Seeking out one of the few old neighbors who were left, on the morning after our arrival, I was met with the surprised and joyful exclamation,
"Why, my dear Mrs. J——! can it be possible that this is your own self? I had no hopes of ever seeing you again in this world."
"It is indeed myself," I replied. "We have long been wanderers by 'field and flood;' but have at length returned to remain a short time among the scenes of other years. If you are at leisure, I want to settle down into my own cosy corner of the dear old sitting-room, just as if I had never been away, and ask you as many questions about village affairs and those of the olden time as you will want to answer."
"You could not furnish me with a greater pleasure, I assure you! But O my friend! what changes have taken place since you left! Very few of those who were with us then still remain. Many have died, some have gone 'West,' and some have found their way to San Francisco and other parts of California."
"Where are the W——s?" I inquired.
"They removed to another place some years ago, and their family is widely scattered; but they remain united in spirit, and steadfast in the faith."
"And the S——s?"
"Only three of them are living. One has gone to the far West, and the others have left this place. Little Kitty, after years of patient suffering, during which she never ceased to thank God for having permitted her to find in the holy Catholic Church 'the path over which so many saints and martyrs have passed to heaven'—as she expressed it—at length meekly and joyfully resigned her youthful spirit to her Maker; leaving the light of a beautiful example to shine around the lonely home, and console the bereaved family. Her grandmother, who embraced the faith soon after her granddaughter made profession of it, followed her to the other world in a few months, consoled by all the rites of the church, in which, though she entered its blessed inclosure late in life, she had in a 'short space,' by her good words and works, acquired the merit of many years. Then 'Aunt Laura' and Kitty's younger sister joined them, 'rejoicing in hope.' 'Aunt Ruby' survived them some years, and was often heard to wish, with a sigh, that she could be sure she was as well prepared to leave the world as her Catholic sister; but she never had the courage to brave the ill-opinion of her own little world of Congregationalism—over the modern innovations and delinquencies of which she never ceased to mourn—by following that sister into the only 'ark of safety.'"
"Ah!" I exclaimed; "how many changes indeed. Then I shall never see those dear friends whom I had so fondly hoped to meet again. And where is Mrs. L——, our energetic little knitter, who was so true to every impulse of divine grace and truth?"
"She has long slept in the village cemetery. 'Faithful unto death!' might well have been the inscription upon her grave. She passed through severe and bitter trials, and was made to feel that there are tortures as cruel as those of the rack or wheel, to a sensitive spirit, in the cold contempt and neglect of those who should have been her protectors, as they were her only earthly support. But she never wavered for a moment in her firm trust, or ceased to rejoice that she had been called to the profession of the true faith, which abundantly sustained her under all her griefs and sufferings."