shoulders,
stirred with the night air; his hands rested upon his knees, and his eyes,
turned slightly upward, seemed to seek for some one he found it difficult
to recognize. Changed as he was by time, heavily as years had done their
work upon him, the stern features were not to be mistaken; but as I looked,
he called out in a voice whose unshaken firmness seemed to defy the touch
of time,--

"Charley O'Malley, come here, my boy! Bring her to me, till I bless you
both. Come here, Lucy,--I may call you so. Come here, my children. I have
tried to live on to see this day, when the head of an old house comes back
with honor, with fame, and with fortune, to dwell amidst his own people in
the old home of his fathers."

The old man bent above us, his white hair falling upon the fair locks of
her who knelt beside him, and pressed his cold and quivering hand within
her own.

"Yes, Lucy," said I, as I led her within the house, "this is home."

Here now ends my story. The patient reader who has followed me so far
deserves at my hands that I should not trespass upon his kindness one
moment beyond the necessity; if, however, any lurking interest may remain
for some of those who have accompanied me through this my history, it
may be as well that I should say a few words farther, ere they disappear
forever.

Power went to India immediately after his marriage, distinguished himself
repeatedly in the Burmese war, and finally rose to a high command that he
this moment holds, with honor to himself and advantage to his country.

O'Shaughnessy, on half-pay, wanders about the Continent, passing his
summers on the Rhine, his winters at Florence or Geneva. Known to and by
everybody, his interest in the service keeps him _au courant_ to every
change and regulation, rendering him an invaluable companion to all to whom
an army list is inaccessible. He is the same good fellow he ever was, and
adds to his many excellent qualities the additional one of being the only
man who can make a bull in French!

Monsoon, the major, when last I saw him, was standing on the pier at
Calais, endeavoring, with a cheap telescope, to make out the Dover cliffs,
from a nearer prospect of which certain little family circumstances might
possibly debar him. He recognized me in a moment, and held out his hand,
while his eye twinkled with its ancient drollery.

"Charley, my son, how goes it? Delighted to see you. What a pity I did not
meet you yesterday! Had a li