The cover image was created by the transcriber andis dedicated without reservation to the public domain.
Along a quiet road a man was walking at asteady, swinging pace. He was above themedium height, strongly built, and his erectcarriage bespoke him one accustomed to militarydrill, while the knapsack swung over hisshoulder and the blue overcoat on his armseemed to indicate that he was one of the returningveterans of the lately disbanded Unionarmy.
His face, young and strongly Celtic in feature,was not unhandsome, though marred by asinister expression. It was that of a bold, badman on the alert to better his own fortuneswithout regard to the rights of others; and ashe pressed onward he sent many a covetousglance toward the comfortable farmhouses,orchards, and rich harvest fields on either hand.
At length, turning aside from the main roadand making his way through a bit of woods, hepaused in front of a rude cabin standing in a2potato patch, enclosed by a rough, zigzag rail-fence.An old man in patched, worn, and byno means clean garments sat on the door-stepsmoking a dirty pipe.
His wife stood just behind him with her knitting,a coarse woollen stocking, in her hands.She threw it from her as the traveller openedthe gate, and with a wild cry, “It’s me son!me bye Phalim come home till his mither atlast!” rushed out and threw herself upon hisbreast, weeping for very joy.
He returned her embrace with ardor almostequal to her own, filial affection so softening hiscountenance that the evil look was banished forthe moment.
The old man rose with trembling eagernessand grasped his son’s hand. “An’ it’s yersilf,lad!” he cried. “Thank the blessed Varginan’ all the howly saints that ye’ve come backtill yer mither an’ me alive an’ well afther allthe fightin’ ye’ve been in!”
There were rapid questions and answers,knapsack and overcoat were bestowed withinthe cabin, a chair or two were brought out intothe shade before the door, and with a pipeapiece and a bottle of whiskey the three madethemselves comfortable, while Phelim gave anaccount of his wanderings and exploits, inventing,embellishing, or suppressing occurrencesas suited his fancy.
“An’ have yees made yer fortin, Phalim, me3lad?” queried his mother, regarding him witha look of maternal pride and fondness.
“Not jist yit,