On the north were barns, immense and well filled granaries and stables. Then came tobacco houses, covering acres of ground. One would hardly have suspected the plain, unpretentious Mr. Tompkins as being the possessor of all this wealth. But his house held his greatest treasures--two bright little boys, aged respectively nine and seven years. Abner, the elder, had bright blue eyes and the clear Saxon complexion of his father. Oleah, the younger, was of the same dark Southern type as his mother. They were two such children as even a Roman mother might have been proud to call her jewels. Bright and affectionate, they yielded a quick obedience to their parents, and--a remarkable thing for boys--were always in perfect accord. "Oh, mamma, mamma!" cried Oleah, following close after his brother, and quite as much excited. "Well, what is the matter?" the mother asked, with a smile. "It's coming! it's coming! it's coming!" cried Oleah. "He's coming! he's coming!" shouted Abner. "Who is coming?" asked the mother. "Papa, papa, papa!" shouted both at the top of their voices. "Papa is coming down the big hill on the stage-coach." Mrs. Tompkins was now looking for herself. Sure enough there was the great, old-fashioned stage-coach lumbering down the hill, and her husband was an outside passenger, as the sky was now clear and the sun shone warm and bright. The clumsy vehicle showed the mud-stains of its long travel, and the roads in places were yet filled with water. The winding of the coachman's horn, which never failed to set the boys dancing with delight, sounded mellow and clear on the morning air. "It's going to stop! it's going to stop!" cried Oleah, clapping his little hands. "It's going to stop! it's going to stop!" shouted Abner, and both kept up a frantic shouting, "Whoa, whoa!" to the prancing horses as they drew near the house. It paused in front of the gate, and Mrs. Tompkins and her two boys hurried down the walk. Mr. Tompkins' baggage had just been taken from the boot and placed inside the gate, and the stage had rolled on, as his wife and two boys came up to the traveler. "Mamma first, and me next," said Oleah, preparing his red lips for the expected kiss. "And I come after Oleah," said Abner. Mr. Tompkins called to a negro boy who was near to carry the baggage to the house, and the happy group made their way to the great piazza, the two boys clinging to their father's hands and keeping up a torrent of questions. Where had he been? What had he seen? What had he brought home for them? The porch reached, Mrs. Tompkins drew up the arm-chair for her tired husband. "Rest a few minutes," she said, "and then you can take a bath and change your clothes, and you will feel quite yourself once more." The planter took the seat, with a bright-faced child perched on each side of him. "You were gone so long without writing that I became uneasy," said his wife, drawing her chair close to his side.