Tom's Come Home

Wïfh its heavily roeking and svnnging load, The stage-coach rolls up the mountain. The ïQowers lean on their scythes and nay, " Hullo! what brings Big George this way ?" The children clinib the siats and wait To see him drive through the dooryard gate ; When, four-in-hand, sédate and rand, He briugs the oíd craft like a ship to land. At the window, inild, gr:ini!motiurly eyea Beam froni their plassea with quaintBnrprisf Grow wide with wonder, and guess, and doubt; Xhen a quick, half-stifled voice shrioks out, 11 Torn ! Toni's come home !" The face at the casexnent disappears, To fihine at the door, joy and tears, As a traveler, dusty and bearded and brown, Orer the wbeel steps lightly down, " Well, motlier !" (l My son I" And to his brest A forward-tottering form is pressed She lies there, and cries thereí now at arms-Iength Admires his manly sièe and Btrength (While he winks hata One misty eyc) ; Then calis to the youngstcr staring uiih" Quick ! go for your gran'ther ! run, boys, niD ! Teil him your unole - teil him hiB sou - Oiir Tom's come home !" t The stage-coach waits ; but little cares Bhe What faces pleasantly Pmilo to eee Her jostled glasees and tumbled cap. Big George's hands the lrunk unstrap And bear it in : while two light-heeled Young Mercuries fly to tha aiowiug field, And shriek and beckoü, and meet half-way The oíd gran'ther, lame and gaunt and gray, Coat on arm, half in alarm, Striding over the Btony farm. The good news clears his cloudy face, And he cries as he quickens híB anxious pace, 11 Torn ? Torn come home ?" With twitching cheek and quivering lid (A soft heart ïinder the hard linea fiid), And " Torn. how d'e do ?" iü a husky voice, He graspa with rourh, strong hand the boy's - A boy's no more u I shouldn't have known That beard." While Tom's fine baritone Rolls out from his deep cheat cheerily, 11 You're hale as ever, I'm glad to ece." In the back porch the mother stands, And rubs her glasses witb trembling hands, And smiling, with eyee that blear and blink, Chimes in, " I never!" and "Only think ! Our Tom's come home !" With question and joke and anecdote, He brushes his hat, they dust his coat, While all the household gathers near- Tanned urchins, eager to see and hettP. And large-eyed, dark-eyed, shy young mother, Widow of Tom'e unlucky brother, Who turned out ill, and was drowned at the ïnill j The Btricken old people mourn him stiily And the hope of their lives in hiir undüne ; But grief for the dissolut rlVined son - Their best beloved And oldest boy - Is all forgotten, or turned to joy, Now Toin's come home, Yet Torn was never the favoPeií tUilct, Though Torn was steadjr anti Will was wild ! But often his oirn And his brother's ehare Of blows ftnd blame he was forced to bear ; Tül at last he said, "Here is no room For both- I go !" Now he to whom Scant grace was shown, has proved the ona Large-hearted, upright, truety son; nd well may the old folks joy to ftnA HiB brow eo frank and bis eye bo kíní, No shadow of all the past aïlowed To tronóle the present hour, or cloud His welcome home. ; His tmnk uulocked, the lid he Uftö . And laya out curious, cctly gifts '; For Torn has prospeí-ed Blhce he went luto his lonff eelfbanishinent. Ëach youtiftster's glee, as he hugs his sharo, The widow's surprise, and the old folks' air Of affectionate pride in a son sogooot, Thrill fcim with generous gratitudes And he thinks, " Am I thit loücly lad Who went off friendlets, poor and Bad, That dismal day from my falher's door?" And can it be true that he is hero once more In his childhood's home ? 'Tis hard to think of his brothtet dteftd, And a widow and órphans hcre in hÍB stead So little seenis changed ftince they were young ! The row of hats whero the hats were htmg ; The checkered chimney and hearth of bricks ; The sober old clock with its Ionesoine ticks vn.l shrill totul chimo for t.ljp flvipc time : The stairs the bare feet used to cliinb, Torn chasing his wild bedf ellow WiU ; And there is the small, low bed-rooni still, And the table he had when a little lad ; Ah, Torn, does it make you sad or glad, This coming home? Tom's heart is moved. u Nöw. 'dbH'i ïiiïud me ! I am no etrangor gueBÍ" Qtíe. lié. II And, father, I say ï1 wxb tho old-time laugh- " Don't kill for me any fatted calf ! But go now and show me the Bheep and swine ind the cattle- where is that colt of mino?- And the farm and crops- is barrost over? T'd like a chanc at tho oats and dover. I can mo- you'll ñnd and vmM Ann bind, Id hay, 8tow ftwy, cá, rh'e behind ; For I know ï ecyliie irom a well-sweep yet, In an ïlotir I'Il make you quite forget That I'vebeen from home." He plucks from its peg an old. farm hat, And with cordial chat upon this and that, Torn walks with his father about the place. There's a peusive grace in his flue young face As they loiter under the orchard trees As he breathes once more the mountaiti. breeüe, And looks from tho hillside far away Over pasture and fallow and field oi hay, Tq the hazy peaks of the azure range, Which change forever-. vet neVeP fbnge. The wild, Bweet winds his weiiMime blow ; Even old Monadbock seems to know That Tom'B come home. The old man stammers and speaks at last ; " You notice your mother is failing fast, Though she can't see it. Poor Wili's disgraco And debts, and the mortgage on the place ; His sudden death - 'twas a dreadful blow ; She couldn't bear up like a man, you know. She'ö talked of you since the trouble came ; Sonie things in the past Bhe seemB to blame Herstlf for ; what, it is hard to teil. [ marvel how she keeps round so well, For oftn all night Bhe lies awake, ï'm thankfut, if only for her sake, That you've wme home." They visit the field ; Torn mows with the men ; And now they come round to the porch again. The mother draws Torn aside ; let sink Her voice to a whisper, and, " What do you think 7 Y ou see," she says, " he is broken quite. Sametimes he tosses and groans all night, And- Toni, it is hard, it is hard indeed ! The mortgage, and so many mouths to feed ! But teil him he must not worry bo, Aüd work so hard, for he don't know That he hasn't the strength of a younger man. Counsel him, comfort him, all you can, While you're at home." Torn 's heart is full ; he moves away, And ponders what he will do and say. And now atjevening all are met, The tea íb drawn, the table Bet, Bat when the old man, with bended head, In reverent, fervent tones has said The opening phrase of his simple grace, He falters, the tears course down bis face ; For the words seem cold, and the seuse of the old Set form is too weak his joy to hold ; And broken accents best expresa The upheaved heart's deep tbaukfulness. Now Tom's come home. The supper done, Torn haB bis s?y : " I heard of some matterB first to-day ; And I cali it a shame- you're both to blame - That a son, who has only to sign his name, To lift the mortgage and clear the score, Should noverhave bad that chance before. From this time f orth you are f ree from care ; ïour troubles I share ; your burdens I bear. So promise to quit hard work, and say That you'll gíve youraelves a holiday. Now, father ! now, mother ! you can't refuse ; For what's a son for, and what's the use Of his coming liome?" And so there is a clieer in tbe house to-nigat. H can hardly hold so much delight. Tom wanders forth acroas the lot, And, under the stars - though Tom is not So pions as boys sometiines have been - Thanks Heaven, that tnrned his though t from sin, Ana blessed hlm, and bronght hlm home once more. And now he knocks at a cottage door, Fot' one who has waited many a year In hope that thrilling sound to hear ; Wno, happy as other hearts may be, Knows well'thorp is none bo glad as sho Tliat Tora's come home. - Harjnrs Monthlp for &'eptew,ber.