Tempest and Sunshine

At last rousing himself he turned to his other guests, and said, "You

mustn't think hard on me, if I ain't as peart and talkin' like for a

spell; Bill's comin' home has kinder oversot the old man, and I'm thinkin'

of the past when we's little boys and lived at home on pap's old

plantation afore any of us was dead."

The young gentlemen readily excused the old man's silence, and when the

slanting beams of the setting sun betokened the approach of night, they

all, with the exception of Ashton, began to speak of returning home. Mr.

Middleton urged them to stay, saying, "What's the use of goin'? Nancy's

got beds enough, I reckon, and will be right glad of a chance to show her

new calico kiverlids, and besides we are goin' to have some briled hen in

the morning, so stay."

But as the next day was the Sabbath, the gentlemen declined the

invitation, and bidding the host "good-bye," they were soon on their way

homeward, each declaring that he had seldom spent a pleasanter day. As

they can undoubtedly find their way to Frankfort without our assistance,

we will remain at Uncle Joshua's together with Mr. William Middleton and

Ashton. The latter felt as if he had suddenly found an old friend, and as

nothing of importance required his presence at home, he decided to remain

where he was until Monday.

That evening, after everything was "put to rights" and Mr. Middleton had

yelled out his usual amount of orders, he returned to the porch, where his

brother and Ashton were still seated. Lighting his old cob pipe he said,

"Come, Bill, Nancy'll fetch out her rockin' cheer and knittin' work, and

we'll hear the story of your doin's in that heathenish land, but be kinder

short, for pears like I'd lived a year today, and I feel mighty like goin'

to sleep."

After a moment's silence Mr. Middleton commenced: "I shall not attempt to

justify myself for running away as I did, and yet I cannot say that I have

ever seriously regretted visiting those countries, which I probably shall

never look upon again. I think I wrote to you, Joshua, that I took passage

on the ship Santiago, which was bound for the East Indies. Never shall I

forget the feeling of loneliness which crept over me, on the night when I

first entered the city of Calcutta, and felt that I was indeed alone in a

foreign land, and that more than an ocean's breadth rolled between me and

my childhood's home. But it was worse than useless to dwell upon the past.

I had my fortune to make, and I began to look about for some employment.

At last I chanced to fall in with an intelligent Spaniard, Signor de

Castello. He was a wealthy merchant, and for several years had resided in

Calcutta. As he spoke the English language fluently, I found no trouble in

making his acquaintance.