an inch of the ground, shook the old grandfather's readily extended hand with a sturdy grasp, and wound up, for a moment, with a great cuff on the side of the head with a roll of stuff for a new gown for Mopsey, saying as he delivered it, "Dere, what d'ye say to dat, Darkey!" Darkey brightened into a sort of nocturnal illumination, and shuffling away, in the loose shoes, to the keeping of which on her feet the better half of the best energies of her life were directed, gave out that she must be looking after dinner. It was but for a moment only that the Captain paused, and in less than five minutes he had said and done so many good-natured things, had shown himself so free of heart withal, and so little considerate of self or the figure he cut, that in spite of his great clumsy person, and the gash in his face, and the somewhat exorbitant character of his dress, his coat being a bob as long and straight in the line across the back, as the edge of a table, you could not help regarding him as a decidedly well made, well dressed, and quite handsome person; in fact the Captain passed with the whole family for a fine-looking man. "Where's my little girl Miriam?" asked the jovial Captain, after a moment's rest in a seat by the side of old Sylvester. "I must see my Dolphin, or she'll think I'm growing old." Being advised that the young lady in question was somewhere within, the Captain rushed into the house, pursued by all the family in a body, save William Peabody, who remained with old Sylvester, seated and in silence. "How go matters in the city, William?" he said, removing his hand from his brow, where it had rested in contemplation for several minutes. "After the old fashion, father," William Peabody answered, smiling with a fox-like glance at his father; "added three new houses to my property since last year." "Three new houses?" "Three, all of brick,--good streets--built in the latest style. The city grows and I grow!" "Three new houses, and all in the latest style--and how does Margaret's little property pay?" "Poorly, father, poorly. Elbridge made a bad choice when he bought it--greatly out of repair--rents come slowly." "In a word, the old story, the widow gets nothing again from the city. I had hopes you would be able to bring her some returns this time, for she needs it sadly." "I do the best I can, but money's not to be got out of stone walls." "And you have three new houses which pay well," old Sylvester continued, turning his calm blue eye steadily upon his son. "Capital--best in the city! Already worth twice I gave for 'em. The city grows and I grow!" "My son, do you never think of that other house reserved for us all?"