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"Life," said James, "is always teaching us a lesson. We live to learn in the passing years, how much we have done amiss and to repent, often when our repentance is at so late an hour, we cannot enjoy it as we would. But I hope your good days may yet be many; see, here is a cup of our fresh, cool water! Thank you, John! Now just gather up the limbs and bushes you have been trimming off, and throw them together in the yard -- will you?"

"Yes, sir," said the man, and walked away.

"Have you ever been here before?" inquired James.

"Yes, sir; I suppose this is my native place. I have been from it, however, a good many years; every thing seems new -- I scarcely see a face I know."

"And do you propose to apply to us for support?" inquired James.

"I have thought I must, for I am now old and poor, and my means of support are all gone -- I have no friends, and you see how I am clothed."

"Have you any legal settlement in the town?"

"I don't know that I have ever lost it, except that I have resided in foreign parts -- not in any other State in this country."

"You have been out of the country -- abroad?"

"Yes."

"How long?"

"A good many years -- thirty or forty."

"And Crampton is your native town?"

"It is."

"Well, please to sit here a few moments. I must see some gentlemen on business who have come on the grounds, and I mil then return here. Make yourself easy."

So saying, James hurried away, and soon returned up the walk accompanied by our old friends, Squire Ben Stout and Mr. Haddock. Soon Mr. and Mrs. Rodman and Alice joined them, and James pointed out to the company the improvements they had made in the walks and shrubbery.

"We have a fine ground here. Squire Ben!" said James.

"Very! very! It is an admirable spot -- just the thing," said the Squire, who at the same time, as he now stood very near him, noticed the stranger start involuntarily at the mention of his name and the sound of his voice, and also that be was intently surveying him.

Squire Ben, however, did not at first pay much attention to him, but he said to James -- "Who have we here, sir?"

"He is a stranger, a sufferer. He may need aid from the town," said James.

Squire Ben regarded him a moment with interest. "Mr. Haddock!" said he.

And the stranger started again, and fixing his eyes on the two gentlemen, rose to his feet, still leaning on his staff.

"Mr. Haddock!" said Squire Ben, "who is this?"

"Pardon me. Squire," returned he, "I do not know. He appears truly to be a person in want."

But the Squire's attention was not lessened by this reply. He turned the eyes of the company on him by saying -- "There is something in the man, that seems familiar to me."

"I see. Squire Stout," said the poor man, "that you recognize something in my features, sorrowfully worn as they are by the sins and toils of my life, that reminds you of the past. And do you, George Haddock, see in me any thing that you can recall or recognize?"

"Something, perhaps, in the voice has a familiar sound -- I do not notice any thing further"

"But, good Heavens!" exclaimed the Squire -- "for God's sake -- is it so -- or am I mistaken, are you dead or alive? What on earth! speak again, sir! what, in the name of all the marvellous -- what does this mean?" and he grasped the stranger by the hand. "Haddock! Haddock! what, don't you see -- James! Jims, for God's sake, where are you, Jims?"

"Why, here I am I Squire, what do you mean? Speak! What is all this?"

The Squire dropped the hand he had grasped -- "James," said he, "by Heaven, this is your father! " --

With a shriek of wild amazement, mingled with moaning and affection, the son fell on the neck of the stranger -- himself bewildered now -- yet stranger no longer -- his long-lost FATHER. And they wept together firmly locked in each other's arms. And around them was nothing but surprise and weeping -- even the workmen left their labors and the inmates ceased their strolling, and all gathered round, and flocked together, weeping and rejoicing.

The father and son were almost borne together by their friends to the house, who now entreated them to be calm.

"Take off that accursed robe of poverty and wretchedness -- take it from him!" cried James. "He shall want no longer! And if there's a fatted calf on the farm let it be killed; and we will have music and dancing, for the lost is found. My FATHER who was dead is alive again!"

Nothing like this had ever before transpired in Crampton; nothing ever before so stirred up the feelings of surprise in its inhabitants, or produced a more joyful and tearful set of emotions and sympathies.

Long explanations followed -- too long for us to repeat them. We simply say that Mr. Sherman, (for it was he,) having survived the attack of fever in the West Indies, and wishing to produce the impression at home of his death, had, with the aid of a fellow-sailor, practiced deceit on the American Consul, Mr. H----s, at Barbadoes, and shipped for Calcutta. Here he fell into ways of life agreeable to his present views and customs, and suffering extremely, enlisted in the service of the East India Company. He continued in the British army there ten years, when, being severely wounded in an engagement in a hard battle with the natives of one of the interior provinces, be was laid by from further garrison and camp duty, and transferred, after two years, to the navy. Here be remained six or eight years, and was at length released through the agency of the American Consul at Calcutta. He subsequently sailed to the Pacific, and after three years returned again to that port, where be engaged a passage to his own country. On the passage be was wrecked on the African coast; and it was a long time, at least two years, before be found an opportunity of escape. When he did, it was by a vessel bound to the East; and it was three years before he finally reached New-York, sick, dispirited, and without any money to pay his ordinary expenses.