boughs completely overshadowed the roof,
stood Mr. Wood's dwelling,--a plain, substantial, commodious farm-house.
On a bench at the foot of the trees, with a pipe in his mouth, and a
tankard by his side, sat the worthy carpenter, looking the picture of
good-heartedness and benevolence. The progress of time was marked in Mr.
Wood by increased corpulence and decreased powers of vision,--by deeper
wrinkles and higher shoulders, by scantier breath and a fuller habit.
Still he looked hale and hearty, and the country life he led had
imparted a ruddier glow to his cheek. Around him were all the evidences
of plenty. A world of haystacks, bean-stacks, and straw-ricks flanked
the granges adjoining his habitation; the yard was crowded with poultry,
pigeons were feeding at his feet, cattle were being driven towards the
stall, horses led to the stable, a large mastiff was rattling his chain,
and stalking majestically in front of his kennel, while a number of
farming-men were passing and repassing about their various occupations.
At the back of the house, on a bank, rose an old-fashioned
terrace-garden, full of apple-trees and other fruit-trees in blossom,
and lively with the delicious verdure of early spring.

Hearing the approach of the rider, Mr. Wood turned to look at him. It
was now getting dusk, and he could only imperfectly distinguish the
features and figure of the stranger.

"I need not ask whether this is Mr. Wood's," said the latter, "since I
find him at his own gate."

"You are right, Sir," said the worthy carpenter, rising. "I am Owen
Wood, at your service."

"You do not remember me, I dare say," observed the stranger.

"I can't say I do," replied Wood. "Your voice seems familiar to
me--and--but I'm getting a little deaf--and my eyes don't serve me quite
so well as they used to do, especially by this light."

"Never mind," returned the stranger, dismounting; "you'll recollect me
by and by, I've no doubt. I bring you tidings of an old friend."

"Then you're heartily welcome, Sir, whoever you are. Pray, walk in.
Here, Jem, take the gentleman's horse to the stable--see him dressed and
fed directly. Now, Sir, will you please to follow me?"

Mr. Wood then led the way up a rather high and, according to modern
notions, incommodious flight of steps, and introduced his guest to a
neat parlour, the windows of which were darkened by pots of flowers and
creepers. There was no light in the room; but, notwithstanding this, th