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OLIVE BUDS.
ed him a chair, and he sank into it. He gazed earnestly on each of their faces, then on the sleeping children; and then on every article of furniture, as on some recollected friend. Stretching out his withered arms, he said, in a tone scarcely audible, "brother, brother." The sound of that voice opened the tender remembrances of many years. They hastened to welcome the wanderer, and to mingle their tears with his.
"Brother, Sister, I have come home to you, to die."
He was too much exhausted to converse, and they exerted themselves to prepare him fitting nourishment, and to make him comfortable for the night. The next morning he was unable to