right over the same high palisade. Why, that very golden light acrost
the water between the two high rocks--that golden line of light seems
to me now, almost as it did then in my childhood, the only path to
Heaven.

"Heaven and Earth would be all changed to me if I had to give up my old
home. Why, every tree, and shrub, and rock seems like a part of my own
beloved family, such sacred associations cluster around them of my
childhood and manhood. And the memories of the dear ones gone seem to be
woven into the very warp and woof of the stately old elm-trees that
shade its velvet lawns, and the voice of the river seems full of old
words and music, vanished tones and laughter.

"No one can know, or dream, how inexpressibly dear the old home is to my
heart. If I had to give it up," sez he, "it would be like tearin' out my
very heart-strings, and partin' with what seems like a part of my own
life."

The man looked very earnest and sincere when he said this, and even
agitated. He meant what he said, no doubt on't.

And then Krit sez, "How would you like it if you were ordered to leave
it at a day's notice--leave it forever--leave it so some one else, some
one you hated, some one who had always injured you, could enjoy it--

"Leave it so that you knew you could never live there again, never
see a sun rise or a sun set over the dear old fields, and mountains, and
river, you loved so well--

"Never have the chance to stand by the graves of your fathers, and your