where there was a tavern, at which I remained over night. I arrived at the town of Spencer the following afternoon, and inquired if there was a gentleman living in that village by the name of Erskine. I was informed that there was, and that he boarded in a house about half a mile farther up the road, on the left. When I arrived at the house, I saw a very pleasant, elderly looking woman sitting at the window. I rapped on the door, and inquired if Mr. E— resided there, and was told that he did. After a brief conversation I informed her who I was, when she invited me in and proceeded to relate my father’s history from the date of his leaving Roxbury. Pointing to an old log-cabin on the opposite side of the road, she said I might find him at work there. I hesitated about calling there, and came very near turning back, but the good woman talked to me very kindly and advised me to go. On entering the cabin I saw two old men sitting on a bench near the door. I made a few remarks to them about the weather, and passed along to where another old man was busily at work, bending over a currier’s beam. It was some time before he looked up, but when he did, our eyes met and, for the first time in my life, I saw my father. I stepped up to him, saying,
"Haven’t you seen me somewhere before?"
"Very likely, very likely," he replied. "I’ve often visited that town."
"That’s the very place," I replied.
"Where?" said he.
"In the old town of Roxbury!" I exclaimed.
He was so overcome by this sudden disclosure he fell
