“Why, raly,” said Miss Lachevers, drawing a seat, and depositing her person thereon, “I haint hardly got time to tell you. But it’s wonderful to think of. The fact is, a young schoolmaster arrived in town last night, and I hear it’s his intention to set up a school here for the eddication of youth; and the worst of all is, nobody knows who he is, or where he come from. His name I heered, but I almost forgot it—it’s Dubbs—or Grubbs—or Dobbs—or somethin’ like that. They say he’s a wonderful genus, smart as can be, and full of larning. He stopped at old Jenkins’s, cross the way—whether he means to board there _I_ can’t say—but there he is. I s’pose we’ll get a peep at him to-day. For my part, I should like to know why he put up at old Jenkins’s.” “A schoolmaster!” repeated Mr. Brigs, the elder, with emphatic surprise. “Yes—a reg’lar built, yankee schoolmaster,” replied Miss Betty. “Come to teach the children how that the earth revolves round the sun, instead of the sun revolving round the earth, and things of that extravagant natur’, I s’pose?” “To be sure he will,” said the young lady, “and he’ll be after coaxin’ your children into his notions—see if he don’t.” “Not he!” consequentially returned the old man—“Sol has too much sense for any Yankee that ever lived yet; and I guess Nanny will have enough to do to larn of her mother. Not he!” and Mr. Brigs inflicted two slaps on the left side pocket of his blue vest. Mrs. Brigs sighed, and Miss Lachevers coughed—whether for want of something to say, or to render what she had said complete, it matters not—but she coughed, and bidding a hasty adieu, left the room. Mr. Brigs settled himself down to read the paper, and his lady settled herself down to her favorite exercise—knitting; while Solomon and Nanny repeated to each other surmises as to the probable appearance of the new comer—his age—dress, &c. The day passed away, and night came on. Tea was over, and this happy little family had gathered around the cheerful fire. A gentle tap was heard at the door, and a voice pronouncing the simple word—“housekeepers.” “Come in,” responded Mrs. Brigs, and in came Mr. Jenkins, followed by a young man apparently about twenty-two, with black hair and eyes, straight, tall, and erect, handsome, and of a genteel and prepossessing appearance, who was introduced by his conductor as Mr. Timothy Dobbs. “My friend,” said Mr. Jenkins, after being seated, and taking an accurate survey of the premises, “has come among us for the purpose, he says, of opening a school. He is an orphan, of very superior endowments—brings with him ample credentials of his capacity, and expects to find patronage for his support from the inhabitants of our village.” Mr. Dobbs bowed a concurrence in the remarks of Mr. Jenkins, and hoped that Mr. Brigs could furnish him with board and a convenient room in his house.