The new world is forgotten for the moment; blue Killarney and the Liffey sparkle before him, and Glendalough stretches beneath him its dark, still mirror; he sees the same evening sunshine rest upon and hallow alike with Nature's blessing the ruins of the Seven Churches of Ireland's apostolic age, the broken mound of the Druids, and the round towers of the Phoenician sun-worshippers; pleasant and mournful recollections of his home waken within him; and the rough and seemingly careless and light-hearted laborer melts into tears.

It is no light thing to abandon one's own country and household gods.

Touching and beautiful was the injunction of the prophet of the Hebrews: "Ye shall not oppress the stranger; for ye know the heart of the stranger, seeing that ye were strangers in the land of Egypt." PATUCKET FALLS.
MANY years ago I read, in some old chronicle of the early history of New England, a paragraph which has ever since haunted my memory, calling up romantic associations of wild Nature and wilder man:-- "The Sachem Wonolanset, who lived by the Groat Falls of Patucket, on the Merrimac." It was with this passage in my mind that I visited for the first time the Rapids of the Merrimac, above Lowell.
Passing up the street by the Hospital, a large and elegant mansion surrounded by trees and shrubbery and climbing vines, I found myself, after walking a few rods farther, in full view of the Merrimac.

A deep and rocky channel stretched between me and the Dracut shore, along which rushed the shallow water,--a feeble, broken, and tortuous current, winding its way among splintered rocks, rising sharp and jagged in all directions.

Drained above the falls by the canal, it resembled some mountain streamlet of old Spain, or some Arabian wady, exhausted by a year's drought.