"See the conquering hero comes,
Sound the trumpets, beat the drums!"

Is not this returning like a nabob, Roger? Hath not God blest thee
through the crock of gold at last, in spite of sin?

There, at the entrance by the mile-stone, stood Mary and the babes, with
a knot of friends around her, bright with happiness; on the top of it
was perched son Tom, waving the blue and silver flag of Hurstley, and
acting as fugleman to a crowd of uproarious cheerers; and beside it, on
the bank, sat Sarah Stack, overcome with joy, and sobbing like a
gladsome Niobe.

And the village bells went merrily; every cottage was gay with spring
garlands, and each familiar face lit up with looks of kindness; Hark!
hark!--"Welcome, honest Roger, welcome home again!" they shout: and the
patereroes on the lawn thunder a salute; "welcome, honest
neighbour;"--and up went, at bright noon, Tom Stableboy's dozen of
rockets wrapped around with streamers of glazed calico--"welcome,
welcome!"

Good Mr. Evans stood at the door of fine old Hurstley, in wig, and band,
and cassock, to receive back his wandering sheep that had been lost: and
the school-children, ranged upon the steps, thrillingly sang out the
beautiful chant, "I will arise, and go to my Father, and will say unto
Him, 'Father, I have sinned against Heaven and before Thee, and am no
more worthy to be called thy son!'"

Every head was uncovered, and every cheek ran down with tears.