was brilliant, and the cloudless
expanse of heaven seemed to reflect her light, whilst, at the same time,
the shadows that projected from the trees, houses, and other elevated
objects, were dark and distinct in proportion to the flood of mild
effulgence which poured down upon them from the firmament. Let not
our readers hesitate to believe us when we say, that the heart of the
stranger felt touched with a kind of melancholy happiness as he passed
through their very shadows--proceeding, as they did, from objects that
he had looked upon as the friends of his youth, before life had opened
to him the dark and blotted pages of suffering and sorrow. There, dimly
shining to the right below him, was the transparent river in which he
had taken many a truant plunge, and a little further on he could see
without difficulty the white cascade tumbling down the precipice, and
mark its dim scintillations, that looked, under the light of the
moon, like masses of shivered ice, were it not that such a notion was
contradicted by the soft dash and continuous murmur of its waters.

But where was the gray mill, and the large white dwelling of the miller?
and that new-looking mansion on the elevation--it was not there in
his time, nor several others that he saw around him; and, hold--what
sacrilege is this? The coach is not upon the old road--not on that with
every turn and winding of which the light foot of his boyhood was
so familiar! What, too! the school-house down--its very foundations
razed--its light-hearted pupils, some dead, others dispersed, its master
in the dust, and its din, bustle, and monotonous murmur--all banished
and gone, like the pageantry of a dream. Such, however, is life; and
he who, on returning to his birthplace after an absence of many years,
expects to find either the country or its inhabitants as he left
them, will experience, in its most painful sense, the bitterness of
disappointment. Let every such individual prepare himself for the
consequences of death, change, and desolation.

At length the coach drove into Ballytrain, and, in a few minutes, the
passengers found themselves opposite to the sign of the Mitre, which
swung over the door of the principal inn of that remarkable town.

"Sir," said the guard, addressing the stranger, "I think I have kept my
word."

The latter, without making any reply, dropped five shillings into his
hand; but, in the course of a few minutes--for the coach changed horses
there-