Then the brothers and their wives and children came in, and there was
such a scene that Browning slipped out, seated himself on the piazza, and
mopping his brow with his kerchief, said, "Bless my soul; I believe I
will never go home. There is more real enjoyment at a miner's funeral in
Virginia City; there is, by Jove."

But they found him after a little, and Sedgwick presented him to his
kinfolk as his close companion, and he was welcomed in a way which
touched him deeply, and made him conclude that the world was filled with
good people.

Soon the news spread, and the neighbors began to pour in, and what a day
it was! What old memories were awakened and rehearsed; what every one had
done; who had died; who had married; all the history of the little place
for all the years.

Going home after a long absence is a little like what one might imagine
of a resurrection from the dead. There is exceeding joy, but mingled with
it is much of the damp and chill of the tomb. Indeed, going home after a
long absence "causes all the burial places of memory to give up their
dead," and through all the joy there is an undertone of sorrow, for all
the reminders are of the fact that the calmest lives are speedily
sweeping on; that there is no halting in the swift transit between birth
and death.

Three days passed, and notwithstanding the enjoyment, Sedgwick found that
there was a good deal of trouble worrying the family. The old mortgage of
$5,000 was not paid; rather, it had been doubled to make a first payment
on a 200-acre farm adjoining, and with fitting up and stocking the old
place, and with bad crops, the debts amounted altogether to more than