Father! protect the wanderer on his way;
Bright be for him thy stars and calm thy seas—
Thanksgiving live upon his lips to-day,
And in his heart the good man's summer ease.
Almighty! Thou canst bring the pilgrim back,
With a clear brow to this his childish home;
Guide him, dear Father, o'er a blameless track,
No more to stray from us, no more to roam.
At this moment a tumult of children's voices was heard in the door-yard, and as the widow turned, young William Peabody was seen struggling with Robert and little Sam, who were holding him back with all their force. As he dragged them forward, being their elder and superior in strength, Peabody Junior stretched his throat and called towards the house—"I've seen him—I've seen him!"
"Who have you seen?" asked the widow, rising and approaching the door.
"Mr. Barbary." When Peabody Junior made this answer the widow advanced with a gleam on her countenance, and gently releasing him, said, "Come, William, and tell us all about it."
"Aunt Margaret," said Robert, thrusting himself between, "don't listen to a word he has to say. I'll tell you all about it. You see we were coming home from meeting, and little Sam got tired, and William and I made a cradle of our hands and were carrying him along very nice."
"Not so very nice, either," Peabody Junior interrupted, "for I was plaguy tired."
"That's what I was going to tell you, Aunt Margaret. Bill did get tired, and as we came through the Locust Wood, he made believe to see something, and run away to get clear of carrying little Sam any further."
"I did see him!" said Peabody Junior, firmly.
"Where was he?" the widow asked.