hat
name? Don't you know that it is one of my temptations; you wish to know
something about him. Well, I will oblige you this once, and then
farewell to such vanities--something about him. I will tell you--his
skin when he flung off his clothes--and he had a particular knack in
doing so--his skin, when he bared his mighty chest and back for combat,
and when he fought he stood, so--if I remember right--his skin, I say,
was brown and dusky as that of a toad. Oh me! I wish my elder son was
here."

CHAPTER XXVIII.

My Brother's Arrival--The Interview--Night--A Dying Father--Christ.

At last my brother arrived; he looked pale and unwell; I met him at the
door. "You have been long absent!" said I.

"Yes," said he, "perhaps too long; but how is my father?"

"Very poorly," said I, "he has had a fresh attack; but where have you
been of late?"

"Far and wide," said my brother; "but I can't tell you anything now, I
must go to my father. It was only by chance that I heard of his
illness."

"Stay a moment," said I. "Is the world such a fine place as you supposed
it to be before you went away?"

"Not quite," said my brother, "not quite; indeed I wish--but ask me no
questions now, I must hasten to my father."

There was another question on my tongue, but I forbore; for the eyes of
the young man were full of tears. I pointed with my finger, and the
young man hastened past me to the arms of his father.

I forbore to ask my brother whether he had been to old Rome.

What passed between my father and brother I do not know; the interview,
no doubt, was tender enough, for they tenderly loved each other; but my
brother's arrival did not produce the beneficial effect upon my father
which I at first hoped it would; it did not even appear to have raised
his spirits. He was composed enough, however: "I ought to be grateful,"
said he; "I wished to see my son, and God has granted me my wish; what
more have I to do now than to bless my little family and go?"

My father's end was evidently at hand.

And did I shed no tears? did I breathe no sighs? did I never wring my
hands at this period? the reader will perhaps be asking. Whatever I did
and thought is best known to God and myself; but it will be as well to
observe, that it is possible to feel deeply, and yet make no outward
sign.

And now for the closing scene.

At the dead hour of night, it might be about two, I was awakened from
sleep by a cry which sounded