IV.
THE END OF DREAMS.
A FEEBLE old man, and a young lady, f who is just now blooming into the maturity of womanhood, are toiling up a gentle slope, where the spring sun lies warmly. The old man totters, though he leans heavily upon his cane ; and he pants, as he seats himself upon a mossy rock, that crowns the summit of the slope. As he recovers breath, he draws the hand of the lady in his, and with a trembling eagerness he points out an old mansion that lies below under the shadow of tall sycamores ; and he says feebly and brok enly, "That is it, Maggie, the old
home, the sycamores, the garret, Charlie, Nelly "
The old man wipes his eyes. Then his hand shifts : he seems groping in darkness ; but soon it rests upon a little cottage below, heavily overshadowed :
"That was it, Maggie: Madge lived there sweet Madge, your mother," >
Again the old man wipes his eyes, and the lady turns away.
(*)
