horseman sighed heavily, and muttered to himself; then turning up the
road that led to the back entrance, he came into the court-yard, and
leading his horse into an empty stable, he proceeded on foot through the
dismantled premises, pausing with every moment, and holding a sad and
ever-changing commune with himself. An old woman, a stranger to him, was
the sole inmate of the house, and imagining he came to buy, or at least,
examine, she conducted him through the house, pointing out its
advantages, and lamenting its dilapidated state. Our traveller scarcely
heard her,--but when he came to one room which he would not enter till
the last, (it was the little parlour in which the once happy family had
been wont to sit,) he sank down in the chair that had been Lester's
honoured seat, and covering his face with his hands, did not move or look
up for several moments. The old woman gazed at him with surprise.--
"Perhaps, Sir, you knew the family, they were greatly beloved."

The traveller did not answer; but when he rose, he muttered to himself,--
"No, the experiment is made in vain! Never, never could I live here again
--it must be so--my forefathers' house must pass into a stranger's
hands." With this reflection he hurried from the house, and re-entering
the garden, turned through a little gate that swung half open on its
shattered hinges, and led into the green and quiet sanctuaries of the
dead. The same touching character of deep and undisturbed repose that
hallows the country church-yard,--and that more than most--yet brooded
there as when, years ago, it woke his young mind to reflection then
unmingled with regret.

He passed over the rude mounds of earth that covered the deceased poor,
and paused at a tomb of higher, though but of simple pretensions; it was
not yet discoloured by the dews and seasons, and the short inscription
traced upon it was strikingly legible, in comparison with those around.