o the room where her mother
and Esther were sitting. With a cry of joy Mrs. Ellis caught him in her
arms, and, before he was aware of their presence, he found himself half
smothered by her and Esther.

They had never been separated before his trip to Warmouth; and their
reunion, under such circumstances, was particularly affecting. None of them
could speak for a few moments, and Charlie clung round his mother's neck as
though he would never loose his hold. "Mother, mother!" was all he could
utter; yet in that word was comprised a world of joy and affection.

Esther soon came in for her share of caresses; then Charlie inquired,
"Where's father?"

"In here," said Mrs. Ellis, leading the way to an adjoining room. "I don't
think he will know you--perhaps he may."

In one corner of the apartment, propped up in a large easy chair by a
number of pillows, sat poor Mr. Ellis, gazing vacantly about the room and
muttering to himself. His hair had grown quite white, and his form was
emaciated in the extreme; there was a broad scar across his forehead, and
his dull, lustreless eyes were deeply sunken in his head. He took no notice
of them as they approached, but continued muttering and looking at his
hands.

Charlie was almost petrified at the change wrought in his father. A few
months before he had left him in the prime of healthful manhood; now he was
bent and spectrelike, and old in appearance as if the frosts of eighty
winters had suddenly fallen on him. Mrs. Ellis laid her hand gently upon
his shoulder, and said, "Husband, here's Charlie." He made no reply, but
continued muttering and examining his mutilated hands. "It's Charlie," she
repeated.

"Oh, ay! nice little boy!" he replied, vacantly; "whose son is he?"

Mrs. Ellis's voice quivered as she reiterated, "It's Charlie--our
Charlie!--don't you know him?"

"Oh, yes! nice little boy--nice little boy. Oh!" he continued, in a
suppressed and hurried tone, as a look of alarm crossed his face; "run home
quick, little boy! and tell your mother they're coming, thousands of them;
they've guns, and swords, and clubs. Hush! There they come--there they
come!" And he buried his face in the shawl, and trembled in an agony of
fright.

"Oh, mother, this is dreadful!" exclaimed Charlie. "Don't he know any of
you?"

"Yes; sometimes his mind comes back--very seldom, though--only for a very
little while. Come away: talking to him sometimes makes him worse." And
slowly and sorrowful