e and still cherish me, happiness may still be ours;
and although no formal voice has yet called us one, by all that's sacred
in the stillness of the night, and by every honest beating of this
heart, dear Miriam, you are mine, to watch, to tend, to love, to
reverence, in sickness, in sorrow, in care, in joy; by all that belongs
of gaiety to youth, in manhood and in age, we will have one home, one
couch, one fireside, one grave, one God, and one hereafter."

An old familiar instrument, swept as he well knew by his mother's
fingers, sounded at that moment from the homestead, and hand in hand,
blending their steps, they returned to the Thanksgiving household
within.

CHAPTER TENTH.

THE CONCLUSION.

When Elbridge and Miriam re-entered the homestead they found the best
parlor, which they had left in humble dependence on the light of a
single home-made wick, now in full glow, and wide awake in every corner,
with a perfect illumination of lamps and candles; and every thing in the
room had waked up with them. The old brass andirons stood shining like a
couple of bald-headed little grandfathers by the hearth; the letters in
the sampler over the mantel, narrating the ages of the family, had
renewed their color; the tall old clock, allowed to speak again, stood
like an overgrown schoolboy with his face newly washed, stretching
himself up in a corner; the painted robins and partridges on the wall,
now in full feather, strutting and flying about in all the glory of an
unfading plumage; and at the rear of all the huge back-log on the hearth
glowed and rolled in his place as happy as an alderman at a city feast.
The Peabodys too, partook of the new illumination, and were there in
their best looks, scattered about the room in cheerful groups, while in
the midst of all the widow Margaret, her face lighted with a smile which
came there from far-off years, holding in her hand as we see an angel in
the sunny clouds in old pictures, the ancient harpsichord, which till
now had been laid away and out of use for many a long day of sadness.

While Elbridge and Miriam stood still in wonder at the sudden change of
this living pageant, old Sylvester, his white head carried proudly
aloft, appeared from the sitting-room with Mr. Barbary, a quaint figure,
freed now of his long coat, and bearing no trace of travel on his neat
apparel and face of cheerful gravity. Leaving the preacher in the centre
of the apartment, the patriarch advanced