"Oh yes, sir! Their mother died when the boys were about fifteen and seventeen. Samuel had always been strongly attached to his mother, and that, no doubt, kept him at home; but after that he was more restless than ever, and begged the father to give him money to carry himself to America. The father refused. They grew mutually angry; and one day, when they had had high words, the father thought Samuel was disrespectful, and struck him. The young man had a proud spirit. That was more than he could bear. He did not utter a word in reply, but turning, walked out of the house, and from that hour has never once been heard of. "His father was very angry with him, and for many years never spoke of him but with great bitterness and resentment, calling him an unnatural and ungrateful son. But of late years he has softened very much, and I can see that it preys on his mind, and as things have gone against him, he has come to think that it is a judgment on him for his hardness and unreasonableness in not letting the poor boy try his fortune as he so yearned to do. "Since I have been in the family, I have led him by degrees to talk on this subject, and have endeavored to comfort him, telling him he had meant well, and since, he had seen the thing in a different light. Ah, sir! how differently we see things when our heat of mind is gone over, and the old home heart begins to stir in us again. But, since he has done this, and repented of it, God can not continue his anger, and so that can not be the cause of his misfortunes. No, sir, I don't think that--but things have altered very much of late years in this country. The farms up in this Peak country used to be let very low, very low indeed; and now they have been three several times valued and raised since I can remember. People can not live on them now, they really can not. Then the old gentleman, as farming grew bad, speculated in lead mines, and that was much worse; he did not understand it, and was sorely imposed on, and lost a power of money; oh! so much that it is a misery to think of. Then, as troubles, they say, fly like crows in companies, there came a very wet summer, and all the corn was spoiled. That put a finish to father's hopes. He was obliged to quit the old farm where the Warilows had been for ages, and that hurt him cruelly--it is like shifting old trees, shifting old people is--they never take to the new soil. "But as Joseph was extremely knowing in cattle, father took this farm--it's a great grazing farm, sir, seven hundred acres, and we feeden cattle. You would not believe it, sir, but we have only one man on this farm besides Joseph and father." "It is very solitary," said the stranger.