gentleman had sailed for America some months previously. The ship
is making a capital freight, and the captain informs him that
application has been made for the only vacant state-room in their little
cabin by a lady attended by her maid. Reuben assents cheerfully to this
accession of companionship; and, running off for a sight of the ruins at
Nismes and Arles, returns only in time to catch the ship upon the day of
its departure. As they pass out of harbor, the lady passenger, in deep
black, (the face seems half familiar to him,) watches wistfully the
receding shores, and, as they run abreast the chapel of Notre Dame de la
Garde, she devoutly crosses herself and tells her beads.

Reuben is to make the voyage with the mother of Adele. Both bound to the
same quiet township of New England; he, to reach Ashfield once more,
there to undergo swiftly a new experience,--an experience that can come
to no man but once; she, to be clasped in the arms of Adele,--a cold
embrace and the last!

PASSAGES FROM HAWTHORNE'S NOTE-BOOKS.

V.

Brook Farm, _Sept. 26, 1841._--A walk this morning along the Needham
road. A clear, breezy morning, after nearly a week of cloudy and showery
weather. The grass is much more fresh and vivid than it was last month,
and trees still retain much of their verdure, though here and there is a
shrub or a bough arrayed in scarlet and gold. Along the road, in the
midst of a beaten track, I saw mushrooms or toadstools, which had sprung
up probably during the night.

The houses in this vicinity are, many of them, quite antique, with long,
sloping roofs, commencing at a few feet from the ground, and ending in a
lofty peak. Some of them have huge, old elms overshadowing the yard. One
may see the family sleigh near the door, it having stood there all
through the summer sunshine, and perhaps with weeds sprouting through
the crevices of its bottom, the growth of the months since snow
departed. Old barns, patched and supported by timbers leaning against
the sides, and stained with the excrement of past ages.

In the forenoon, I walked along the edge of the meadow, towards Cow
Island. Large trees, almost a wood, principally of pine with the green
pasture-glades intermixed, and cattle feeding. They cease grazing when
an intruder appears, and look at him with long and wary observation,
then bend their heads to the pasture again. Where the firm ground of the
pasture ceases, the meadow begins,--loose, spongy,