Little can be told of Ellen's journey. In ten minutes after leaving Colonel Melville's she found herself on board a steamboat, surrounded by a crowd of strangers. Unaccustomed to such scenes, she was bewildered by the confusion and bustle around her, and clung to Mr. Wallace as if he had been a friend of long years, instead of an acquaintance of a day. But so kind and good was Mr. Wallace, so thoughtful of Ellen's comfort, so considerate of her feelings, and so indulgent to her wishes, that under any circumstances he could not long have seemed a stranger to her. Ellen had travelled very little, and she soon began to feel an interest in what was passing around her. Mr. Wallace exerted himself to amuse her, pointing out to her the places they passed, or describing those through which their route lay. Thus engaged, Ellen's griefs were forgotten till she retired to her berth for the night, and then the remembrance of the sister, without whose good-night kiss she had never before slept since she could remember, came so vividly upon her, that bursting into tears, she sobbed herself to sleep. She was awakened early the next morning by the chambermaid, who came, at the request of Mr. Wallace, to assist her in dressing. From her Ellen learned that they had arrived in New York. Here Mr. Wallace remained a day and a night, that he might show Ellen something of the largest city in which she had ever been, and give her one good night's rest before they set out on the most fatiguing part of their journey. The next day they went by a steamboat to Albany, and from thence travelled on the railroad or the canal for three or four days and nights, passing through several large towns, of which Ellen saw nothing except the one street that formed part of their road. It was four o'clock in the afternoon when they entered the village of G——, situated on a small but beautiful lake. There Mr. Wallace resided, and here was the church in which he preached. He took her to his own house and introduced her to his wife, a lady with manners as kind and countenance as pleasing as his own. She placed some raspberry jam with bread and butter, both of her own making, on the table, and while Ellen partook of it, Mr. Wallace had his own little carriage prepared, and having placed her baggage in it, called to her to take her seat beside him. They were soon on the way to Mrs. Herbert's farm, which, though also on the borders of the lake, was three miles distant from G——. Ellen did not talk much on the way, for she could think of no more questions to ask about her Aunt Herbert or her cousins, and she could not talk of any thing else. It was a lovely afternoon. Though still early in May, the season was unusually forward, and the air was soft and balmy as June. As they approached Mrs. Herbert's place, the road descended to the very edge of the lake. There was not a ripple on the water, and its smooth surface glittered like gold beneath the beams of the almost setting sun. Orchards and gardens were full of bloom, and the long low farmhouse, which was so surrounded with trees that you scarce saw it till you had reached the very door, looked like the abode of peace and gentleness. Two boys who were fishing in the lake from its bank, about fifty yards from the house, were the only persons in sight. When they first saw the carriage, they stood looking steadily at it for a few minutes, as if to ascertain whose it was, then dropping their fishing rods, ran towards the house.

"There they go to give notice of our coming. Poor Charley, George has left him far behind. How hard he tries to get up with his brother! Suppose we stop and take him up," said the good-natured Mr. Wallace, at the same time checking his horse and standing up in the carriage to beckon to Charles.

The tired boy gladly obeyed the summons, having only one narrow field and a fence between him and the road.

"There, Charley," said Mr. Wallace as he helped him up the side of the carriage and placed him by Ellen, "you have been the first to see cousin Ellen, if George has carried the news of her coming to mamma."

"Oh! cousin Ellen," said Charles, "how glad I am you have come, it will make mamma so happy!"

Ellen looked with surprise upon her cousin Charles, he was so much younger and more delicate than she had expected to see him. Mr. Wallace had said that the eldest of Mrs. Herbert's sons was thirteen years old, and Ellen had forgotten to ask the age of the other, but she had supposed him to be nearly if not quite twelve. He had said too that they were manly, and Ellen had concluded that they must be very large for their age, and very strong and robust. But Charles, though really ten years old, looked scarcely eight, he was so small, fair, and delicate, having always had very feeble health. Yet he was manly in his feelings, and so ambitious to equal his brother George's exploits, that he would do many things that some older and stronger-looking boys would not have attempted.

Ellen had just recovered her surprise, and decided that she liked Charles better as he was, with his light brown curls, his fair childish face, and bright laughing blue eyes, than she would have done if he had been a great, blustering boy, when the carriage stopped at the door of the house, where already stood George, flushed and panting with his race, and Mrs. Herbert. Ellen was never very slow in determining the feelings with which she would regard any one, and she often afterwards said, that she loved her Aunt Herbert as soon as she looked upon her. Few faces were so well calculated to produce such an impression as was Mrs. Herbert's. She was in deep mourning, and wore one of those close plain caps commonly called widow's caps, under which her brown hair, being parted in the middle of the forehead, was put smoothly back behind the ears. The upper part of her face was serious in its expression, but the mouth, if it did not actually smile always, looked so gentle and pleasant, that you thought it was going to smile. When Ellen first saw her, however, she was actually smiling, though tears were in her eyes, as again and again she pressed her niece to her heart, and kissing her tenderly, thanked her for coming to her, and called her her daughter Ellen.

"Cousin Ellen," said George, who looked just as Ellen had expected, tall, and stout, and sun-burned, "Cousin Ellen, we are very glad to see you."

"Not cousin Ellen—sister Ellen, my son; you are all my children now," said Mrs. Herbert, as again she folded Ellen in her arms.

"You must always live with us then," said Charles; "we shall not let you go away again."

Ellen, half bewildered among so many new claimants of her affection, had scarce spoken a word in reply to their greetings. She now looked around for Mr. Wallace. He saw the look, and understood it.

"Stay, stay, Charles, it takes two, you know, to make a bargain, and I have already promised that if Ellen wish it she shall go back in six months to her sister Mary—from whom, I assure you, it was no easy matter to get her away. So if you would keep her, you must make her love you so much in six months that she will not choose to leave you."

"So we will," said Charles, "so we will; and we'll bring sister Mary here too, mamma—won't we?"

"I hope so, my son; for Mary, too, I consider as my daughter, and would gladly have had her come now, if Mr. Villars had consented."

Ellen looked gratefully at her aunt, and began to doubt whether she ever should wish to leave her.

Ellen seemed so much fatigued after the first excitement of her arrival was over, that Mrs. Herbert had tea prepared immediately, and directly after it she led Ellen to her chamber. This was a small room opening into her own. It was furnished very plainly, as was indeed every room in Mrs. Herbert's house; but nothing could be more neat than its appearance, with its clean white window-curtains and coverlet. Mrs. Herbert assisted Ellen to undress herself, and when she was ready to lie down she kissed her tenderly, saying, "Good-night, my love: you will not forget before you sleep to thank our kind heavenly Father for bringing you in safety to us. We are early risers here, but I shall not wake you to-morrow, for you want rest."

Ellen lay down with very pleasant thoughts of her new home, but all thoughts were soon forgotten in a sound sleep.