"Yes," said Mr. Everlyn, "we call that old town home, until this unwieldy tabernacle of ours is ready to receive us in its new location. It is nearly nine o'clock," he added, taking out his watch," the boat passes the mouth of the Run about ten, does it not?"

Hardly so early, I think, sir," Somers answered, "It is well, however, to be in time. I am highly gratified that you are bound for St. Johns, for I propose going there myself this morning, and it will be a pleasure as great as unexpected to be favored with your company and Miss Everlyn's, on the little voyage.

The polite assurance was reciprocated by Mr. Everlyn and his daughter, and Somers left them for a few moments to make some communication of a business character to the party of New Yorkers.

The communication having been made, and properly responded to by those who received it, Somers hastened away to join the Everlyns. Schrowder looking after him, as his brisk steps carried him towards Anderport, said, "He is in a mighty hurry, that's a fact. Afterwards, he addressed his two fellow travellers :-"What's your opinion, folks-haven't we seen and heard something new to day? I guess we'll come to understand the ways of this queer people perfectly after a while. But of all curious notions, this takes my eye-to think of falling in love with a lot of bricks! and then to lug them about with a body, as if they were so many diamonds! I believe my heart the people here, down South, are all cracked. Even Somers, who a fellow would have thought to have had more sense, talked almost as light-headed as that gal."

"Consider, though," remarked Dubosk, "that as Mr. Somers is a lawyer, he's bound to court all parties, aud talk all kinds of language. Indeed, it's wonderful how smart practice makes them at it. Last fall, when I was on here, it fairly made my ears stick up to hear how smooth and easy this same Somers could talk of Northern doings, such as ploughing with oxen, and building stun-fence, and so forth. He said it all so natural, too, that I could hardly persuade myself that he had been brought up any where else but in sight of old shaw'ngo."

"Well," returned Schrowder, "I sup

pose you are nigh right. These lawyers are willing to say Yes to any thing you want them to. But, come, folks, shall we go now and take a look at Mr. Dair's lot ?" "Whose ?" said Newlove.

"Why, Dair's; don't you remember the tavern-keeper told us this evening that a man of that name had a farm of nine hundred acres or so to sell ?"

"Yes," replied Newlove, "I do recollect it now; but what is the use of going there we have all three made our purchases, have we not?"

Certainly," rejoined Schrowder; "I don't want any more land; but there is such a thing, you know, as improving one's self by observation. Besides, Mose Hawkins asked me to be on the watch for some farm that would suit him. Wont you go with me Ralph? It will be only a little out of our way."

"Not I, Caleb," answered Dubosk, “I must travel to that precious piece of ground of mine as quick as possible. It will take all the balance of my life time, I calculate, to bring it into decent order, and I must not lose any time in getting about it, at that."

"You'll go, then, at any rate," said Schrowder to Mr. Newlove.

"No sir; I have my daughter in the village here, and must take her to our new house as quick as may be. ""

"If that's the case,' ," said the traveller, who felt the responsibilities of his mission, "I must go by myself, for I am determined to see all that is to be seen."

Away, therefore, Schrowder went, intrepid, though alone. He received directions for his guidance, but experienced the common difficulty of recognizing the proper occasions to apply them. If he was told to follow a fence till he came to a plain road bearing off from it, he, most probably, went a mile too far in expectation of meeting a highway as broad and well worn as a turn-pike. At other times, his mind was so occupied with the routes which he was charged to avoid, that he failed to remember the one which he ought to adopt. But perhaps he was most completely bewildered by a direction obtained from a good old dame whom he found calling up her turkies on the edge of a wood, and who told him to keep on to a place in the midst of the wood where six roads met, then to

choose the most crooked of them, and after proceeding upon it half way to Jeems Sullivan's to strike off at a sharp elbow to the left till he got to Mr. Davis' lane, where he would be likely to find some one capable of giving him further information. "But I don't know where this Mr. Sullivan's is, nor Mr. Davis' either."

"Oh, Mr. Sullivan lives in a brick house, with poplars before the door-though you won't come in sight of it. Mr. Davis is a big, portly man and married old Col. Jackson's second daughter, a hard-favored critter with a voice which, I reckon, you'll know if it ever strikes your ears."

In vain Schrowder pushed his inquiries. The old woman in answer began to recount the names of half the people in the neighborhood, giving comments upon the character or personal appearance of each; or, if recalled to the present difficulty, she would refer to roads which led to mills and meeting-houses ten miles off. Schrowder, in despair, tried to banish from his thoughts all that he had heard, and to stumble on his journey with no worse disadvantage than blindfold ignorance. He crossed deep streams, fourteen-rail fences, and every other obstacle which could vex a traveller, till, at length, he began to think that he had seen quite enough of a country where each field might pass for a prairie, and each wood-lot for a forest-where no sign-boards are found at cross-roads, and where dwellings stand further apart than churches, in a civilized community, ought to stand. Just in time, however, to save himself from the dishonor of leaving his exploration unfinished, he reached the terra incognita of his aim.

The house-Mr. Schrowder, as the representative of Mose Hawkins, looked at it well-was a long, one-story building, a third of which was constructed of stone, a third of frame and weather-boarding, and the remainder of logs. At the door of the middle division appeared the master of the premises, dressed in home-spun. There was only a low fur cap on his head, yet he had to stoop a little in passing under the lintel. His lank and sallow face bristled with a beard which was, probably, of a fortnight's growth; nor was there anything else about Ripley Dair that struck the visitor very agreeably.

The Dairs in former times were one of

the most influential and respected families in the county, while their broad acres covered a large proportion of its best land. They had been distinguished as an openhanded and mettlesome race. Their roof always gave a hospitable shelter to the guest: but never was a Dair seen to fly to that home as a refuge. Every friend knew where to look for staunch and liberal aid; every foe from whence he was was to expect speedy and implacable hostility. Time, however, had brought about a great social change. A large number of the old southern families kept pace with the advancing spirit of the age. The same chivalrous qualities, which characterized them two generations ago remain, and adorned, not weakened by the polish of letters, give them preeminence now. The fate of other families has unfortunately been different. Finding that in these latter days birth and landed property and hereditary daring no longer suffice to give note and importance, they have not been stimulated to the acquisition of those accomplishments which are needed to maintain them in the relative station to which they believe themselves entitled. They see that public respect and the honors of the state are not measured out according to the length of a candidate's genealogy-they see too, that those instinctive traits, courage, and magnanimity, do not now, as they once did, make good all other deficiencies. They must submit to enter the lists on equal terms with other men, to throw aside their ancient privileges, and to engage in a contest, whose prize is not cut off from the low-born, nor even from the dastardly they must be reconciled to all this, or must shut themselves up in the solitude of the plantation. The last alternative is chosen. They fall back from the rank of their former peers. They consent to associate with vulgarity, because vulgarity acknowledges their superior dignity. No more first in the senate-house, they console themselves with being the first on the race-course and in the bar-room. The consequences of the degrading exchange are obvious; all their virtues are altered into the counterpart vices. Hospitality becomes waste; liberality, sinful profusion; frankness, profanity. The decanter which before stood upon the side-board principally for the refreshment of the wea

ried stranger, is drawn upon as the planter's own solace. Yet debased and sodden as he is, all his former fire is not extinguished. Even in the midst of the low herd by whom he is willing to be surrounded, there are signs still visible which point out the man whom nature meant to be an honor to his kind.

To this class-a small class we are glad to believe-belonged Ripley Dair. Reckless towards man, and profane towards his maker, a drunkard, and well nigh a sot, he might seem a fit object for scorn and avoidance. If such a being had been observed lolling on the bench of a grog-shop in the heart of a city, none but a philanthropist would ever have tarried to bestow on him a glance of sympathy. But it was with a different feeling that we beheld him in the country, standing on his own land, on land inherited from forefathers who were found first in every noble achievement. And the man had claims in himself to a degree of respect. The steel had not quite lost its fine temper, though condemned to the vilest uses. The spirit was buried beneath a gross and earthy load, but it was there still, and like Enceladus under Etna, occasionally heaved the whole superincumbent mass. Ripley knew that he was sadly fallen, but retained the consciousness that the mire in which he grovelled was not his proper element. It must be added that the abasement which has been described was a moral abasement. As far as mere external appearances are regarded, Ripley Dair might be thought to endure comparison with many of his ancestors. Not less well-informed than they, he had a respectable share of what are called the more substantial possessions. Certainly, the master of a hundred slaves could not be charged with the damning crime of poverty.

One of his most marked characteristics was an intense dislike of the northerners who were coming to settle in the county. He seemed to feel towards them an instinctive antipathy. His sentiment was not hatred, but disgust. He was anxious to get out of their way, but to do this he must sell his land, and sell it to some northern man. Thus he was compelled for the time to subject his passion to a degree of constraint. How he chafed against this necessity may be imagined. Not only had he to tolerate the presence of those whom

his very eyes could hardly bear to look upon, but it was required of him to invite them into his house, to throw open his fields to their inspection, and, worse than all else to endure patiently every comment which the courted visitors thought proper to make.

He greeted Caleb Schrowder-whom he recognized at the first glance for a northerner-with sullen politeness, and walked with him over part of his estate. In the corner of one of the fields they found a plough lying where it had been used the fall previous. Schrowder pointing to it with his finger, remarked: "That's very careless doings, Mr. Dair-you'll never get along wherever you go unless you take care of your tools. Yet, to be sure," he added, lifting it up by the handles, "the concern is worth mighty little to work with. Bless me, how the people in York would open their eyes to see a team hitched to such a thing. I declare it is a funny sight

I don't believe even the Egyptians and Chinese and other savage islanders have any scratchin' tools to beat it."

"Sir!" said Dair, "such a plough as that was used by my father-one like it was used by Washington !"

"That may all be," replied Schrowder composedly, "it only proves that if Geneneral Washington was a smart man at some kinds of business, he had much to learn about farmin.'"

Dair suppressed the angry retort which he was on the point of uttering, and strode along moodily. They came next into a body of timber, and passed by a negro who was employed in mauling rails. "Ah," exclaimed Schrowder to the fellow," let me show you the right way to set that wedge."

Dair interposed immediately, took the wedge from his hand, and returned it to the negro, saying, "when you have bought the timber you may have it mauled in any way that pleases you. He is making my rails now, and shall do it according to my directions."

Schrowder was silent till they had walked some hundred yards further. Then laying his hand familiarly on the arm of his companion, he said, "Now don't be so touchy friend."

Dair with a sensation like that experienced when a spider or lizard is felt creeping over one's naked skin, drew off suddenly to the opposite side of the path.

"Don't be so very touchy, I say, Mr. Dair; no harm in the world is meant you. We Yorkers who come here, are not proud and stingy, we are willing to communicate our knowledge. It is not likely that you southern folks can take all our wisenessstrong meat you know, is not for babesbut we are anxious that you should have as big a share as your feebleness permits. Far from seckin' all your land, we only want to get a part of it so as to show by the discipline and educational principle of example, how you ought to manage what is left."

| such assistance," said Dair, "what is that to you?"

The thing I look at," continued Schrowder imperturbably, Schrowder imperturbably, "is this. At the very time you make such sinful waste of straw, and litter, and such sort of stuff, you are wonderfully careful to make manure of the bodies of your dead relations." "What's that you say stranger? I don't hear you rightly."

"I refer," said the other, CC to this practice of sticking your graves in the midst of orchards and cabbage-patches. Folks to the north sometimes raise flowers in the burying grounds, but we are not so hard pushed I'm thankful, as to have to look to them for our eating stuff."

66

"It is all one," returned Dair, "you are bees out of the same hive." ""

Scrowder answered reflectively, "in a certain sense we are, that's true; we are bees, sure enough, and go out in swarms. Most of us have had a habit of crossing the mountains to Ohio and Illinois, and so forth, but latterly we have discovered tolerable nice locations by choosing this course. Yes we are bees, and we'll make this land flow with the nicest of honey." "Bees?-honey?" repeated the other disdainfully.

"Yes, you said yourself that we are bees." "Did I say sothen may heaven forgive me for telling such a lie! You are locusts; and bring destruction with youarmy worms, to eat us out of house and

home!"

The circuit of the farm completed, they returned to the dwelling, and in doing so passed through the garden. In the centre of it was a grassy square, studded with upright stones, some of which bore inscriptions. Schrowder stopped abruptly, and after gazing upon it for a while from the edge, turned to his host, saying, "there's one custom of yours that surprises me more than any other. I saw a whole lot of first rate manure lying waste near your stable, and yonder on that half-acre wood-pile, there are rotted chips enough to do a quantity of good, if they were only hauled out. ""

Suppose I do not think my land wants

"Hark ye sir," exclaimed Ripley Dair,

der's sturdy nerves, "I can put up with much insolence, but there are some things which I cannot bear. What's past is past, and I will not harbor grudge for it; you have drank at my table, and been speaking on my land, but remember that if you say anywhere else what you said here just now, your relations may have occasion to pick out a burial place for your own corpse before long!"

Schrowder looked up into his face with unfeigned astonishment.

"You are not getting mad about such a thing as that surely. I didn't intend any personal reflections. Every tribe of people has its customs, and I only wanted to say that yours has some very queer ones. Just consider the matter yourself. Individuals with you can't live forever, nor can they with us; why then should there be any difference in the

Dair interrupted him, "Say no more. I am sick of your very voice. You have seen the plantation, and you know my price-tell me do you wish to buy it or not ?"

"I didn't look at it with any thought of buying," said the New Yorker frankly. "The mischief you did not! And I have been tramping about with you this half-a-day."

"Why you see Mr. Dair, Mose Hawkins

"You ought to break yourself of this selfish disposition, rejoined Schrowder, "I've got a lot of ground not far off from here, and as we are going to be neighbors, we ought to be friendly and sociable." "Sociable !" repeated Ripley Dair with

Well, he's a hard case !" muttered the visitor, who departed without another effort to establish the acquaintance. In the course of that day he had witnessed two scenes, either of which was surprising enough to furnish him with many an hour's meditation.

It was a day in mid-summer, when Sidney Everlyn's father brought her to Everstone, which was now ready to receive them in its new position. The building was not indeed quite completed. But it afforded more than enough room for that small family. Such care had been taken in the reconstruction, that it had lost nothing of the antique air which made it appear so venerable at Anderport. The marble blocks jutted out from the walls as before, and presented to the elements the same surfaces that had become dingy under the storms of seven hundred British and American winters. Everlyn, with admirable taste, had preserved just enough of the native forest trees to supply abundant shade without gloom. As you walked As you walked around the mansion, a new vista opened at each point. No unsightly stumps appeared, to wound the eye, and though the velvet lawn-an impossible achievement for a single spring-was as yet wanting, the spacious grounds exhibited so many charming features that the deficiency passed unnoticed.

The most fastidious might have been contented with such a home, yet it was to Sidney what it could not be to any one else. The hope of returning to that family seat had been her father's ruling passion. Remote from his friends, and a widower, he had no companion but her to whom he could confide the long cherished purpose, and the circumstances which, from time to time, arose to impede or advance its accomplishment. As he each night sought his lodgings, wearied by the day's labor at an uncongenial employment, he had those bright eyes to greet him, and her sympathizing ears were ever eager to learn how much nearer Everstone was then

than in the morning. The father might find his newspaper dry and unentertaining; the daughter might know moments when even her music, to which she was passionately devoted, failed to furnish its wonted solace; yet there was a theme upon which father and daughter could always converse with animation and delight.

Sidney had not grown up a recluse. She had mingled in society and been its ornament. With all her enthusiasm, she could fill her place among the most gay and mirthful. Mr. Everlyn, however, was inclined to form no associations which might disturb the memories that bound him to his native soil. He felt like one away from home temporarily, and could think but of two things-first, the business which occupied him; and, secondly, the rest that he should enjoy on returning. Sidney could be happy among her youthful companions, but she was most happy with her father. His thoughts were her thoughts, and his hopes her hopes. The pair had left Anderport, a man in the prime of his vigor and a prattling child; when they came back, the man was in the autumn of life, the child had reached the stature and bloom of womanhood. The years which had passed had been able to rob the older of little of his enthusiastic zeal, while they had bestowed a double portion on the younger.

It is hard to say which felt the deepest joy in that first night's repose under the shelter of the renovated, yet unaltered Everstone. But, no; it is not after all a matter so difficult to decide What though Everlyn grasped in that instant the reward of sixteen years' toil? what though he saw himself the independent master of that homestead which he had left in poverty?