Home again! home again!
From a foreign shore!
And oh, it fills my heart with joy
To greet my friends once more.

Music sweet! music soft!
Lingers round the place;
And oh, I feel the childhood's charm,
That time cannot efface!
—M. S. Pike.

It had been decided in consultation between Judge Merlin and Ishmael that, under existing circumstances, it would be proper for their party to shorten their visit to Cameron Court, and leave the recently reconciled pair to the enjoyment of their own exclusive company.

And accordingly, while they were all seated at luncheon the next day, Wednesday, Judge Merlin announced their departure for Thursday morning.

This announcement was met by a storm of hospitable expostulation. Both the countess and Mr. Brudenell strongly objected to the early departure of their visitors, and urged their prolonged stay.

But, to all this friendly solicitation, the judge replied:

"My dear countess, painful as it will be for us all to leave Cameron Court, there are imperative reasons for our doing so. It is not only that we have engaged our passages on the steamer that sails on the 15th of this month of February, but that unless we really do sail on that day, we shall not have sufficient time to cross the ocean and get into port before the stormy month of March sets in."

"But this is only Wednesday. The 'Columbus' does not sail until Saturday after next. You might stay with us a week longer, and then have abundant time to run down to Liverpool and get comfortably embarked," said the countess.

"Thank you, dear lady; but the truth is, I wish to show my daughter
London before we sail," replied the judge.

"The truth is," said the countess, smiling, "that you are all weary of Cameron Court. Well, so I will no longer oppose your departure. Very early in life I learned the twofold duty of hospitality: 'to greet the coming, speed the parting guest.'"

"Lady Hurstmonceux, we are not weary of Cameron Court. On the contrary we are attached to it, warmly attached to it; we have been happier here than we could have been anywhere else, while under our adverse circumstances. And we shall take leave of you, madam, with the deepest regret—regret only to be softened by the hope of seeing you some time in America," said the judge gravely.

The countess bowed and smiled, but did not in any other manner reply.

"Oh, Berenice; dear Berenice! You will come out to see us, some time, will you not?" urged Claudia.

The countess looked toward her husband with that proud, fond deference which loving wives glory in bestowing, and she said:

"When Mr. Brudenell visits his mother and sisters I shall of course accompany him, and we shall spend a portion of our time at Tanglewood, if you will permit us."

"Berenice, Berenice; what words you use! We know how happy we should be to see you," said Claudia.

"And how honored," said the judge.

Lady Hurstmonceux smiled on Claudia and bowed to the judge. And then the circle arose from the luncheon table and dispersed.

That day Ishmael wrote to Bee, announcing the speedy return of himself and his party, and Judge Merlin wrote to his manager, Reuben Gray, to have the house at Tanglewood prepared for the reception of himself and daughter on or before the 1st of March.

Early on Thursday morning our party took a most affectionate leave of their friends at Cameron Court, and set out in one of the countess' carriages for the railway station at Edinboro', which they reached in time to catch the ten o'clock express for London.

A twelve hours' flight southward brought them into that city. It was ten o'clock, therefore, when they ran into the King's Cross Station. There they took a fly to Morley's Hotel, in the Strand, where they arrived about eleven o'clock. They engaged a suite of apartments, and settled themselves there for a week. A very brief epitome must describe their life in London during that short period.

It was Thursday night when they arrived.

On Friday morning they visited the Tower, taking the whole day for the study of that ancient fortress and its awful traditions; and in the evening they went to Drury Lane, to see Kean in "Macbeth."

On Saturday morning they went to Westminster Abbey, and in the evening to Covent Garden.

On Sunday they attended divine service at St. Paul's, morning and afternoon, and they spent the evening at home.

On Monday they visited the two Houses of Parliament, and in the evening they wed to the Polytechnic.

On Tuesday they went over the old prison of Newgate, and in the evening they heard a celebrated philanthropist lecture at Exeter Hall.

On Wednesday they went down to Windsor and went over Windsor Castle, park, and forest, and they spent the evening looking over the illustrated guidebooks that described these places.

On Thursday morning they returned to London, and employed the day in shopping and other preparations for their homeward voyage; and Ishmael, among his more important purchases, did not forget the dolls for little Molly, nor the box of miniature carpenter's tools for Johnny. They passed this last evening of their stay quietly at home.

On Friday morning they left London for Liverpool, where they arrived at nightfall. They put up at the "Adelphi," the hotel favored by all American travelers, and where they found all their national tastes gratified.

Early on Saturday morning they embarked on their homeward-bound steamer and sailed from England. They were blessed with one of the most favorable voyages on record; the wind was fair, the sky was blue, and the sea smooth from the beginning to the end of their voyage, and on the evening of the tenth day out they ran safely into the harbor of New York. This was Thursday, the 25th of February.

The evening mail for the South had not yet gone; and, while waiting in the office of the Custom House, Ishmael wrote to Bee, announcing the safe arrival of his party; and the judge dashed off a few lines to Reuben Gray, warning him to have all things ready to receive the returning voyagers.

Only one night they rested in the city, and then on Friday morning they left New York, taking the shortest route to Tanglewood—namely, by railroad as far as Baltimore, and then by steamboat to Shelton, on the Potomac.

Our whole party landed at Shelton on Saturday evening. The judge dispatched a messenger on horseback from the little hotel to Tanglewood, to order Reuben Gray to have the fires kindled and supper ready against their arrival, and then, after some little search,—for the hamlet boasted few hackney coaches,—they found a carriage for the judge and his companions and a wagon for the servants and the luggage. It was nine o'clock when they reached Tanglewood.

Hannah and Reuben were standing out under the starlight, listening for the sound of wheels, and they ran forward to greet them as they alighted from the carriage.

"Oh, welcome; welcome home, sir! Thank God, I receive you safe again!" exclaimed Reuben Gray, as he grasped the judge's extended hand and wept for joy.

"Thank you, thank you, Gray. I'm happy to be home once more."

"Oh, my boy; my boy! Do I see you again? Do I really see you again? Thank Heaven; oh, thank Heaven!" cried Hannah, bursting into a passion of tears, as she threw her arms around Ishmael's neck and was pressed to his affectionate heart.

"God bless you, dear Aunt Hannah! I am very glad to come to you again? How are the little ones?"

"Oh, as well as possible, dear."

"Speak to Lady Vincent," whispered Ishmael.

"Madam, I am very glad to see you home once more, but sorry to see you in such deep mourning," said Hannah respectfully.

Judge Merlin then hurried the whole party out of the biting winter air into the house. Here they found all ready for them; the fires kindled, the rooms warmed, the tables set in the comfortable parlor, and the supper ready to be dished. They took time only to make a very slight toilet in their well-warmed chambers, and then they went down to supper. The judge insisted that Hannah and Reuben should join them on this occasion and remain their guests for the evening. And what a happy evening it was. After all their weary wanderings, perils and sorrows in foreign lands, how delightful to be at home once more in their dear native country, gathered together under one beloved roof, and lovingly served by their own affectionate domestics. Ah! one must lose all these blessings for a while, in order to truly to enjoy them.

How earnest was the thanksgiving in the grace uttered by the judge as they all gathered around the supper table! How earnest was the amen silently responded by each heart!

After supper they all went into the well warmed and lighted crimson drawing room. And Claudia sat down before her grand piano, and tried its keys. From long disuse it was somewhat out of tune, certainly; but her fingers evoked from those keys a beautiful prelude, and her voice rose in that simple, but soul-stirring little ballad, "Home Again."

As she sang Ishmael came up behind her, turned the leaves of her music book, and accompanied her in his rich bass voice. At the end of that one song she arose and closed her piano.

"Thank you, my dear," said the judge, drawing his daughter to him and kissing her cheek. "Your song was very appropriate; there is not one here who could not enter into its sentiment with all his heart."

Slowly and sadly Claudia bowed her head; and then she passed on to one of the side tables, took up a lighted bedroom candle, bade them all good-night and retired.

Reuben and Hannah, who on this occasion, at Judge Merlin's request, had remained in the drawing room, now arose and took a respectful leave. And soon after this, Ishmael and the judge separated and retired to their respective chambers.

Ishmael was shown into that one which he had occupied during that eventful first sojourn at Tanglewood. How full of the most interesting associations, the most tender memories, that chamber was. There was the bed upon which he had lain for weeks, a mangled sufferer for Claudia's sake. There was the very same armchair she had sat in hour after hour by his side, beguiling the tedious days of convalescence by talking with him, reading to him, or singing and playing to him on her guitar. Sigh after sigh burst from Ishmael's bosom as he remembered these times. He went to bed, but could not sleep; he lay awake, meditating and praying.

While Ishmael in his lonely chamber prayed, another scene was going on in another part of the house.

Old Katie was holding a reception in the kitchen. All the house servants, all the field laborers, and all the neighboring negroes— bond and free, male and female—were assembled at Tanglewood that night to welcome Katie and her companions home and hear their wondrous adventures in foreign lands.

Katie, in the most gorgeous dress of Scotch plaid, that displayed the most brilliant tints of scarlet, blue and yellow, purple, orange, and green, with a snow-white turban on her head and a snow- white kerchief around her neck, with broad gold ear-rings in her ears and thick gold finger-rings on her fingers—sat in the seat of honor, the chip-bottom armchair, and, for the benefit of the natives, delivered a lecture on the manners and customs of foreign nations, illustrated by her own experiences among them.

Now, if Katie had only related the plain facts of her life in Scotland and in the West India Islands, they had been sufficiently interesting to her simple hearers, but Katie exaggerated her adventures, wrongs, and sufferings beyond all hope of pardon.

"I seen the Queen," she said. "She rode about in a silver coach drawed by a hundred milk-white hosses, wid a golden, crown on her head a yard and a half high, and more niggers to wait on her, chillun, dan you could shake sticks at."

The least of her fictions was this:

"Chillun, I was fust kilt dead, den buried alibe, and kept so till wanted; den fotch to life ag'in, and sold to pirates, and took off to de Stingy Isles, and sold ag'in into slabery; arter which Marster Ishmael Worf drapped right down out'n de clear sky inter de middle ob de street, and if you don't beliebe it jes go ax Marse Ishmael hisse'f, as nebber told a falsehood in his life."

"And so he brought you away, Katie?" inquired Reuben's Sam, who was, of course, present.

"Well, I jes reckon he did some! He made dem Stingy Island barbariums stan' roun' now, I tell you, chillun."

Katie went on with her lecture. Her version of the fate of Lord
Vincent, Mrs. Dugald, and Frisbie was rather a free one.

"I walked myse'f right 'traight up to de Queen soon as ebber I totched English ground, and told her all about dem gran' willians, and de Queen ordered de execution ob de whole lot. Which dey was all hung up by de neck till dey was dead de berry next mornin'," she said.

"What, all hung so quick, Katie!" exclaimed Sam, in astonishment.

"All hung; ebery single one ob dem. My lordship and de ehamwally and de whited saltpeter. All hung up by de neck till dey was dead, in de middle ob de street, right in de sight ob ebberybody going along, and serbe 'em right and hopes it did 'em good," said Katie emphatically.

"That was quick work, though," said Sam dubiously.

"Quick work? Dey deserbed it quick, and quicker dan dat. Hi, boy, what you talkin' 'bout? Didn't dey kill me dead, and bury me alibe, amd sell me inter slabery? You'spect how de Queen gwine let sich going on go on while she's de mis'tess ob England? No,'deed; not arter she see all dey made me suffer," exploded Katie.

"'Deed, Aunt Katie, you did see heep o' trouble, didn't you?" said one of her amazed hearers.

"Yes; but, you see, Aunt Katie wanted to see de worl'! "Member how she used to tell us how she wasn't a tree as couldn't be transplanted, and how she was a libin' soul, and a p'og'essive sperrit, and how she wanted to see somefin' ob dis worl' she libbed in afore she parted hence and beed no more," said another.

"Well, I reckon you has seed 'nough ob de worl' now. Hasn't you,
Aunt Katie?" inquired a third.

"Well, I jes reckon I has, chillun. I nebber wants to see no more ob dis worl' long as ebber I libs on dis yeth, dere. I be satisfied to settle down here at Tanglewood for de 'mainder ob my mortal days, and thank my 'Vine Marster down on my knees as I has got here safe," said Katie.

"If I was you, Aunt Katie, I'd publish my travels," said Sam.

"I gwine to, honey, 'deed is I. I gwine to publish um good, too. I gwine to get my extinguish friend, de professor dere, to write um all down fur me; and I gwine to publish um good. And now, Sam, chile, as de kettle is b'iling, I wish you jes' make de hot punch, 'cause I'se dead tired, and arter I drinks it I wants to go to bed."

And when the punch was made and served around, this circle also separated for the night.

The next morning, before breakfast, Ishmael walked through the forest to Woodside to see the little children of whom he was so fond. They were already up and waiting for him at the gate. On seeing him they rushed out to meet him with acclamations of joy, and laid hold of his overcoat and began to pull him towards the house.

Ishmael smiled on them, and talked to them, and would have taken them up in his arms, but that his arms were already full, for under one was Molly's family of dolls and under the other Johnny's box of tools. Smilingly he suffered them to pull him into the house, and push him into the arm-chair, and climb up on his knees and seize and search his parcels.

Molly knew her parcel by the feet of the dolls protruding through the end of the paper, and she quickly laid hands on it, sat down flat on the floor and tore it to pieces, revealing to her delighted eyes:

"Dolls, and more dolls, and so many dolls!" as she ecstatically expressed it. Then in the midst of her bliss, she suddenly remembered her benefactor, dropped all her treasures, jumped into his lap, threw her arms around his neck, and said:

"Oh, Cousin Ishmael, what pretty dolls! I will pray to the Lord to give you a great many things for giving me theses."

Ishmael kissed her very gravely and said:

"Pray to the lord to give me wisdom, Molly, for that is the best of all gifts, and I would rather a child should ask it for me than a bishop should."

And he sat Molly down again to enjoy her treasures.

Meanwhile Johnny had torn open his box of miniature carpenter's tools and run out to try their edges on the fences and out-houses; and all without one word of thanks to the donor. Boys, you know, are about as grateful as pigs, who devour the acorns without ever once looking up to see whence they come.

At the moment that Ishmael sat Molly down upon the floor, Hannah came in from a back room, where she had been at work.

On seeing the dolls she lifted both her hands and cried out:

"Oh, Ishmael, Ishmael, what extravagance!"

"Not at all, aunt. Look at little Molly! See how much happiness has been purchased at a trifling outlay, and talk no more of extravagance," said Ishmael, rising and taking his hat.

"Where are you going now? You have not been here a minute," said
Hannah.

"Pardon me, I have been here half an hour, and now I must go back to
Tanglewood, because they will wait breakfast for me there."

"Well, I declare!" wrathfully began Hannah, but Ishmael gently interrupted her:

"I have bought a fine Scotch tartan shawl for you, Aunt Hannah, and a heavy shepherd's maud for Uncle Reuben. They are such articles as you cannot purchase in this country. I will send them to you by one of the servants. I would have brought them myself, only you see my arms were full."

"Well, I should think so. Thank you, Ishmael! Thank you very much indeed. But when are you coming here to stop a bit?"

"Just as soon as I can, Aunt Hannah. This morning I must go to The
Beacon. You may well suppose how anxious I am to be there."

"Humph! I thought now Mrs. Lord Vincent was a widder, all that was over."

"Aunt Hannah, what do you take me for?" exclaimed the young man, in sorrowful astonishment.

"Well, Ishmael, I didn't mean to insult you, so you needn't bite my head off," snapped Mrs. Gray.

"Good-by, Aunt Hannah," said Ishmael, stooping and kissing her cheek.

He hurried away and walked briskly through the woods and reached the house in good time for breakfast; and a happy breakfast it was, but for one sad face there. The old man was so delighted to be home again, under his own forest-shaded roof, seated at his own table, attended by his own affectionate servants, that it seemed as though the years had rolled back in their course and restored to him all the freshness of his youth.

After breakfast Ishmael arose and announced his departure for The
Beacon, and requested of the judge the loan of two saddle horses.

"Ishmael, you have refused all compensation beyond your traveling expenses for your services; and I know, indeed, they were of a nature that money could not repay. Yet I do wish to make you some more substantial acknowledgment than empty words of my indebtedness to you. Now there is my Arabian courser, Mahomet. He is a gift worthy of even your acceptance, Ishmael. He has not his equal in America. I refused three thousand dollars for him before I went to Europe. I will not lend him to you, Ishmael! I will beg your acceptance of him—there, now don't refuse! I shall never use him again, and Claudia cannot, for he is not a lady's horse, you know."

"I shall never ride again," here put in Claudia, in a sorrowful voice.

Ishmael started and turned towards her; but she had arisen from the table and withdrawn to the window-seat.

Judge Merlin continued to press his gift upon the young man. But though Ishmael had almost a passion for fine horses, he hesitated to accept this munificent present until he saw that his refusal would give the judge great pain. Then, with sincere expressions of gratitude, he frankly accepted it.

The judge rang a bell and ordered Mahomet saddled and brought around for Mr. Worth, and a groom's horse for his servant.

Ishmael put on his riding-coat and took his hat and gloves. When the horses were announced, Ishmael went and shook hands with his host.

"God bless you, Ishmael; God bless you, my dear boy, for all that you have done for me and for mine! Yea, God bless you, and speed the time when you shall be nearer to me than at present," said the judge, pressing both Ishmael's hands before be dropped them.

Ishmael then crossed the room to take leave of Claudia. She was sitting in the armchair, within the recess of the bay window; her elbow rested on a little stand at her side, and her head was bowed upon her hand; this was her usual attitude now.

"Farewell, Lady Vincent," said Ishmael, in a grave, sweet voice, as he stood before her. She raised her head and looked at him. Oh, what a world of grief, despair, and passionate remorse was expressed in those large, dark, tearless eyes!

"Farewell, Lady Vincent," said Ishmael, deferentially taking her hand.

Her fingers closed spasmodically upon his, as though she would have held him to her side forever.

"Oh, must it be indeed farewell, Ishmael?" she breathed in a voice expiring with anguish.

"Farewell," he repeated gravely, kindly, reverentially; bowing low over the throbbing hand he held; and then he turned and softly left the room.

"It is his sense of honor. Oh, it is his chivalric, nay, his fanatical sense of honor that is ruining us! Unless Bee has the good taste and modesty to release him voluntarily, he will sacrifice me, himself, and her, to the Moloch, Honor," wailed Claudia, as she dropped her head upon her hands in a grief too deep for tears.

Was she right?