University of Virginia Library

FORAGING PETER.

1. CHAPTER I.

The facility of acquiring wealth in this country; the numerous ways
and means by which the enterprising, the ambitious, the skilful the cunning
and the bold may rise; the countless fields for the display of every
kind of talent, keeps in constant agitation the elements of society, and
prevents the formation of a fixed aristocracy the foundation of which is
stagnation and repose. In this ocean-like restlessness, the lowest are
thrown to the surface, and every successive wave of fortune heaves up new
aspirants for wealth and name. While the elements of society are, with
us, in a state of suspension, like the alluvion of a disturbed stream, in
England they have been for centuries settled, and society there, to pursue
the figure, is like a strong rock composed of a succession of strata, presenting
a formation immovable and imposing. Time will yet effect with us
what it has in all older nations, and produce a social formation, composed
of independent strata. This will not be a recognised hereditary aristocracy,
(for society is not without an aristocracy) like that of England, but it
will be the same thing virtually. It will not be an aristocracy of wealth
so much as an aristocracy of name. That species of aristocracy based
upon wealth, so long as our laws do not recognise the right of primogeniture,
will correct itself. Its existence is intrinsically temporary, and generally
expires with the individual founder of it. But the aristocracy of
which we speak will be based upon precisely the same foundations as that
of England. The starting point of England's proudest names is the conquest.
Noble, indeed, is that family which can trace its pedigree to a
knight of the train of William the Conquerer. This is an aristocracy truly

of birth and lineage in their purest and highest acceptation, and one which
is universally recognised.

Likewise, those who attentively observe the aspects assuming by America's
best society, will not have failed to discover that there is a class forming
and daily strengthening in influence, power and wealth, the individuals
composing which trace their lineage to the old colonial governers; to exiled
cavalier families, and, by far the largest number, to the signers of the
Declaratiou of Independance, and the distinguished Generals and officers
of rank prominent in our revolution! What man, of whatever state he
be a citizen, cannot point to many such families as composing the aristocracy
at this time of their own state. It is unnecessary to mention names,
which have only to be given to receive the unanimous acquiescence of the
people at large, in proof of our position. Now of this class of eminent
names there is in germ one of the proudest aristocracies to which any nation
now existing can lay claim. It is forming and will be powerful, and
universally recognised a century hence as The American Aristocracy, a
name which will be as significant of high meaning as `English Aristocracy'
is now.

But we are not about to give the reader an essay, but a story; so, leaving
the next generation to look after the republican aristocracy which is coming
down to it, we will turn our attention to an individual of a very common
species of aristocracy of the present day, a class to be found in every city
in the land, and in every country village where there is `a rich man,' self-made.

On the ragged outskirts of a little village down east, (by which be it understood
we don't mean the State of Maine, but the region about Cape
Ann), lived a clever poor man, who supported himself and a large family
by `doing chores,' that is, ploughing about for farmers in the spring, helping
the hostler at the village Inn during the summer, mowing at harvest time,
and chopping wood for his neighbors in winter. His name was David
Dalton; but he was better known by the soubriquet of `Lame Davy,' his
gait being and extraordinary compound movement between a limp and a
jerk. His dwelling was a low wretched, unpainted, black tenement, with
a broken roof, a tumble-down chimney, and windows mended with shingles
and old clothes, a panel was out of the front door, and as the back door
had fallen from its hinges and been cut up and burned in a stormy winter's
day when Davy was out of wood, the space was now closed by rough
boards nailed together. Davy's wife was a `managing' woman for a poor
body, and managed to keep her children patched up, and give them something
to eat every day, notwithstanding Davy scarcely ever brought a four-pence-half-penny
into the house; for those he worked for generaly paid
him in a `meal' victuals' and cider and rum.

One blowy, blustering night in January, in a wretched apartment eight
feet by ten, Davy's wife gave birth to her sixth child who in due time was

named, (for we cannot asseverate that he was ever christened) Peter, in
honor of Peter Drew the village grocer; in return for which Davy looked
to receive on occasion sundry favors, such as a quart of molasses, a quarter
of tea, a pound of candles, or a string of herring. Contrary to the custom
of thriving people where poor children are named after them, Peter Drew
took it kindly and every little while would delight his father by asking after
the welfare of his `little namesake.'

Little Peter throve through his weaning as his brothers and sisters had
done, after his eighth month taking pretty much all the care of himself
that ever was taken of him. His favorite companions were the pigs, chickens,
and an old tabby cat of the next door neighbors; and as early as his
fourteenth month he had so initiated himself into the favor of Farmer
Cowden's barn-dog `Bolt.' alongside of whom, after tottling up the yard to
kennel, he would lay stretched in the sun half of a long summer's day,
when the genrous mastiff would always leave a bone of his own bountiful
dinner unpicked for him. Besides this assistance little Davy managed very
adroitly to abstract half of tabby's supper every day, and to cheat the poultry
out of a good share of the crumbs the farmer's maid threw to them.
Thus he throve mainly, and began early to take lessons in personal independance;
figurative to look after number one.

By the time little Peter had attained his third year, `Lame Davy,' so far
as his maintenance was concerned, may have considered his hopeful son as
fairly entered upon the world; that is, having taken upon himself his own
maintenance. The young forager knew the precise moments of meal-time
at every neighbor's table within houses either side of his father's; and
what with getting a slice of bread and butter at one, or a chicken's leg at
another, the gift accompanied with `Here Peter, there's a bone!' to the naked-legged
infant as he poked his carroty head in at the door, the little
scamp of a pensioner grew fat and flourished.

At length when he had reached his ninth year his father sent him to the
town or free-school, to keep him out of mischief; on which occasion Peter
Drew, the grocer, presented his namesake with a spelling book, the boy was
smart, and shrewd, and intelligent enough, and learned fast. At the age of
fourteen, the grocer took him into his store as an assistant, and the result
showed the judiciousness of his choice. From this period young Peter began
to distinguish himself by an extraordinary ambition to be rich. Acquisitiveness
was one of the largest of his phrenological organs, next to self-esteem.
He became a valuable adjunct to the grocer, serving him and
making him no small portion of his income.

As the moral and religous education of our hero had been little regarded
by his parents, he had very little reverence for practised honesty; he
cheated, when he could safely, the immorality of it consisting in being
“found out.” At the age of twenty one Mr. Drew took him into co-partnership,
by which time Peter's father and mother had paid their debt to nature,

with all of his brothers and sisters, who, less skilled in providing for themselves,
had pined and starved, became diseased and died ere the eldest had
had reached his twelfth year. Peter, therefore may be said to have saved
his own life by his superior skill in foraging. This talent he carried with
him into his business, and by picking here and picking there, driving sharp
trades, and taking advantage of men's ignorance, he soon began to lay up
money. By and by Peter Drew fell sick and died, without a will. His
business and property being all in the hands of his partner, the settlement
showed greatly to the surprise of every body (for Peter Drew was thought
to have accumulated great riches) that the heir, who was a poor widowed
sister, would not realize more than fifty dollars; which sum Peter Dalton
paid over to her in person. People shook their heads, and Peter finding
that he was not only unpopular, but that men had no confidence in him, and
that he was too well known there, from his origin upwards, ever to hope to
get into `good society,' which he now aspired to, he resolved to dispose of
his store and stock, and move to Boston and there establish himself in
business.

He came to Boston with seven thousand dollars in cash, and worth in
real-estate situated in his native village, to an equal amount. Here he soon
found a person well established in the wholesale grocery business, who was
willing to receive him as a partner. The new firm with the additional capital
and force extended its operations. Peter, whose ambition to rise in the
world was ever uppermost, soon found on looking about him, that `merchants,'
must own vessels before they can take rank among the leading
men of business. He therefore entered into the shipping business, and
freighted a brig to St. Thomas. His enterprise was successful, and he next
chartered and dispatched a ship to New Orleans for cotton to freight to
Liverpool. The frofits of the home cargo was beyond his expectations. He
now, with his partner built a ship and sent her to India.

His business now grew upon his hands, and his ship returning after a
prosperous voyage, be resolved to build a second, and also to transfer his
business from Long Wharf near the T, to Central Wharf; as being a more
`respectable' location, and, as he said, offering greater facilities for his extended
business operations.

Six years had now elapsed since Peter came to Boston, and he found himself
already a richer man than any body he had left behind in his native
village. But he found that he was by no means rich for Boston. He was of
an aspiring spirit, and inwardly resolved that he would yet be called RICH
on `Change.' He therefore brought all his genius of acquisitiveness into
action to contribute to this desirable result. Successful voyages to India,
and round the `Horn,' were sure and pleasant ways of adding to his eighty
thousand dollars, which he now set down as the minimum of his wealth;
but he was ambitious to increase it yet faster by some bold enterprise. The
idea of marriage happily came into his head, and he resolved to look out

and marry a rich wife. Peter was now in his thirty-fourth year, and though
by no means an Adonis, was presentable. It is true his manners were
rather vulgar, and he was rather sanguinary with the king's English, and he
seldom washed his hands or cleansed his teeth; but gold is a rare refiner of
vulgarity, a panacea for wounded grammar, and will adorn unwashed
hands and gild filthy teeth. Therefore when he offered himself to Miss
Appollonia Bulley, the only daughter of his friend Ira Bulley, of the firm
of Bulley & Broadnax, Ship Chandlers, India Street, he was accepted, and
in due time led the fair maid to the altar. Peter, however, was too wise,
foolishly to marry a fortune still in the father's pockets; for the match being
every way desirable in the eyes of Mr. Bulley, who foresaw in his future
son-in-law one of the richest men in Boston, he settled upon his daughter
on the morning of her marriage, fifty-thousand dollars.

This was a very handsome `operation,' for Peter, and he himself thought
so as he came out of the Suffolk Bank after having transfered this amount
from Ira Bulley's name to his own.

It now became Peter to look out for a dwelling house; and as his ambition
was to get into good society he determined to take one in Colonnade
Row, this being in his estimation a very stylish part of the town. His wife
thought so also; and accordingly a house was rented there, and furnished
in a very showy manner for Mrs. Appollonia Dalton was, in her own notion
a very fashionable person, her great aunt, who was an English woman,
having been first cousin to a Sir George Somebody. It this connexion, and
her own and her husband's money, did not make her rank among the best
society in Boston, pray what considerations should we ask? But it was a
long time before the Boston aristocracy could think so, and then only when
Peter had got to owning several ships, stores and dwellings, and so identified
himself in business with the first merchants of wealth and intelligence
that they could hardly avoid extending to his family (for he had several
children) the courtesies of social life. So at length, therefore, Peter got to
the top bent of his ambition, and was called rich on `Change,' and his wife
was invited to parties in Beacon Street.

To Mrs. Dalton the day on which she received the ticket to her first party
in that aristocratic quarter was an era. She was by no means a lady of
natural refinement, though she had advantages of birth and education to
which Peter had no pretension. Her mother had been a lawyer's daughter,
and her father was a Deacon's son, and he himself had been a colonel in
the militia. Miss Appollonia, therefore, had some pretensions. She had
received the usual “piano-forte education” of her class, and considered
herself quite “accomplished,” and no doubt with her money, she thought
herself “as good as any.” She had certain country cousins, and other poor
relations, to whom she made it a point never to allude to nor hold and correspondence
with. Among these was a Mr. Henry Decker, a poor book-loving
young man who sixteen years ago, just before she married Petor,

had come up to Cambridge and entered as a beneficiary at Harvard. Though
proud of having a cousin in college, she was mortified at having a relation
educated from a benevolent fund, and when he called to visit his uncle, as
he did once or twice during his first term, they treated him with a rudeness
that marked their ill breeding and contemptible pride. He went through
his course of studies with great credit, and after he graduated, paid a visit
to Boston, to say farewell to his rich cousin who had now been two years
Mrs. Dalton. Peter had been already informed of this poor relation of his
wife's, who had been educated by a charity fund, and when his wife now
took him aside in the hall and told him that he had probably come to ask
him to do something to start him in the world, and that the best way to get
rid of him was not to ask him to dinner, he took her spirit and entered into
her wishes so fully, that the insulted young graduate, a very amiable excellent
man, left the house in disgust, resolved never to enter it again.

They heard of him from time to time, as keeping school in his native
town and studying law, but truth to tell, gave themselves very little trouble
about him. In the meanwhile they waxed rich, and, by degrees got themselves
claimed among the “rich people” of Boston. By this unnatural
elevation above their suitable and natural condition in life (for claims to
good society, should be measured by mind and refinement, and not by
money and impudence) exposed them both, to innumerable mortifications
consequent upon their ignorance of the laws of their present condition,
and their grovelling affinity with their previous one which embittered their
triumph and made them contemptible in the eyes of those whose favor
they were nervously solicitous to obtain. Peter also had visits from poor
relations, whom he had never heard of before, but who were keen-scented
in finding him out now that he had got rich; but as he aspired to be thought
of good family and hated whatever was calculated to remind him of his
low origin, he gave them such reception as left them little inclination to
call again to see him. In everything Peter and his wife were well mated,
but in nothing did they more cordially agree than in their hatred of their
poor relations. They lived in horror of their country cousins, and one day
Peter seeing the `poor student', on the opposite side of the street, hastened
home and bade his wife shut the front of the house and see herself whenever
the bell rang, that he was not admitted; for they expected an alderman
and his wife, and the rich Mr. F— and his wife to tea that evening; and
they trembled lest Henry Decker's presence might disgrace their gentility
in the eyes of such stylish people. When, however, Mr. Peter Dalton, got
back to his counting room, who will paint his surprise and displeasure at
seeing there his wife's cousin, in a well brushed seedy hat, and black threadbare
coat (the very personification of a poor scholar) waiting his arrival.
But the events that followed this meeting, are of sufficient importance to
deserve a place in a part by itself, which will be found below.

2. CHAPTER II.
The Schoolmaster and India Merchant.

`How do you do, Mr. Dalton? How is cousin Appollonia?' was the salutation
of the threadbare scholar to the rich India merchant, as, doubtful
whether to turn about and run away or enter his counting-room, he stood
hesitating upon its threshold.

Now, to a man so purse-proud, and who was at all times so solicitous to
`cut' poor relations, whether his own or his wife's, as Peter Dalton, this was
a familiarity of address, coupled, as it was, with the levelling word `cousin,'
which was exceedingly distasteful to his pride and self-respect. Looking
furtively round to see if his clerks had overheard the word, he seemed
relieved to observe that they were all busy. He then, without replying,
stepped back towards the outer door, and beckoned Henry Decker to him.
This person slightly smiled and obeyed the sign, well understanding its
motive. Mr. Decker was now a pale, intellectual-looking man, about thirty-eight
years of age. Born of poor parents, educated as a beneficiary, he
was, up to this time, poor. He had studied the law, keeping a school at
the same time, after quitting college, but a natural diffidence and sensitiveness
deterred him from ever practising at the bar. He, therefore, continued
to keep school, and had now for sixteen years been teacher of the
academy in his native village. His income was small and afforded him few
luxuries of life; but these to him were books, in selecting a library of which
he expended every dollar his sustenance and wardrobe did not necessarily
lay claim to. Fond of study, and happy in his profession as a teacher, this
poor but respectable person passed his life without care, and commanding
the respect of all whose regard was of any value. Though, like Peter Dalton,
of an obscure family, education, as it ever does, had refined his manners
and made him a gentleman intuitively.

As he now appeared before the rich merchant, there was nothing in his
appearance that Peter need be ashamed of. It is true he looked like a decayed
gentleman, but GENTLEMAN he evidently was to every eye but Peter's.
But Mr. Dalton knew him to be poor; and as poverty in any one, much
more in a relation, was unpardonable in his eyes, he believed all others
would look upon him just as he did, and that their contempt for him would
be reflected upon himself. He therefore resolved to get rid of him as speedily
as possible. So, after glancing his eye over his neat but well worn and

often patched attire, he said in a pompous tone, as if a man's gold should
make him superior to him who possesses a mine of intellect which eternity
will ever be working and never exhaust.

`So, Mr. Decker, you have come to Boston again. I should suppose for
a poor man a trip from Framingham to Boston so often would be expensive.'

`It is something so, cousin,' said Mr. Decker, with an emphasis on the
last word; for he was not blind to Peter's failing, and having a vein of quiet
humor in his composition, he was willing to indulge it; `but I cannot be
said to come often, as this is but the fourth time in twelve years. I am glad
to find you looking so well and are prospering.'

`Humph!' ejaculated Peter to himself; `he thinks I am prospering for
the benefit of his pocket. But he'll get no money of me.' And he involuntarily
buttoned up his coat, and looked a whole Board of Bank Directors
refusing to discount paper for a man they suspect not to be `good.'

Henry Decker smiled, for he plainly read his thought: and Peter replied
aloud,

`Hard times, sir! no money! Banks refuse to discount! Pray excuse
me, sir, I have to see a broker on 'Change, and I am five minutes past the
hour;' he added, taking out and displaying, ostentatiously, a massive gold
watch, loaded with seals.

`I—I am sorry to detain you, cousin, but I have a small favor to ask of
you.'

`I thought so,' growled the merchant in an under tone. Poor relations
are natural beggars—born to annoy and disgrace people. `I have no time!'
he said gruffly.

`But, it may be for your interest to listen to me a moment,' said Mr. Decker,
unmoved. `But, if you are now so busy, I will call another time.'

`The word `interest,' coupled with the individual personal pronoun, when
aimed at Peter's ears, never failed to penetrate. He stopped, and said in a
tone less caustic—`Oh, if it be a matter of business, Mr. Decker, that alters
the case,' and at the same time he wondered what could be the nature
of any business which the schoolmaster could have with him. `I will let
the broker wait, if you will be expeditious.'

`As this is a personal family matter, perhaps it would be as well to be
where we could be uninterrupted for a few moments,' said Henry Decker
in a quiet way; for hitherto they had been standing in the door in front,
and through which busy people were continually hurrying.

The rich man stared at the boldness of such a suggestion from a poor relation,
but his acquisitiveness being awakened by the word `interest,' he
said, apologetically for his supreme condescension, as he led the way to an
inner connting room—

`This must be some extraordinary matter, Mr. Decker, to require this
privacy;' and then the idea came over him that he wanted to borrow some

money of him; but it occuring very reasonably to his mind that such an
operation could not be mutually for their interest, he rejected the suspicion
and closing the door as he was wont to do in consultation with men of business,
he waited with a serene eye for the schoolmaster's communication.
To a spectator too distant to detect the threadbare condition of his black
suit, Mr. Decker was the gentleman of the store, and Peter some vulgar
fellow in his employ, dressed up in a Sunday coat, for Peter always wore
shining broadcloth, as well he might; it was all the gentleman he could lay
claim to.

`You are aware, Mr. Dalton,' said Henry Decker, after he had taken the
chair Peter directed him with his eye to occupy, `that my cousin, Appollonia—'

Here the wealthy India Merchant gravely interrupted him:

`Mr. Decker, it might be very well, perhaps, if you were a brother, even
in your humble situation, to make use of the term signifying the relationship;
but for one who is but a cousin to Mrs. Dalton, and in such a different
condition in society, to be constantly dragging in his cousinship by the
ears and tail, is going a little too far.'

`I beg your pardon, sir, and that of Mrs. Dalton,' said Henry Decker,
successfully assuming the look of a man who felt the reproof; `I trust I
shall not so far forget myself a second time.'

`I hope not. You know riches kills, or ought to, all relationship. I
would not acknowledge my own father, if he were alive and should come
into my counting room in open day, and any body was in it.'

`No? I have heard your father was poor and humble, but I did not
know before that he was such a very low fellow.' said Henry dryly, and
with the keenest irony, yet looking as simple as a child.

The merchant colored, and tried, though not very successfully, to correct
the impression made by his unlucky speech. He felt deeply the sarcasm of
the poor scholar, and for a moment there was an awkward silence, during
which the student pulled from his coat pocket a well-worn newspaper,
which after opening, and laying his finger on a paragraph, he said,

`As I began to remark, you are aware Mr. Dalton, that your wife and
myself are cousins-german.'

`I need not be reminded of it, sir,' replied the merchant freezingly.

`She is the daughter of Ira Bulley, and I, the son of Ann Bulley, his sister
who was married to Edward Decker, a sea-captain.'

`No doubt your genealogy is very interesting to yourself, Mr. Decker,'
said Peter coldly, `but I beg to remind you that a merchant's time is his
money. You were to show me something for my interest.'

`And if you will be patient, Mr. Dalton I will redeem my pledge,' said
Henry Decker quietly. `Ira Bulley, who is now deceased, and my mother
who is with God, were the only children of James Bulley, who was the
only child of Andrew Brown Bulley, who was an officer of the customs

under the colonial government. His father was Thomas Bulley an English—'

Here Peter sprung from his chair with indignant contempt.

`What are your Tom Bulls and your Brown Bulls, and your English
Bulls to me sir? If you have nothing better to entertain yourself with
this folly, I beg leave to bid you a very good morning!' and Mr. Dalton
made three decided strides towards the door and laid his hand upon the
knob. Henry Decker did not move, but looked as if he expected to be
heard out. Peter saw his manner was imposing as if something did really
lie at the bottom of all this, and resuming his chair with a force that nearly
dislocated it, said peevishly:

`If you have anything to say of importance to me, pray out with it.'

`If you had not interrupted me, I should now have got through.'

`Then go on, and the better speed to it will make better welcome.'

`This Thomas Bulley, the GREAT grandsire of your wife and of myself,
(I beg pardon for this necessary conjunction of my name with hers) we
have been taught by an indistinct tradition, was the younger son of a nobleman,
but of what rank or name was not handed down.'

`Yes, yes, I have heard something of the relationship of my wife's to a
noble family,' said Peter trying to look indifferent to the honor, which it
was plain he hugged to his bosom: `but he is the true nobleman, sir, let
me tell you, who has made his own fortune, and inherited nothing from
posterity.'

`Ancestry, doubtless you mean,' said the school master dryly, `well sir,
this may be the opinion of some men, especially those who have been the
builders of their own name,—who like you have risen from obscurity and
the dregs of society.'

`Do you mean to insult me in my own counting room?' said Peter
angrily.

`I am but commenting upon your own text, and did not mean to give
offence. You were boasting of making your own name, and certainly did
but little while ago, give me to understand that your father was such a disreputable
person that you would not openly recognise him, were he living.
This was spoken so calmly, yet so firmly, that Peter could say nothing; and
Henry Decker having succeeded in his wish of humbling his purse-proud
relation, continued:

`My object in now coming to Boston is, as we are mutually interested, at
least in the honor of the annexion, to show you this paragraph, and consult
with you as to the steps necessary to be taken in the premises.'

Here Peter's eyes brightened up, and he began to show signs of being
interested, and the scholar read as follows from the newspaper, which
Peter saw to his surprise was a copy of the London Times.

`We learn that the recent decree of Lord Aylmer has left this ancient
title without any lineal representation, his lordship having died a bachelor.

The vast estates and title of this Earldom will, therefore, have to pass collaterally.
It is not yet ascertained at the Herald's College who will inherit,
but it is certain the descent will be to a remote branch, of which we learn
there is no representation left in England. The family name is Bouillie,
the origin being Norman. The line failing in the person of the late Earl,
will have to reascend to a younger brother, five descents back, who, on account
of some difference of his elder brother with him, for marrying beneath
himself, quit England in disgust, and, it is known, went to the New
England Colony, where he died about the time of the revolutionary outbreak,
leaving heirs of his body. Some one descended from this Thomas
Bouillie; if any in the male line shall be found by the College of Heralds,
will succeed to the vacant Earldom. It is said the Lord Chancellor is pursuing
measures to have the true heir brought to light, and that the primary
steps usual in such cases, are already taken.'

Henry Decker having finished reading this announcement, cast his eyes
upon the merchant, who had listened with evident interest, and who when
he had done said,

`Let me see that paper, Mr. Decker. Ah, this name is spelled Bouille,'
he said with a look of disappointment; `your mother's was Bulley. At the
first I thought you and my wife might be interested in this business. But
the two names are very different.'

`In spelling, but not in sound. And nothing is more frequent than to
find the orthography of old English names changed after their importation
to this country.'

`Poh, poh! there is nothing in it,' said Peter, contemptuously. `But
where did you come by that London paper?' he asked, his commercial eye
running over the `Shipping' and `Price Currents.'

`In our village is an English gardener, a very intelligent and respectable
person, who has a London paper sent to him occasionally by a brother who
is living there. He has always been so civil as to send me the paper after
reading it; and last week as I was perusing this copy of the Times, my
eye lit upon this paragraph, the reading of which gave me no little surprise,
and excited in me some ambition to make an effort to climb to the
promised distinction—for I am the only male heir to Thomas Bulley.'

`If this should be so, of which I do not believe a word, and the descent
is in the male line, how, I want to know, my Lord Bulley, is my wife to
benefit by it.'

`By elevation of rank. She would become a countess by right I think
certainly in courtesy as being an Earl's sister! Besides, should I die without
an heir, your eldest son would succeed to the title!'

For a moment Peter's head was giddy with the vision presented to his
ambition and pride. The idea that his wife might become a countess, and
his son a lord, dazzled him! But it was only while the titles were tinkling
in his ears. The schoolmaster, in his threadbare coat before him, had first

to become an English Earl before these dazzling dreams would be realized;
and when he thought how little probability there was of that, he laughed
with a sardonic aspect, and said contemptuously—

`This is all very well to amuse children with, Mr. Decker, and you had
best go back and astonish your scholars with the tale. So long as Bulley
and Bouillie are two different names, Henry Decker and an English nobleman
will be two different personages.'

Thus speaking the merchant rose and was going out, when the scholar
detained him:

`I am positive the names are identical.'

`But how can you prove your title to the Lord Chancellor?' retorted Peter,
scornfully. `I will have nothing to do with it.'

`I shall have no difficulty if—' Here the schoolmaster hesitated.

`If what?' growled the merchant, half guessing what was coming. If,'
continued Henry Decker, without regarding his chilly manner, `if I could
obtain a loan of sufficient funds, say three hundred dollars, to enable me
to take passage to England and lay my proofs before the proper court.

`I would have sworn money was at the bottom after all!' snarled the
merchant; `but I have no money to spare, Mr. Decker, and if I had, I have
no faith in your pretensions.'

`But—'

`What security can you offer?' he demanded with a malicious sneer.

`None save that the chances of my success more than counterbalance
the risk!'

`I have no money to give away! If you want money you must go to
them as can afford to heave it away on fools. You have no more chance
of proving yourself heir to that dead lord than I have of being king of
Congo. I have trifled away too much time with you, or rather you have
trifled too much of it away with me, and I bid you a very good day my
lord.'

Thus addressing him, he threw open the door of the counting room and
stood by it until Mr. Decker came out. He then accompanied him to the
door and bade him good day, adding:

`I will not fail to remember your lordship to the countess at home, and
especially to my son the hopeful Lord Isaac.'

Henry Decker took all the rudeness of the rich man, with that quiet dignity
which consciousness of superiority made him feel, and without showing
anger or cringing fear, calmly left the store of the India merchant.

He took his way directly towards the Probate Court for the purpose of
examining its ancient records, where he was confident from the coincidence
of facts studied in the Times paper, he should find his mother's name
spelled differently from its present modern orthography.

He obtained access to the records he wished to examine, and after a long
search as far back as the year 1764, and to his delighted surprise, he found

the name of Thomas Bouillie as the executor of a will. An e was wanting
to make the name similar to that in the Times. It now occurred to
him that if Thomas Bouillie was of sufficient condition and estate to be appointed
executor of a will, he might have had property, and left a will himself.
At length after a long and laborious search he found such a will and
appended to it in a good bold hand, the signature of Thomas Bouillie.
On reading it, he saw that the testator declared himself, `of Aylmershire,
England, Gent.'

`This is clear enough,' exclaimed the school-master. `This Thomas
Bouillie was that brother of Lord Aylmer named in the paragraph in the
newspaper. Now to prove myself his lineal descent. I am no lawyer,
and have little means to pay one, nevertheless I must consult one; for
though I am certainly his only living male descendant, I must prove the
fact before the Chancery Court of England, for which, I shall not certainly
apply to my purse-proud ignorant cousin!'

It so chanced that there was an eminent lawyer in Boston whose son
during a summer's visit at a relations in the country, had been a pupil of
Henry Decker. Of him he now thought, and knowing him to be as honest
and upright as he was learned and able, he determined to call on him and
lay the whole matter open before him. With this resolution, he left the
Court of Probate, taking with him a brief minute of what facts he there
gathered in relation to Thomas Bouillie, and was soon closeted with the
intelligent lawyer he had selected for his legal adviser.

The reader who is sufficiently interested in the progress of the events of
this narrative is refered for their result to the sequel of the present story,
which will be found in chapter III.

3. CHAPTER III.
THE “POOR COUSIN,” OR THE COUNTESS IN PROSPECTIVE.

The slumbering family pride and innate female ambition of the wife of
the India merchant, when she was informed by him at night, of the business
upon which her cousin had called at his counting room, was at once
awakened; and so far from mocking with Peter the high pretensions of the
poor scholar, she at once expressed herself sanguine of success.

`Why should'nt I get to be a Countess, I should like to know,' she said
warmly, `as well as other folks in America have done who have inherited
titles? I always told you we ought to hold up our heads with the highes
of the Otis's, and Quiney's, and Sears's, for I had come of a noble
family.'

`All ever I heard of your nobility was, that you have had a great aunt that
was first cousin to Sir—somebody,' said Peter, not a little vexed to find
his opinion opposed.

`Yes, but we did'nt know certain about it. I thought it was a great aunt;
but now as you say, my cousin says, it must have been my great grandfather,
who was youngest brother to this dead Lord —, Lord who was
it?'

`The Lord Harry for that matter,' retorted Peter kicking his boot off with
vehemence, for this conversation took place as the couple were preparing
for bed; if he had tried to gull me with the belief that he was heir to the
British throne, you would in some way have managed to make out your
relationship with the royal family.'

If Peter had not got angry, but had quietly argued the matter with her,
she might have entered fully into his notions of the vanity of Henry Decker's
hopes. But opposition only made her more determined to take up the
position her husband opposed, merely from the spirit of contention which
sometimes posesses loving wives.

`You are low in birth and breeding, Mr. Dalton,' she said passionately,
`and it is not to be expected you should have them high `spirations which

elevate the minds of them as is born with some blood in their veins. I
married beneath myself, I did, when I married you! I am sure if I ever
should get to be a countess I should be ashamed to acknowledge you for
my husband in English society!'

`The devil you would,' said Peter in great rage, and elevating the boot-jack,
it was the turn of a penny that he did not let it fly across the hearth
at her head which she was adorning with papallotee for the night. But it
in time bethought the irratated husband that it would not read very well
in the morning's paper, how that `Peter Dalton Esq. East India merchant
was bound over to keep the peace, having broken his wife's head with a
boot-jack.'. And Peter let the weapon fall, as his wife, said significantly:

`I guess you'd better.'

Here open war ceased, and silent sullen hostilities continued for the rest
of the night.

The next morning while Peter was waiting for his breakfast, his wife
entered with looks of pleasure and triumph, lugging in an old escrutoire
which, after thrusting aside the plates from the breakfast-table she laid
upon it with an emphasis. Peter looked up from the newspaper he was
reading, with a surprised and enquiring glance at her, and then at the writing
desk, and not a little gratified to find that this eruption was now new
demonstration of hostilities; for since the last night peace had not been
restored. But as Peter was always willing to hail and recognize the first
signs of returning peace on his wife's visage, no sooner saw that she was
smiling, and had evidently some important and pleasing matter to communicate,
which a certain paper held in her hand was to aid, then he laid down
his paper, and said in a cheery tone:

`Well, what now wife?'

(Here be it parenthetically recorded, that long-trained, old, broken
couples, do not resort after a squabble, to a sort of treaty of peace, to mutual
explanations, tender criminations, kisses and embraces, and the ten thousand
loving endearments which signalise the `making up,' of younger married
folks, and which such seem to think is always necessary before things
will flow on with their former unruffled current. Peter and his wife had
had many a hard quarrel in their day, and five minutes after Peter would
ask for a little more sugar in his coffee, as if nothing had happened; and
in this wise way peace was restored without any foolish treaty. Let younger
couples follow their example!)

`Well, what now wife?' asked Peter cheerily.

`You said,' responded the lady with a smile, and placing her finger on
the packet of papers before her, `that we had no claim at that lordyship in
London, because that name was spelt different from my father's! Now I
knew I had in this old desk, some old letters, some of which grandmother
said had been written by grandpa's grandfather to his wife. I have never

had time or cared to read 'em, and so they have laid in the desk till now.
But when you said if it could be proved that the family name was Bouillie,
we might stand some chance, I thought of these letters; and here all the
morning I have been looking them over, and what do you think I have
found? That the name signed to all these letters is Thomas Bouillie!
Now look for yourself, Mr. Dalton.'

Thus speaking the happy countess in futuro placed in his hands the
packet of old letters. The merchant took them with a look between hope
and surprise—for his ambition was awakened to be proved the husband of
a countess. His quick mercantile eye went over the letters with rapid inspection,
and after a few minutes silent examination of them; the signature
contents, and marks of age, he rose from his chair with a hop, and turning
a pirouette on his heel, sat down again. But he said nothing for the lapse
of some seconds, and then exclaimed emhpatically:

`Upon my soul, Mrs. Dalton, this begins to look like a pretty fair business
operation! After all, your schoolmaster cousin may not be the fool I took
him to be. This certainly looks as if it were likely to turn out a profitable
speculation!'

`Then you think Henry will get it?' exclaimed Mrs Dalton delightedly.
`Oh! wont this be a triumph! I the first cousin to an English lord!'

`And if he should chance to die without marrying, our little Isaac will
be a lord,' continued Peter, carried away by the glittering visions of greatness
with which this discovery of the proper way of Bulley filled his
mind.

`How I will crow over the aristocratic Mrs. —, and the proud-headed
Mrs. —, and the haughty Mrs. General —'

`I think we will move to England!' said Peter.

`Oh would'nt that be heavenly!' exclaimed the Countess Appollonia
clasping her hands and lifting her white blue eyes enthusiastically heavenward.
`Oh, we must ask cousin Henry to dine with us. Lord! I wonder
what will be his title?'

`Lord Aylmer, the paper said.'

`And I the Countess of Alemare? How aristocratic' We must certainly
have my cousin Henry to dine with us!'

`I shall have to loan him the money if I do,' said Peter suddenly looking
very grave, as he always did when money was directly or indirectly the
subject.

Here Mrs. Dalton's countenance also fell six degrees; for it there was
any one who loved money next to the rich India merchant it was his wife.
She was close, avaricious, and meanly parsimonious. Money was the
means by which she and her husband had got into society; it was their
title of honor; their testimony of worth in the world's eyes, to diminish it
was in the same ration to fall. It was their escutcheon; and a knight
would as soon have blotted out any one of the insigna of the exploits of his

ancestors graven on his shield, as the pillars which supported his own name
and rank, as Peter Dalton or his wife to consent to the withdrawal, without
`undoubted security,' of a single dollar from the pillars of their own respectability.
As the nightly noble could point to his coat of arms for the
ground of his pretensions to rank; so could Peter point to his bank books
as the basis of his own!

`Mrs. Dalton's countenance fell, therefore, when Peter alluded to the appalling
condition upon which they could purchase the honor of the future
lord's company at dinner. She was silent a moment:

`Then he really has no money to go to England,' she at length asked
scornfully;—for to have no money in her eyes was to be despicable. `I
did not think of that!'

`The money will have to come out of me, if we encourage him. He
may or may not be the heir. He firmly believes he is; and I begin to be inclined
to the same opinion. He will, therefore, being so earnest, find some
other way of getting money. I will not risk it to him.'

`But if he should not be able to get it, then I might lose the chance of
proving myself relative to this noble family,' said she, pride and avarice
struggling together at her heart. `It would be a pity to be noble and not
have the world know it!'

`I should like it as well as you, wife, if I could bring it about without
risking anything. It is a difficult matter to prove descent back five generations.
He will have to take with him the strongest possible evidence; and
that will cost him something to get beforehand! He will want at least five
hundred dollars; and I positively, this matter aside, would not loan him five
dollars to keep him out of the work house.'

`Nor would I, Mr. Dalton; for a man has no business to be poor and
shame his rich relations! But then if it could be managed without our advancing
any thing! But I don't see that it can! I wouldn't ask him to dinner.'

`No—its best to let him alone! There may be a mistake all about the
matter, and give once an invitation here, we shall never get rid of him; and
so if there is nothing in this at least, we should be the losers!'

`That's true. But I am sure there is no mistake! I always told you I
was descended from a noble English family, and I know there is no mistake.
Now, if Henry could only prove it all!'

`There's the rub wife,' said Peter emphatically.

`I hope he'll get money and go to England,' she said sighing as she
thought of the little possibility there was of her ever being saluted by the
agreeable title of Countess of Alemare. `I confess with you it would be a
risk to advance it.'

`I assure you I never loaned a dollar without sacurity and I never will;'
said Peter with mercantile firmness `It is no way of doing business I assure
you!' and thus speaking the merchant rose to go the wharf. `Let us leave

this matter with Decker,' he said he was going out; `he'll find somebody to
loan him the money. I think he had best see these papers, at any rate;
they will help him and may drive him ahead to gain his object. I will take
these with me, and find him and give them to him. It will show that I take
an interest in his success and he may forget my refusing him the money.'

The foregoing communication has, perhaps, sufficiently illustrated the
characters of the India merchant and his wife; it exhibits avarice and niggardly
parsimony struggling with ambition of a distinction' which can only
be purchased at a slight sacrifice of their sordid love of gold. But (to moralize
for a couple of paragraphs) the same principle of action though on a
scale immeasurably greater—the same narrow motives sway half mankind
who that it may hold on the present world risks its hopes of one more
glorious! who rather than sacrifice a little here to gain much there, hold on
to their much gain here, and there sacrifice all!

On his way from his counting-room in the afternoon Peter met Henry
Decker, who had first terminated a long consultation with his friend
the lawyer, was now seeking his lodgings at the Elm Tavern.

`Oh, ah, Mr. Decker,' said the merchant blandly and taking him by the
button familiarly; I am sorry that the hard times will not let me assist you
in your views with a loan; but to show you that I am not indifferent to
your success I have at your disposal certain papers, discovered by my wife,
which I find establishes the identity of the name of Bulley with that of
Bouillie. They were original letters of Thomas Bouillie my wife's ancestor.

`I am greatly indebted to you,' said Henry Decker after glancing his eyes
over the letters and discovering that they would serve to strengthen the testimony
he was accumulating.

`If you succeed, I hope you will not forget my little assistance in this
way,' said the merchant.

`I shall not fail to remember you,' said Henry with ill-concealed irony.
`I am happy to inform you that through the assistance of a friend I shall be
able to leave for England in the first packet!'

`Ah, indeed!' exclaimed Peter with astonishment, and wondering how a
man so manifestly a poor man could borrow a dollar any where. `Who
has advanced you?' he asked curiously.

`Mr. — —,' replied the scholar quietly, yet watching the effect of
his answer upon the surprised and mortified visage of Peter.

`What, the great lawyer?'

`Yes; I went to the records of wills after leaving your counting-room
and found there the will of Thomas Bouillie my ancestor with his name appended
to it spelled after the English fashion. I then waited on Mr —
and laid before him my claim and the facts I had gathered to substantiate
it. He examined the papers and was so sanguine that I could prove my
pretensions that —'

`He advanced you the money.'

`Most generously and freely.'

`You did not show me papers and proofs. Mr. Decker, or I might not have
refused you!' said Peter apologetically. `All I had was a newspaper account
and your own word that you was the man.'

`It is of no consequence, Mr. Dalton, said Henry, not concealing the
proud smile that mantled his fine intellectual face.

`Then you leave in the next packet?' remarked Peter sorry that he had
not let him have the money; for as he had that day thought about his claim,
the firmer was his belief that, if proper steps were taken that he might substantiate
them; and now when he found that through the kindness of a
stranger these steps were entered upon and the requisite money advanced
he felt very sure.

To make amends for it he invited Henry to come and dine with him the
next day; but the schoolmaster civilly declined, pleading an engagement to
dine with his lawyer! Peter was vexed and after again reminding him that
he had placed these important letters in his possession, he left him (Henry
Decker first taking the leave) muttering that `he didn't believe Lawyer
— would ever see his money again, and that in his opinion (Peter well
knew he lied against his conscience) he did not believe any thing would ever
come of it, and he was glad he had not risked his money like that fool
Mr. —

The papers given Henry Decker, on being examined by the lawyer,
proved of the last importance. They were he said of a character that
would be, aided by collateral evidence in possession of Mr. Decker, admitted
into any court in christendom as proof of the facts desired to be substantiated.

The third day after his first interview with his lawyer, Henry Decker had
got ready all the legal documents necessary not only to prove the identity
of Thomas Bouillie of Boston with the Thomas Bouillie the younger brother
of the Lord Aylmer; but also the proofs of his own lenial descent from
the Thomas Bouillie of Boston.

A few mornings after the wealthy merchant's last dissatisfactory interview
with the poor schoolmaster, his eye which had been nervously watching
for the announcement for the last two or three papers, lit upon the following
paragraph:

`Sailed yesterday the ship Kentucky, Rogers, for Liverpool. Passengers,
Henry Decker, Esq., and others.'

`Well he's really off at last,' he said with a long drawn sigh as if relieved
from a state of suspense. He may get it, and then I think,' he added elevating
his forehead, and trying to look like a gentleman (for he was only an
aper.) `I rather think I shall hold up my head with the best of 'em!' And
Peter Dalton took three strides across the breakfast room, and once more
read over the name of his wife's cousin. For ten minutes the newspaper
seemed to contain nothing else but `Henry Decker, Esq.'

`Well, wife he's off,' said Peter, Mrs. Dalton at that moment coming into
the breakfast room in a flowery looking cap and with a novel in her hand;
she having read in Godey's Lady's Book that the Countess of Blesington
used sometimes so to make her appearance in a morning. Poor Mrs. Countess
Appollonie Dalton Ale-mara! her head had been completely turned
ever since her husband had told her cousin had succeeded in getting the
money to take him to England.

`Gone! sailed to England!' she almost shrieked theatrically! `Let me see
the place!' and she snatched the paper and fixed her eyes upon the printed
announcement of the fact of her cousin's departure with intense inspection!
She at length seemed to realize the truth and for a moment was
quite overcome. She let the paper drop gently to the floor, sunk as prettily
as she could, for her weight, for she was a fat body, into a chair and fanned
herself with the novel.

`Oh, oh! this—this, oh! This is too—too exquisite!'

`Why wife, what now has got possession?' exclaimed Peter alarmed—
ignorant man! not to know it was aristocratic to faint— and that all Countesses
fainted! She sighed gently, blowed a little, and then recovered herself
without having lost in the pretty experiment one tint of her fiery red
visage.

`Oh, Dalton you will be the death of me! `wife!' call me no longer by
such vulgar terms! call me `my countess,' Dalton.'

`My ninneniss!' roared Peter! `wait till your cousin gets to be a lord,
which I think he will get to own an Indiaman first. It is true he has gone
and I suppose has taken the proper papers with him! But I have been
asking Mr. —, the English Consul about their lordships that have no
heirs, (not letting him know my motive) and he has told me that the lord
chancellor is made guardian by law of the Realm of all such `hereditaments,'
as he called 'em; and that if no heir be found within a certain period
the estates escheat, as he terms it, to the crown. Now as the chancery
court representing the crown interest, is one party in this affair, in which
Henry Decker is the other, it is in my opinion, pretty clear who wins! The
court will have it all its own way, and will manage to throw such obstacles
in the way to Decker's claim, that he will have to return defeated as sure
as he is now sauguine that he will succeed. The estates of this Lord Aylmer,
as the consul told me, (for I asked him about them) cover almost a
county and are immensely valuable; the deceased lord being accounted
when he lived, one of the richest noblemen in England. Now, this is too
pretty a farm, wife, for the king to give up, when he can take it as I can
turn a copper, and send poor Henry Decker whistling for his ragged nobilbility.
Therefore,' added Peter very decidedly, `I am of opinion, your
cousin, be he lord or lacquey, will get his trouble for his pains, and you
will be about as much Countess as Betty the kitchen maid will be Mrs.
Dalton.'

`A fine comparison, you make, sir,' roused up the offended lady; `I
would have you to know if I am not a Countess, I am not to be compared
with a cook, sir! Mrs. Dalton! yes, I dare say, if I was out of the way
she'd be liked to be Mrs. Dalton very soon, sir; for she's just low enough
for such a low bred fellow's taste as you, sir!'

Thus speaking, the offended lady stalked out of the room with a lofty
movement which was a sort of travestie of Lady Macbeth's tragic walk,
even as her short dumpy figure travesties the majestic person of that queenly
woman. Mrs. Dalton was truly wrathful; but her ire was produced as
much from grief and disappointment, at the probable downfall of her castles
in the air, as at Peter's introduction of Betty the cook, by way of illustration.
But poor Betty was a very good vent to carry off her vexation and
disappointment, and was therefore made serviceable.

From that day the subject of the lordship was not alluded to by either;
though both were on the tip toe of expectation when they should get, by
some means they knew not how, intelligence of Henry Decker's movements.

4. CHAPTER IV.
The Return.

The impatience of the wealthy India Merchant and also of the `Countess
Ale-mare,' increased as the time drew nigh, when judging from the
length of their `poor relation's' absence they might reasonably expect some
news. The more the former reflected upon the difficulty of substantiating
such a claim in the Lord Chancellor's Court, the more assured was he that
he would (should he even be the true heir) fail of succeeding to the princely
inheritance; while his wife grew more and more sanguine. Henry
Decker had now been ten weeks away and of late Peter had been observed
very attentively examining the London files.

`You have a ship expected into the Thames, Mr. Dalton, I suspect?' said
a Central Wharf merchant who had observed him closely examining the
files of the Times brought by the last arrival.

`No,' replied Peter starting and coloring as if caught doing something
wrong; `but I—that is, the state of the London market is very interesting
just now.' And Peter smiled and half-bowed as he turned away to look at
a New York paper.

This feverish interest to hear of the `Schoolmaster' (for he expected any
step taken in such an important matter would be made public and put into
the prints) grew upon him daily, and made him so nervous that the words
`London' or `England' which he chanced to meet with in any of the city
morning papers made him start with a quicker beating of the pulse. His
wife on the contrary, grew more and more confident every day, and committed
a hundred ridiculous follies in anticipation of her cousin's success.
One day Peter came in cross from having heard ill news from one of his
ships, and as dinner was not ready he sat down grumbling by the centre
table and began to turn over a book of prints. From the leaves a parcel

of freshly embossed cards fell out and his astonished gaze was rivetted on
the name,

`What in the infernal name is this?' he exclaimed addressing her `ladyship'
herself, who was reclining at her length on the sofa reading `Byron.'

`My card,' she said slightly turning pale at his stern looks, but speaking
with considerable confidence.

`Your card!' he repeated with indignant contempt; and taking them he
tossed them into the grate and then by way of enforcing the act flung the
book of prints after them! `I wish your cousin had been at the devil! You
are making a fool of yourself and of me too! Let me tell you once for all
there is no chance for success. Lawyer — may whistle for his five hundred
dollars. Now mark my word!'

`But,' interposed the lady with timid hesitation have you any doubts of
Henry's being the heir?'

`I confess I have very little,' he said candidly after having made a short
pause.

`Then whether he get it or not I am clearly discarded from this noble
family of Alemare and it is becoming in me to assert my dignity. If he
fails, it will not effect my descent; and I shall not be backward in letting
some upstart people here in Boston know who I am! Not I!'

`They will set you dawn as a fool! Take my advice and let the matter
alone! If your cousin succeeds you will have honor; if he fails the least
you say about it the better.' Thus giving his opinion Peter sat down to
dinner,—the Countess Appollonia Ale-mare in the sulks!

Week after week passed by and Henry Decker had been absent four
months, when hearing nothing from him, and the lawyer of whom they
would have inquired being a member of Congress and absent in Washington,
they both quietly gave up the subject. Mrs. Dalton gradually settled
down into her former state, content with her present condition, (though not
without a second hope) and Peter ceased to examine the files of the London
Times. His opinion was that Henry had failed and privately returned and
gone back to his village and school to bury there his disappointment and
disgrace. And he secretly cherished this hope.

At length when six months had elapsed and Henry Decker was almost
forgotten, the merchant was electrified by opening his morning paper full
upon the following paragraph:

`We learn by the London Times received by yesterday's packet that
there is at present in England an American gentleman, who lays claim to
the title and estates of the late Lord Aylmer. `This person,' says the
Times, is a well bred man and has a highly intellectual look, combined
with a pleasing amiability of manners. He is said to be poor. His claims
are reported to be very strong, and the Court which is engaged in examining

his proofs of heirship will shortly decide upon the merits of his claim
to succeed to this ancient title and vast possessions. We suspend our own
full opinion, but there is more probability that the estate will escheat than
pass in succession to the claimant.' `We know something' adds the Boston
paper, `of the merits of the claims of this gentleman, having been informed
of them some months since by his attorney here; and in our opinion
as well as in that of this eminent lawyer, his claims to the succession
are incontrovertible, and he can only be ousted by an act of flagrant injustice,
by a tyrannical abuse of power.'

The merchant having read the paragraph to its close exclaimed emphatically,

`And to this abuse of power will he become the victim, just as I prophesied!
Well, he has really gone into the lists with the Chancellor! He
deserves credit for his perseverance. I am reconciled to myself now that
it is clear that he will be ousted, for not lending him the money! He will
come back penniless and I should never have seen a dollar of my money
more! This paper says that the decision was to have been given in a few
days. I may then expect Henry Decker back in the next packet, if he does
not shoot himself, or can get money to pay his passage! It is just as certain,
as the London paper hints, that his claim will not be recognized as
that he will come to me when he lands to borrow ten dollars to take him
down home to Framingham!'

Peter withheld the paper from his wife, for now that her Countess-mania
had cleverly passed by, he did not choose to revive it; for he knew a spark
would rekindle it.

He now watched very closely the lists of passengers on the arrival of any
packet from England. But several weeks passed in fruitless expectation,
when one morning as he was going down State Street, a Liverpool packet
was telegraphed as being upon the beach beneath the lower light. The
evening paper as he opened it in his counting room gave the following item
of intelligence.

`The ship `L'Abri,' twenty-five days from Liverpool, went ashore on—
beach at day-light this morning. She will be lightened and got off without
material injury. Her passengers will be brought up to town by a steamer
that has been despatched to her. Passengers; Robert Eckhart, and lady;
Henry Deland, lady and servant; B. A. Davis; Charles P. Dewitt; J. Drummond;
Capt. Dresback, Guards; Mr. Hornbook; Mr. Ackerman; Mr.
Deckar; Mr. Flemming; George Robinson, bearer of Despatches; the
Earl of Elliston; The Hon. Capt Crockford, British Army; Lieut. Blakeley,
and twenty-nine in the steerage.'

`As I thought,' exclaimed the merchant so emphatically as to make all
his clerks stare; `he has come back as he went, or worse, for he had a
debt on his shoulders he'll never pay. I knew it! I was as sure he would
not succeed as I am sitting here! It is well I have not to lament the loss

of five hundred dollars, as of my wife of her expected nobility. Not but
I feel sorry for the loss of it too! It would have been a feather in my cap
to be the husband of the cousin of a lord! It would have opened all the
best society to us, and made Isaac and the children hold up their heads with
the best. Besides, there was a chance of Isaac's inheriting! Well the
thing's up now! Here's the schoolmaster come back again schoolmaster!'
It must be he thought the printer has made a mistake in the spelling of the
e. `Now I hope Mrs. Dalton will rest content and tease me no more with
her relationship! I shall perhaps have a visit from her cousin! but he
don't get a dollar from me, I'll assure him. I wonder how he managed to
pay his passage! There was quite a respectable lot of them too, and he
came in the cabin! Poor and proud! But set a beggar on horseback he'll
ride to the devil! The Earl of Elliston! Here's a true nobleman for you
after all! though the schoolmaster didn't come back one. This will take off
the wire edge of my wife's disappointment; it is something to be in the
same city with a live lord!

A faint footstep interrupted the India merchant in the midst of his meditations
and looking up he beheld standing before him Mr. Henry Decker!
He had expected him, but he was taken by surprise as well as astonished at
his boldness in coming unannounced, into the sacred inner counting room
which the merchant was then occupying alone. The schoolmaster
stood before him in proper person, holding respectfully in his hand the
same seedy hat, and habited in the same thread-bare, greyish black suit.
He had not changed a particle save that his complexion was browner and
healthier from the sea-voyage, and his pantaloons something more worn in
the knees.

`So, Mr. Decker you have come back,' said the merchant coldly; `I just
saw the announcement of your name among the passengers of the L'Abri.'

`Yes sir, I came in her! I hope you are well, sir, and my cousin Appollonia
also,' said Henry humbly, and blushingly withdrawing his hand which
had held out to the merchant but which the other did not seem to see; for
he kept his own in his pockets, and threw himself back upon the hind legs
of his chair in a pompous way he had when he wished to repel undue familiarity.

`Mrs. Dalton is well,' responded Peter with an emphasis on the hymenial
designation of his better half, as if meaning thereby to resent the poor
schoolmaster's familiarity. He deigned no reply to the inquiry after his
own health.

`I suppose,' ventured Henry Decker, `that you would like to know how
I succeeded in my matter.'

`I have no need to inquire,' retorted Peter, eyeing significantly the threadbare
suit of his wife's relation; `sometimes eyes are as useful as ears.'

`Yes, sir,' responded Henry quietly sliding himself into a chair and
placing his hat deferently upon his knees. The merchant stared. `I hope

you will excuse the liberty I take in sitting down unasked, Mr. Dalton,' he
added, apologising for his freedom, `but I have not quite got my land legs
on yet, and I find it is quite fatiguing to stand on shore!'

`I dare say,' growled Peter devising in his mind some way of relieving
himself of him. `I am sorry you have not succeeded Mr. Decker; and
now the result is as it is, you must acquit me of being unfriendly in refusing
to loan you the money.'

`Oh, yes sir,' answered Henry.

`I presume you have not brought much back with you.'

`Expenses in England are very great, and my passage was high and I
must confess it is pretty low with me just at this moment, he, he!' And the
schoolmaster laughed as if he had said a very witty thing. But Peter could
not see any thing in what he said to laugh at, and looked very stern and
dignified.

`I hope you have got enough to take you to Framingham,' said the merchant
loftily.

`Why, cousin—

`I beg, Mr. Decker, that you will be so good as to drop that term altogether,
interrupted the merchant severely and frowning a thunderbolt.

`I beg ten thousand pardons,' cried the schoolmaster hurriedly and
seeming much mortified, `but I quite forgot myself, Mr. Dalton.'

The merchant was mollified by the profound humility of the apology,
and said kindly, or what he meant to be so,

`I should be glad to invite you home to tea but we are going out this
evening.'

`Oh, it makes but little difference, I can amuse myself with the children,'
said the schoolmaster meekly; `you and coz—I mean Mrs. Dalton needn't
make a stranger of me. I can find a book to read till bed-time!'

The merchant opened his eyes and suspected his ears! Did the `poor
cousin' mean to go home with him!

`By the by, England is a great country, Mr. Dalton,' suddenly exclaimed
Mr. Decker in quite a self-complacent tone, as if there had existed the best
understanding between them. `The sea also is much wider than I had
conceived, and the king is like any other man only a little portly like and
well-fed. But this reminds me of my supper. The sea sharpens one's
appetite amazingly.'

The merchant was confounded at this audacity of a `poor relation,' and
all too with such a meek look and deferential manner, fumbling his greasy
hat between his knees and looking so awed and timid.

`This is the top-touch of impudence,' he said to himself; `the fellow is
without means and intends to cousin on me for tea and lodging, hoping I'll
let him have money to get rid of him. But he'll find himself mistaken.—
Not a dollar of mine will he finger.'

`You seem to have grown something fleshy, cousin, since I left,' said
Henry Decker, interrupting his thoughts, and, as if getting bolder, he threw
one leg across the other, and gave at the same time such a confident ahem
for a poor man that the India merchant's astonishment and displeasure
were complete. He rose up and said sternly,

`Mr. Decker, I am engaged and must go to my house. I have told you
I cannot invite you to tea.'

`Oh, very well, I'll come and dine with you to-morrow, as I should like
to see Appollonia before I leave town.'

Mr. Dalton it so happened was to give a dining party the next day to several
India merchants, three or four aldermen and even the mayor was to
be a guest. He therefore turned round to the schoolmaster and with decision
commensurate with this circumstance, said,

`To-morrow I am to have a select party of gentlemen to dine, and it will
be impossible for me to receive you. It seems your voyage to England has
not improved your modesty. I never was so annoyed, sir. I have little regard
for people that invite themselves. I wish to lock my door and bid
you a good day, sir.'

Here the merchant went out, and Mr. Decker, very meekly as became a
poor relation rose and followed him, and slowly passed out to the street,
while the merchant was giving some instructions to his clerk. In a few
moments Peter came out, thinking him gone, and encountered him on the
side-walk.

`I was waiting for you,' said the schoolmaster, quietly.

`The devil you were! I thought you had taken the hint I gave you.—
Now once for all Mr. Decker, I do not wish to have you a guest at my
house. I am used to better dressed men, rather! You presume too much
on being a cousin of Mrs. Dalton. She would be mortified to own you as
a relation and you know it! Once for all I do not want you at my house.'

`Oh, I am sorry to have incurred your displeasure, Mr. Dalton, indeed I
am;' replied the schoolmaster abashed; `I thought Appollonia might like
to see me, as I have just got back from England. `I've got some little
presents for each of the children—they did'nt cost a great deal but coming
from England, I thought they might be pleased with 'em.'

Peter was too close to buy toys for his children, but had no objection to
other person's making them presents. The holidays were at hand and he
had that very morning been importuned by them to buy them something.
The word `presents' spoken by the schoolmaster, therefore, vibrated not
unpleasant upon his ear, and the idea to him that if they got these presents,
it would be quite unnecessary for him to purchase any, and so much
would be saved.

`Presents, ah? Are they pretty?'

`Yes, I think the children will like them. If you will permit me to call
to-morrow some time I will bring them with me.'

`Oh, very well. Let me see—we dine at four—do not come then or near
that hour. Say one o'clock; the children will then be at home from school
and Mrs. Dalton will no doubt be glad to have you spend a quarter of an
hour at the house, for relationship's sake.

The schoolmaster was plainly made happy by this permission, and cheerfully
bidding the merchant good day he let him proceed alone towards his
mansion, not a little gratified to get so cleverly rid of his poor relation,
whom he began to believe had determined, through a persevering impudence
which feigned humility, upon him for a home.

`Has Henry Decker been here with the children's presents?' inquired
Peter on coming from his counting-room at three o'clock the next day.

`Yes,' said the wife scornfully, `and pitiful presents they were too! A
tin whistle for Isaac, and a sugar rooster for each of the other children!'

`The whole not the value of a fourpence, I dare say.'

`No: but what better could be expected? He had on the same thread-bare
suit you said he had and looked as poor as a church mouse? He
boasted too, he was acquainted with that great Earl the paper this morning
says has taken rooms at the Tremont, as if an Earl would speak to him!
He deserves to die in the poor house or in the jail, as he will, if this lawyer
he owes sues him, for making me think I was a Countess!'

`Did he tell you that he could not prove himself the heir?'

`No, did he say so to you?'

`Not in so many words. The fact is I believe he is no more one of the
Bouillies than I am a Mooley. I should like to have seen him when the
Lord Chancellor gave him his quietus! But he has the impudence of a
highwayman with all his seeming bashfulness, and would have spunged on
me yesterday if I would have let him.'

`I had hard work to get rid of him to-day, and was afraid he would stay
he lingered so—'

`Was you speaking of the poor gentleman who was here to-day, marm?'
interposed the nurse who came into the parlor at the moment.

`Yes.'

`Well, he asks Thomas, he does, at the door, if there is to be a dinner
party, and Thomas says yes. He then asks the hour, and when Thomas
says four, he said he believed he would `drop in,' he did, marm.'

`He did, did he!' almost screamed Mrs. Dalton.

`Let me catch him,' retorted Peter, putting his thumb and finger significantly
together if he had a man by the ear.

`The imperence!' murmured Mrs. Dalton with rage.

`The beggarly pedagogue!' thundered Peter.

Mrs. Dalton bolted from the room to give Thomas orders, on pain of losing
his place, not to let him in; which orders Peter came out and reiterated
with the additional penalty of having a broken head. Thomas of
course promised faithfully and with that sincerity which became a footman
who stood in fear of a broken head and dismission from service.

The lady was at length composed again, for as she was already in full
dress for her expected guests, it being half an hour to four, she was too discreet
to let her face get flushed with anger; and taking a seat where she
could conveniently superinted the preparations for dinner, while Peter at
a mirror near by rolled up his `pudding' into a new white neckcloth, she
said rather in a soliloquy than absolutely addressing her husband,

`I should feel proud enough if I could have this earl to dinner with the
mayor and the rest. It would be a triumph! An earl and a mayor and
three aldermen, besides half a dozen rich India merchants! But there is
not time now—and it would require management to get him as the big-bugs
will be fighting for him. But if he stays here long enough I'll make
a party for him, and it shall be a splendid one. He puts up at the Tremont.
Dalton shall call on him and leave his card. I wonder if he has a wife with
him. No, or it would have been mentioned. Dalton shall call on him first
and I'll secure him to my party. It is done!' she said emphatically.

`What is done, wife?' asked the merchant, turning with surprise at the
emphasis with which she closed her monologue.

`That I give a party to the English Earl! It will make me the tip of the
ton if I can get him to come. You must manage to get at him. Such great
folks I know keep very close and are hard to get introduced to! But you
must try and find out who is going to call, and call with him. I must have
him here, that is settled.'

`I am willing. I should like to know an Earl. I have never seen one.—
It would be a grand operation to have him here to a party, I agree with
you!'

`Yes, and I am glad I thought of it. I shall then choose my society!
I shant invite the —, nor the —, nor —, and they will be mad
enough. Let them try and play aristocrat above me, and their children
above my children. I am not going to be second to any of your Boston
families!'

There was in Boston a coterie comprising several old families of high
breeding and great refinement, whose names were associated with the ancient
noblesse of the colony, and which added lustre to the literature of the
day, from which the Daltons were to their infinite annoyance rigidly excluded;
an aristocracy of mind united with birth, to which money could purchase
no ticket of admission. It was to individuals of the exclusive set to
whieh the merchant's wife alluded.

Peter was about to make some remark which had reference to the probability
of any of the guests soon dropping in, when a ring at the door bell
announced, as a glance through the curtains told Mrs. Dalton, no less a person
than his Honor the Mayor himself, accompanied by one of the Aldermen.
Peter hurried and blundered at the tie of his neckcloth; Mrs. Dalton
took a peep into the mirror and then seated herself in great state in a
scarlet velvet arm chair which she filled, though her neck being something
short, her head did not quite come up to the top of the back; and the next
moment the distinguished guests were announced.

But we leave the account of this great dinner and its events to another
portion of our story.

5. CHAPTER V.
THE INVITED AND UNINVITED GUEST, OR THE BANQUET AND BALL.

The dinner at Colonnade Row was given by the India merchant on the
occasion of the formation of a new company for pursuing a certain mercantile
enterprise, in which his guests were the co-partners. Peter as well
as his Honor was largely interested in it, and as he was ambitious of being
made its President, he resolved on giving the company a dinner at his own
house, hoping much from the kindly influence of turtle and generous wines
upon their suffrages.

The drawing room of the merchant was profusely ornamented rather
than furuished. Crimson curtains faced with saffron-colored satin and bordered
with a fringe of gold-silk, shaded the windows; the marble mantles
were crowded with Chinese ornaments. India shells and oriental curiosities,
presents to the merchant from the captain of his ships. The chairs
were of the glossiest mahogany with red velvet seats. There were scarlet
sofas with scarlet fringes, scarlet ottomans and scarlet foot-stools. The carpets
were of the richest and gaudiest colors, and the mirrors were large and
costly, and the pier-tables elegant and heaped with plate and china. There
was every where the eye fell, a lavish display that told that the master of
the house was rich! But taste, which goes as far as gold, there was none.
All was gaudy, ill-arranged and gairish. But taste is one of the graces of
refined education, and this Mrs. Appollonia Dalton could not boast of. Every
object in the room was put there to speak the opulence of the owner.
There was no needle work which every gentle-woman has in her parlor, no
flowers in vases, or a geranium or a camilla in the window. There were
no books on the centre table that showed they were reading people, and no
pictures to show that they were people of taste and education. That well

arranged elegance, that rich harmony of things, that just selection and
adaptation which characterises the abodes of refined and well-bred rich
people, was wanting here; and as the Mayor cast his eyes round he needed
no foreign information to tell him that Peter Dalton and his wife had not
always been accustomed to the luxuries of high-bred life.

`So, Mr. Dalton,' said the alderman, looking round after he had seated
himself, `you have very handsomely furnished rooms; very elegant, all this,
very.'

`Yes, pretty well,' answered Peter, who, had he been a true gentleman,
would have taken such a speech as an insulting one, and an evidence of the
speaker's ill-breeding. But the alderman was by no means ill-bred; he
knew `his company,' and was assured Peter would take his remarks as
praise. The merchant did so. And glancing round with a secret smile of
proud satisfaction, as if he would pass off such things with lordly indifference
he added,

`I, however, leave these things to Mrs. Dalton. Women like to make a
glitter. I have only to write out the checks and hand them to her. She's
my check-mate, Mr. alderman. Check-mate, your Honor. Did you hear,
ha, ha, ha! A good one wife, eh?' And Peter again laughed at his capital
pun, looked at the mayor who smiled, and at the alderman who laughed
aloud and said,

`Excellent. You are a wit, Mr. Dalton.'

`Not much—I only keep my jokes for my friends,' responded Peter in
admirable humor.

`Yes, Callers' have told me my rooms is furnished elegant,' spoke up all
at once Mrs. Dalton, on whom the alderman's compliment had not been
thrown away, and which she had been digesting till now; `them mirrors
is eight inches one way and five another bigger than them great French
ones of Mr. Sears'.

`Indeed, madam!' repeated the alderman with well acted astonishment,
and using his neck to take a second look at them. They are very tall!'

`Yes. It is so pleasant to see one's whole length, from the shoes to the
feather's when one is dressed, and know exactly how one looks when walking
in the street.'

`It must be madam,' said courteously his Honor, whose eye the lady
caught as if for him to reply.

Mrs. Dalton was then about to draw their attention to the beautiful picture
on her rug, of Diana hunting a Doe, which she described as a young
woman a-chasin' of a reindeer, when the street bell announced other
guests.

With suitable ceremony the merchant and his lady received them as they
were shown into the room by Thomas; and it being now four o'clock and
all the company having assembled—save one of the merchants who sent

an excuse for his absence—the drawing room doors were rolled back and
dinner was announced.

`Your Honor will please escort Mrs. Dalton,' said Peter, taking his wife's
fat hand and leading her to that gentleman, and the lady with suitable dignity
took the mayor's arm. Peter then waived in the other guests, standing
in the door like a gentleman-usher, and followed last.

The table made a brilliant and glittering display, and the guests took
their seats full of that pleasing expectation which characterises the sitters
down to a good entertainment. In number, including the host and hostess,
they were nine, with a tenth plate made vacant by the delinquent guest,
who had sent his apology. The napkins were unfolded and laid upon the
lap, and Mrs. Dalton had just began to help to the turtle soup, when the
street door bell rang with an emphasis.

`There is Peterman, now, go to the door Thomas!' cried Peter with pleasurable
expectation; `I thought he would get here if he could notwithstanding
his note said business might keep him away altogether.' And he was
getting up from the table, to go out and meet him in the hall, when the adjacent
drawing room door opened, and the `schoolmaster' closely followed
by Thomas entered to the surprise and consternation of Peter and his wife.

`It makes no kind of difference my good man,' said Henry Decker speak-to
the footman who was trying to prevail upon him to turn back. `I can
just take a plate with them, tho' I have dined! I like company especially
pleasant company.'

`But the mayor is there and—'

`I never dined with a mayor, and this is lucky,' said the poor cousin with
manifest pleasure. `Pray don't hold me!'

`I did not mean to let him in sir,' said Thomas in a low voice apologetically
to Peter as the latter came into the drawing room with the determination
to thrust his relation out; `but as soon as I opened the door he pushed
right by me and here he is got into the drawing room!'

`How do you do cousin!' said the schoolmaster, as pleasantly and self-possessed
as if he had been an invited guest, and was only apologising for
his delay; `I am just in time as I see the soup is not served!'

`You infern—'

`Oh yes, I know you said four o'clock! I never forget an invitation to
dine! I am always fortunate.'

`I told you sirrah, I was to have a private dinner.'

`Yes—I distinctly remember! I prefer private dinners! Something so
social in a private dinner! But I beg your pardon. I will not keep you
here talking, as I see my cousin is looking anxious for us to take our seats,
as the soup will cool.'

`You are cool enough the devil knows,' muttered Peter, who finding he
could not mend the matter without an absolute row, and seeing that he
could not otherwise be prevented dining with him, he thought it best to

put a good face on the matter, and winked as much to Mrs. Dalton. The
guests had not heard all that passed and really believed that this was some
friend of Peter's who was foolishly detaining him in the room while the
soup was waiting to apologise for his tardiness.

`Behave yourself, then, if you will thrust yourself here, and thank the
company present that you are not kicked out of my house,' said Peter sternly;
and he led the way back to the table, and sullenly pointed to the vacant
seat, but introduced him to no one.

Mrs. Dalton looked like a masked fury as the schoolmaster politely
bowed to her, and then as he met the eyes of the guests inclined his head
respectfully.

She was however gratified that he was dressed so well, and really thought
he might pass for a gentleman, if people did'nt know who he was. And
so Peter thought; and when they found he was unknown to all present
they both felt relieved. But both did in their hearts, determine on revenge
when opportunity should offer. No offence in their situation, could equal
this. A poor relation to take such airs upon himself!

Having taken the liberty, Henry Decker now that he had secured a seat
at the rich man's table, quite dropped his `airs.' He was once more the
same humble, diffident, deferential, poor man! Soup was at last handed
to him, and he took it bashfully, without lifting his eyes, and said to the
walter who gave it to him:

`I thank you kindly, sir.'

He made no use of his napkin in the silver ring, and, taking it up, seemed
to examine it with much speculation as to its possible use. The guests
were too much occupied with their soup to give a second thought to the
quiet gentleman in black, supposing his not being introduced owing to a
forgetfulness on the part of the host. Their attention was drawn to him, at
seeing him look up from his plate and suddenly, yet respectfully address
their host as cousin.

`Cousin Peter, I suppose you find it quite a contrast between living in
this house, and that one-story black ten-footer you were born in! It must
have been quite a change from the old pewter spoons to these silver forks!
You've been a lucky man to get up in the world as you have, Peter!'

The guests started! Peter could have jumped down his own throat to
have stopped his mouth; while Mrs. Dalton nearly exploded with rage.
But what could they do? Wisdom and discretion they felt were the better
part; and Peter said to his guests:

`Oh, ah, I had forgotton to introduce my wife's distant relative—a country
schoolmaster!' said Peter, as if he had just now recollected himself;
`schoolmasters are sometimes very respectable persons, he, he!,

`It is said John Adams and Dr. Franklin once kept a school,' said Mrs.
Dalton, wishing, now the secret was out, to gloss over the disreputable features
of the relationship. `Mr. Decker, however is not exactly a cousin but

only has the habit of calling me so, from our having been to school together
when little children.'

`It is pleasant to be thought to be related to rich folks, you know,' said
Peter trying to laugh, apologetically addressing the mayor; but at the same
time thoroughly astounded at his wife's lie, told so directly in the face of
what he had just before acknowledged. `A poor man, your honor,' whispered
Peter to the mayor, `that sometimes drops in upon us, when he comes
to town. He probably did not know I had gentlemen to dine with me.'

`He seems to be a very innoffensive person,' said Alderman Maddox, who
had overheard the apologetic whisper.

`Oh, quite so. Perfectly harmless,' repeated Peter patronizely. `His
only fault is he is poor.'

`A very common crime among schoolmasters, I think,' said, with a laugh
Jacob Hicks, a grocer and shipping merchant, who was supposed to be
very rich.

Dinner now went bravely on, amid the clashing of knives and forks, the
clattering of plates, the popping of corks, the gurgling of decanted wine,
the flurry of servants and the compound movement of nine pairs of jaws
talking and eating at once. They were in mid-dinner, and no farther notice
had been taken of the poor schoolmaster, who quietly ate what was set before
him, not forgetting to thank the waiter very politely and gratefully, and
looking as if he was greatly awed (as Peter thought) at the great people he
had got amongst. Seeing him so, the India merchant felt his self-love
healed, and felt disposed to be generous and forgive him, and was about to
put some condescending question to him about `his school in the country,'
when as fate would have it, the schoolmaster took up a silver tankard of
water that by some means was left near his plate, and seeing a shield engraved
upon it, said innocently:

`I did'nt know you'd got to have a coat of arms! well this is being aristocratic!
They said down country, cousin Appollonia, you were among
the first in Boston; but I did'nt know you'd got to this.'

Mrs. Dalton stamped one foot with vexation under the table and looked
as red as shame and anger could make her. Peter looked daggers of displeasure
at him, and a suppressed smile was seen to steal over the features
of more than one guest; while Henry Decker became an object of special
interest to every one. The mayor thought he saw in his countenance an
appearance of quiet gentlemanly refinement that by no means harmonized
with his rude language, and curious to know something of him, he addressed
him a common-place question. Hitherto the schoolmaster had not been
addressed either to the host or hostess, and with the corresponding look
and tone and language of a poor country pedagouge, who felt awkwardly
his position, and had striven by saying something to relieve himself. But
at the question of the mayor there was an instentaneous alteration, as surprising
as it was sudden. He threw aside his humble abashed manner, as

if it had been a cloak assumed; his head became manfully erect; his fine
dark countenance beamed with blended courtesy and intelligence, and as
he politely and gracefully replied to the mayor, he sat in the presence of
all the guests a gentleman confessed! Never was such a transformation!
They forgot the thread-bare costume in the man, and each exchanged glances
with each other, expressive of their mutual surprise and pleasure. The
change was visible even to the prejudiced eyes of Peter and the hostess; but
they wondered, indignant how a `poor man,' dare put on such high airs at
a rich man's table and in such a presence. The question put to the poor
schoolmaster was a commonplace one in reference to the adventures of
youth. Henry Decker in reply, held his honor, and all the guests for tea
minutes delighted listeners to an eloquent dissertation upon the subject,
pleasingly illustrated by anecdotes, well told and appropriate, at the same
time charming them by his refinement of language and captivating manner
of speaking. When he had done, the mayor and the rest expressed their
gratification with such genuine admiration that Peter and his wife thought
they were not educated enough to comprehend all he said began to think
that the schoolmaster was something after all; and the former thought, as the
mayor had noticed, him, he himself could do so, without disgracing himself
He therefore, waiting a pause in the conversation, condescendingly invited
him to take wine. But the mayor had just solicited the same courtesy and
Mr. Decker declined Peter's invitation with a cool politeness that chilled
the merchant and made him feel himself at his own table inferior to his
thread-bare guest. The conversation in which the other guests joined, was
continued for some time (for the desert was now on the table) on the subject
of education, and the public schools of Boston, when the mayor chanced
to refer to a school system on the new plan lately organized in London of
which he had heard.

`Yes,' said Henry Decker, `I have examined this plan, having recently
visited the school of which you speak.'

`You have been to England then?' responed his honor with a little
surprise.

`I have been only two days back. I had some important business, which
took me there last year, and I returned yesterday in the packet L'Abri.'

`Ah, I had thought you had just come up from the country,' said his honor
looking towards Mrs Dalton, who quickly turned her head pretending to say
something to Thomas, who stood behind her.

`The L'Abri! She was the ship that got ashore on the lighthouse beach.'
said Alderman Maddox.

`And the same one in which the Earl of Elliston came passenger,' said
the mayor. `Did you chance to see much of that nobleman, Mr. Decker
while on board?'

`I had no particular conversation with him,' answered the schoolmaster
quietly, as if he thought he was not sinking any lower in their estimation

even in frankly confessing he had come fellow passenger with a nobleman
and had not talked with him.

`I expect noblemen choose their own society,' said Mrs. Dalton somewhat
sharply. `Has your honor seen the earl?'

`No madam, I have not yet had the honor, I understand he is at the Tremont
House, and I shall not fail to wait upon his lordship, and extend to
him the courtesies of the city. The title is of an ancient and powerful
family, largely concerned in agriculture, and some of the name have distinguished
themselves both in the field and the forum.'

Mrs. Dalton now fidgeted till she drew her husbands attention, and then
signified to him by a wink, that he must speak about the proposed introduction.
Peter understood her, and said with a slight degree of hesitation:

`What time does your honor think of calling on the earl.'

`It is uncertain. I shall try and drop in in the course of the forenoon,'
said the mayor.

`I should esteem it an honor, if you do not object, to call with you,' said
the India merchant.

`I have no doubt his lordship would be most happy to see you, Mr. Dalton,'
said his honor, `but I fear I shall have to decline the pleasure of your
company. I shall only make a formal official visit,' and the mayor courteously
smiled and bowed, as if he had dismissed the subject.

`I shall, probably, call upon the earl, cousin and will be most happy to
give you an introduction,' said Henry Decker, with an assurance and freedom,
as if, thought Mrs. Dalton, he had been hand in glove with lords all
his life.

Peter wanted the introduction, and wished to have it under good auspices.
He did not think that he now proposed the best he could obtain, and
politely, to the eyes of others, yet contemptuously, as he meant it should be
to his eyes whom he addressed, declined the offer, saying:

`You are very kind, Mr. Decker; but as you will probably go down to
the country to-morrow, I will not take your time and so delay your departure.'

`Oh, not at all; I shall remain in the city some weeks, said the `poor
cousin' in a careless manner.

Mrs. Dalton rolled up her eyes, and Peter swore inwardly that if he came
near his house after that day he would shoot him!

`He will of course see me if I call alone,' ventured Peter to the mayor

`Of course, Mr. Dalton, and doubtless feel flattered by the attention.'

Peter and his wife interchanged glances of triumph, and the lady soon
after rose from the table and took her leave, giving her `poor cousin' a terrible
look of mingled rage, pride, scorn and contempt, as she swept by towards
the drawing room, to the door of which she was escorted by the
gallant alderman Maddox. In a few moments afterwards Henry Decker

rose and took a polite leave of the guests and a very deferential one of Peter
who felt not a little relieved when he heard the door close behind him,
which by the peculiar `slamb' he knew was by his wife's hand!

`A very intelligent and well bred man, your friend Mr. Decker is,' said
the mayor.

`A scholar and a gentleman,' said the merry alderman Maddox, tipsily;
`let us drink his health and wish him a better coat!'

`The next hour was devoted to discussion of the mercantile affair that had
brought them together and Peter to his great gratification was chosen President
of the board. It was decided by them, before breaking up, that suitable
honors should be paid to the noble English guest then in the city, and
that their ladies must give parties for him.

This decision was overheard by Ms. Dalton, and she resolved to be foremost
with a party, for reasons already given in a former part of our story.

6. CHAPTER VI.

At twelve, or little before that hour, the next day the wealthy Peter Dalton
was seen making his way up the granite portico of the Tremont. Arriving
at the office he promptly inquired of the Deacon in a loud tone, that all
might hear, `it the Earl of Elliston was in!'

`He is! but there goes his Honor the Mayor now to call on him.'

`I will then just go up at the same time,' said Peter, hurrying after this
dignitary whom he saw going up stairs.

`Pardon me sir,' said Olmstead in his most courteous and polite manner,
`but his lordship has sent down word that he is at home to-day only to the
mayor if he should call. You can leave your card sir.'

The India merchant growled as he did so, and as he went away began to
think about putting his name up for the next mayorality, if it gave a man
such privileges; for the mayor was not a quarter so rich as he was! The
mayor, whom, leaving Peter to grumble his way home, we will follow, was
ushered to the door of a large, handsome apartment, one of the chambres
destingues of the Tremont, and announced by a servant in plain blue livery
who stood in attendance.

`I am happy to see you, Sir, and feel honored by your kind attention,' said
a well formed, dark complectioned mad, about thirty-eight years of age,
with a fine intellectual countenance, laying down a book and coming forward
with a hand extended. The mayor was about to take it when he
started back. A smile on the other's face seconded his surprise:

`Mr. Decker?' he exclaimed half in doubt.

`Yes,' answered the nobleman smiling.

`And not the Earl of Elliston?'

`Both, sir. I was Mr. Decker yesterday, (for I chose to be) to-day I am
what I truly am, Lord Aylmer, Earl of Elliston.

`I must confess, myself mystified! Yesterday I dined with you, and you
were said to be a poor schoolmaster, now I find you to be Lord Elliston.'

`I owe you an explanation! But here now enters a gentleman who will
himself explain.'

And the mayor turning beheld familiarly entering, the Hon. Mr. —
who had been Henry Decker's lawyer, who being called upon by the Earl
in a few words explained what is known to the reader of the claims of
Henry Decker, and what is now known to the reader of his success in substantiating
them. Mr. Decker, or rather Lord Aylmer, then in a lively
manner, informed him of his connexion with the Daltons, of their pursepride;
of his interview with Decker in his counting-room; and added,

`You will readily appreciate how I enjoyed, in my cousin's ignorance of
my success, the opportunity of letting him show his true character, which
the dinner of yesterday held out to me. I felt that I owed him a return
and think now I have nearly paid him. But I have got to have the full bent
of my humor upon him. My cousin hinted, when I took the sugar plumbs
to the children, that she should give the `lord' a party; this was to show me
how high she was in society. Mr. Dalton will probably call on me, but I
have arranged to have his card sent up to me, and then will follow the invitation,
which I shall not fail to accept. I must take care that the poor
cousin and the English lord are not one and the same before them!'

The gentlemen were highly amused at the whole affair, and the mayor
promising to keep the secret, congratulated Henry Decker on his accession
to his title. He also commended him for his admirable tact at the dinner.
While they were speaking, the servant entered with Peter's card.

`I shall ere to-morrow night get a ticket of invitation to a party at his
house,' said the Earl. `I am too well acquainted with my cousin if I do
not have it to-night, as soon as she knows Mr. Dalton has left his card.'

While Lord Alymer was dining at evening with his friend the attorney,
true to his prognostication, a card from his cousin Appollonia was handed
to him. He read as follows:

To a man of satirecle and humor like Henry Decker, the invitation was
highly gratifying as well as sufficiently amusing. He had lived a poor man,
but he was a scholar by education and native refinement had made him a
gentleman. He had always felt his poverty, and he had been keenly sensitive
to his treatment by his cousin and husband. But the restraint of poverty
was now gone and he could smile, laugh and be witty, as if he had
never been in humble circumstances; so soon does a man change with his
circumstances; or rather how do circumstances make a man show or conceal
his true nature. A pleasanter, wittier or more humorous gentleman,
courteous and dignified withal, as became his high rank, the Mayor and the

Honorable lawyer thought and said that they had seldom met with. Poor
Peter Dalton and his poor wife! They had got themselves into very bad
hands!

The next day Mrs. Dalton saw a plain carriage drive to the door, a footman
in livery ring and leave a card, when the carriage drove off. Thomas
came in bearing a note on a salver.

`It has a cost-of-arms on the seal!' she exclaimed, seeing an Earl's coronet
on the seal. She tore it open in great flutter, and out fell a card. It
was that of the Earl of Elliston. Beneath it was written, simply the words,

`Short, but this I dare say, is arisrocratic,' she said with unbounded delight!
and she began to feel how she should lead the ton!

Tickets were sent every where to the houses of the rich and great; and
the Dalton party was the talk of the rich parvenue portion of society. At
length the expected night came, and by ten the rooms were filled: for it
was understood the English lord was to be there. Mrs. Dalton was in a
fever of expectation. So was the India merchant, whose impatience, however,
was restrained by the mayor, who was present, who kindly invented
a score of excuses for his lordship's delay. At length he was announced.
Mrs. Dalton pressed forward from the crowd of dancers, to her post where
she received her visitors. Peter pressed forward to meet him, wiping his
forehead, which had been covered with perspiration all the evening at the
idea of speaking to and entertaining a lord.

`The Earl of Elliston!' announced in tones that showed that Thomas
did not have a lord to announce every day.

Mrs. Dalton stretched her neck and stood a-tip-toe, and trembled with
vanity and triumph. The crowd retired to make way for his lordship to
present himself to the hostess. He appears in full view!

`That infernal `poor cousin of my wife's has thrust himself in here as I
expected!' exclaimed Peter, `but I see he has had the grace to get a new
suit of clothes!'

`Mercy! That Henry Decker here as I live!' murmured the vext lady as
she saw him; Oh, how mortified I should be if he should come up and
speak to me and the Earl just coming behind him!'

Henry Decker advanced with great dignity and grace directly to the
hostess and bowed low! Peter Dalton was hurrying with indignation to
see him stepping in before the lord whom he was popping his eyes out of
his head to discover behind the schoolmaster, and was advancing sharply,
to thrust him aside, and Mrs. Dalton was turning her back to him in contempt,
when both were electrified by seeing his Honor the Mayor approach
him and salute him aloud with the title of `my Lord!' and then turning
round to Mrs. Dalton, says,

`Allow me to present to you our city's noble guest, at this present yours,
Lord Aylmer, Earl of Elliston!'

Dear reader! we have no more to add. Pen cannot increase, immagination
cannot conceive, truth hath not language to utter, the overpowering,
overwhelming absolute confusion, consternation and horror—(yes horror is
the expressive word) of Peter Dalton and his wife at this announcement!
The lady shrieked and Peter swore! and the company was thrown for a
few moments into the most mystified confusion! But things resumed their
course again; the music and the ball went on; and Lord Aylmer was the
lion of the hour; but somth to say, rather, had Peter Dalton and his wife
have had the honored Devil for a guest that night, than Lord Aylmer, Earl
of Elliston.

In conclusion we will add that Lord Aylmer now resides on one of his
estates in England, and that he is recently married, (out of spite we think)
and that `Isaac' has no chance of succeeding to the inheritance.

Having so publicly denied the relationship to the poor `schoolmaster,' the
Daltons could not now, to the lady's intense mortification, acknowledge it
without shame, even for the eclat of being related to an Earl! Mrs. Dalton
has never forgiven herself, therefore, and we seriously fear her life will be
shortened ten years, through vexation, she having lost much fat already;
nevertheless it is a solace to her to reflect that she is, after all, first cousin
to an Earl though the world may not know it; save that they get the information
by means of our story; before ending, which we would seriously
warn all wealthy, self-made Lame Davy's `sons' and other rich folks, not to
treat with disrespect a `poor relation,' because he carrieth a seedy hat and
hath thread-bare habiliments.