“It is better for me not to arrive,” thought he, “until the family shall have returned from their daily labor, and are collected about the hearth.”

In the meantime, many an impression of profound and fervid piety came over him, when he reflected upon the incontrovertible proofs of providential protection and interference which had been, during his absence from home, under his struggles, and, in his good fortune, so clearly laid before him.  “Deep,” he exclaimed, “is the gratitude I owe to God for this; may I never forget to acknowledge it!”

It was now about seven o’clock; the evening was calm, and the sun shone with that clear amber light which gives warmth, and the power of exciting tenderness to natural scenery.  He had already gained the ascent which commanded a view of the rich sweep of country that reposed below.  There it lay—­his native home—­his native parish—­bathed in the light and glory of the hour.  Its fields were green—­its rivers shining like loosened silver; its meadows already studded with hay-cocks, its green pastures covered with sheep, and its unruffled lakes reflecting the hills under which they lay.  Here and there a gentleman’s residence rose among the distant trees, and well did he recognize the church spire that cut into the western sky on his right.  It is true, nothing of the grandeur and magnificence of nature was there; everything was simple in its beauty.  The quiet charm, the serene light, the air of happiness and peace that reposed upon all he saw, stirred up a thousand tender feelings in a heart whose gentle character resembled that of the prospect which it felt so exquisitely.  The smoke of a few farm-houses and cottages rose in blue, graceful columns to the air, giving just that appearance of life which was necessary; and a figure or two, with lengthened shadows, moved across the fields and meadows a little below where he stood.

But our readers need not to be told, that there was one spot which, beyond all others, riveted his attention.  On that spot his eager eye rested long and intensely.  The spell of its remembrance had clung to his early heart:  he had never seen it in his dreams without weeping; and often had the agitation of his imaginary sorrow awoke him with his eye-lashes steeped in tears.  He looked down on it steadily.  At length he was moved with a strong sensation like grief:  he sobbed twice or thrice, and the tears rolled in showers from his eyes.  His gathering affections were relieved by this:  he felt lighter, and in the same slow manner rode onward to his father’s house.

To this there were two modes of access:  one by a paved bridle-way, or boreen, that ran up directly before the door—­the other by a green lane, that diverged from the boreen about a furlong below the house.  He took the latter, certain that the family could not notice his approach, nor hear the noise of his horse’s footsteps, until he could arrive at the very threshold..  On dismounting, he felt that he could scarcely walk.  He approached the door, however, as steadily as he could.  He entered—­and the family, who had just finished their supper, rose up, as a mark of their respect to the stranger.