As he refolded the articles one after the other, a smile betokened that he was pleased with his examination.

Rising from this task, he went back to the table, from the drawer of which he took a piece of buckskin and whiting.

Mashing the latter with a knife-handle, he began to rub and polish several silver forks and spoons which were in a basket.

The salt-cellars and other small articles of table-service, which were mostly of the same metal, were all subjected to a similar process, and soon glittered brightly in the feeble lamplight.
While he was engaged in this strange work, the soul of the poor old man was busy with a thousand conflicting thoughts and recollections.

He was constantly muttering to himself; and many a tear escaped from his lids as he dreamed over the past and repeated the names of the loved and lost! "Poor brother!" ejaculated he; "but one man alone in the world knows what I have done for thee, and yet that man accuses me of bad faith and ingratitude! And thou, poor brother, art wandering in the icy solitudes of America, a prey perhaps to sickness and suffering, while for months no kindly look is fixed upon thee in that wilderness where thou earnest thy miserable wages! Son of a noble race! thou hast become a slave to the stranger, and thy toil serves to amass the fortunes which others are to enjoy! My love for thee has made me suffer martyrdom; but, as God is my judge, my affection has remained entire,--untouched! May thy soul, O brother, feel this aspiration of mine even in the isolation where thou art suffering; and may the consciousness of my love be a balm for thy misery!" The poor gentleman was absorbed for some time in painful meditation; but after a while his dream seemed over, and he betook himself again to work.