The last upon whom he called, though much his senior in years, had been a friend and associate from early life, and was just returned to the farm which civil dissension had compelled him, for a while, to abandon. "Hunt," said the Colonel. "I have called to bid you good-bye --I hope you may prosper." "I don't know how that will be," answered the husbandman, -- "Peace, it is true, has come at last; but I am now a poor man with a large family to pro-vide for. My cattle have all been stolen, my negroes have run away, my fences are burnt up, and my house and barns in ruin. Of all my property nothing now remains but naked fields,--I don't know how I shall get along." "Say no more," replied Delancey. "Look at me. You can remain here and cultivate your lands in quiet, while I must leave my native country--never to return." As he spoke these prophetic words, he turned in the saddle and gazed once more over Bronxdale, which in all its beauty lay full before him. His paternal fields and every object presented to his view were associated with the joyful recollections of early life. The consciousness that he beheld them all for the last time, and the uncertainties to be encountered in the strange country to which banishment was consigning him, conspired to awaken emotions, such as the sternest bosom is sometimes compelled

52 THE McDONALD PAPERS

to entertain. It was in vain that he struggled to suppress feelings which shook his iron heart. Nature soon obtained the mastery, and he burst into tears. After weeping with un-controllable bitterness for a few moments, he shook his ancient friend by the hand; ejaculated with difficulty the words of benediction, "God bless you Theophilus," --and spurring for-ward, turned his back forever upon his native valley.