CHAPTER I. THE RETURN HOME. My readers who accompanied me in the narration of some of my past adventures will, perhaps, not have forgotten that they left me in solitary silence, and excluded from the light of day-shut up, in fact, in the prison-house of a strong chest, in which I had been conveyed from the abode of my late I now pass on to the day of my release. owner. I found myself, then, in a large and barely furnished room, amidst a variety of miscellaneous property, consisting of books, clothing, and numerous articles, which had been heaped into our common prison from closets and drawers, or from dressing-tables and study-tables. Other chests and boxes, already emptied of their contents, were strewed around; while seated on them, or standing by and looking on with interest and curiosity, were several persons, the nearest surviving relatives of my former possessor-Henry Greene. I was once more in the land which, speaking after the manner of men as regarded my material substance, might be termed my birth-place. From the conversation which ensued, it was evident that the persons present had inherited the wealth left behind him by my former owner, and they had met to divide among them the miscellaneous articles which had been now returned of his personal effects. It seemed that the accession of wealth which had unexpectedly fallen to those persons had already been the cause of some ill-will and strife; and several were deeply chagrined when they found how little of value remained to be divided. By the majority of the persons present I was looked upon with indifference, and eventually I was thrown in as a make-weight to one portion of the divided property. My new owner was a man of more than middle age, and of a stern, dissatisfied countenance: a chilled and chilling atmosphere seemed to hang around him. His name was the same with that of my late possessor, though the relationship he claimed was distant. He was a tradesman in a large town; and his habitation denoted a tolerable degree of worldly comfort, or rather of the means of worldly comfort, if not of affluence. As I remained for several days unnoticed on the shelf where I had first been placed, there was abundant time and opportunity for silent observation of the character of my new owner and his house hold: and-shall I say to my surprise?—I found that he was at least outwardly religious. On the first morning after my introduction into this new family, and when they were assembled for the morning meal, my owner reached from its resting-place an apparently well-worn counterpart of myself, and commenced reading a portion of its contents. This was well, and a pleasant sign that I myself should not long remain disregarded in that family, but that a new career of usefulness was being opened before me. It is true, marks of languor and indifference and inattention might have been detected in the countenances of those by whom the reader was surrounded; but the charity which "hopeth all things" and "thinketh no evil" would have been slow to discern this; or, discerning it, might have attributed those symptoms of carelessness or fatigue other cause than alienation from the words to any of eternal life. With much outward decorum, my owner, having closed the volume, knelt and read a prayer, concluding with the Lord's prayer. Thus, for the first time since I left the service of my first possessor, was I permitted to witness a scene of family worship. But the cheering anticipation which this outward manifestation of regard to my Great Master's precepts was calculated to produce, were abl by the stern and angry tones in which the 4 |