"
--BEN. JOHNSON.
Since the events recorded in our last chapter, six years have rolled their
swift, though noiseless round, ere we look in upon our friends again; six
years bringing such changes as they must;--growth and development to the
very young, a richer maturity, a riper experience to those who had already
attained to adult life, and to the aged, increasing infirmities, reminding
them that their race is nearly run; it may be so with others; it must be
so with them.
There have been gains and losses, sickness and other afflictions, but
death has not yet entered any of their homes.
At Ion, the emerald, velvety lawn, the grand old trees, the sparkling
lakelet, the flower gardens and conservatories gay with rich autumn hues,
were looking their loveliest, in the light of a fair September morning.
The sun was scarcely an hour high, and except in the region of the
kitchen and stables quiet reigned within and without the mansion; doors
and windows stood wide open, and servants were busied here and there
cleaning and setting in order for the day, but without noise or bustle.
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