Arrived at DuBois 5 P.M. This road has only been in use since in June, and the people gather round as though it was yet a novelty to see the trains come in. I manage to land safely with all my luggage in hand, and make my way through the crowd to Dr. Smathers'. There stood Francis watching the darkies pass on their way to camp meeting; but when he recognized this darkey, he danced a jig around me, and ran on before to tell mamma "Auntie Pet" had come. I could not wait until I reached the "wee Margaretta" to call to her, and then came Sister Maggie, and were not we glad? and, oh! how thankful for all this mercy! and the new moon looked down upon us, and looked glad too. These were glad, happy days, but I was not yet home. Father and Norval came in a few days. Norval to go with Charley to Nebraska, and father to take his daughter home. "Well, Frank, you look just like the same girl after all your wandering," father said, as he wiped his eyes after the first greeting: "Yes, nothing seems to change Pet, only she is much healthier looking than when she went away," Maggie said. August 10. Father and I started early for a forty mile drive home, through farming and timber country. About one-third is cleared land, the rest is woods, stumps, and stones. At noon "Colonel" was fed, and we sat down under pine trees and took our lunch of dried buffalo meat from the west, peaches from the south, and apples from home. Well, I thought, that is just the way this world gets mixed up. It takes a mixture to make a good dinner, and a mixture to make a good world. While going through Punxsutawney (Gnat-town), I read the sign over a shed, "Farming Implements." I looked, and saw one wagon, a plow, and something else, I guess it was a stump puller. I could not help comparing the great stock of farming implements seen in every little western town. Along Big Mahoning creek, over good and bad roads, up hill and down we go, until we cross Little Mahoning--bless its bright waters!--and once more I look upon Smicksburg, my own native town--the snuggest, dearest little town I ever did see! and surrounded by the prettiest hills. If I wasn't so tired, I'd make a bow to every hill and everybody. Two miles farther on, up a long hill, and just as the sun sends its last rays aslant through the orchard, we halt at the gate of "Centre Plateau," and as I am much younger than father, I get out and swing wide the gate. It is good to hear the old gate creak a "welcome home" on its rusty hinges once more, and while father drives down the lane I slip through a hole in the fence, where the rails are crooked, and chase Rosy up from her snug fence corner; said "how do you do," to Goody and her calf, and start Prim into a trot; and didn't we all run across the meadow to the gate, where my dear mother stood waiting for me. "Mother, dear, your daughter is safe home at last," I said, "and won't leave you soon again!"