"Oh! then you must be a granddaughter of old Moses Lybrand, who kept a livery stable up in Race street; and his son Aaron always used to drive the best carriage, after the old man was past doing it himself. Is your father's name Aaron?" "No, madam," said Miss Lybrand--looking very red--"My father's name is Richard." "Richard--he must have been one of the second wife's children. Oh! I remember seeing him about when he was a little boy. He had a curly head, and on week days generally wore a gray jacket and corduroy trowsers; but he had a nice bottle-green suit for Sunday. Yes, yes--they went to our church, and sat up in the gallery. And he was your father, was he? Then Aaron must have been your own uncle. He was a very careful driver for a young man. He learnt of his father. I remember just after we were first married, Mr. Quimby hiring Moses Lybrand's best carriage to take me and my bridesmaids and groomsmen on a trip to Germantown. It was a yellow coachee with red curtains, and held us all very well with close packing. In those days people like us took their wedding rides to Germantown and Frankford and Darby, and ordered a dinner at a tavern with custards and whips, and came home in the evening. And the high-flyers, when _they_ got married, went as far as Chester or Dunks's Ferry. They did not then start off from the church door and scour the roads all the way to Niagara just because they were brides and grooms; as if that was any reason for flying their homes directly. But pray what has become of your uncle Aaron?" "I do not know," said the young lady, looking much displeased; "I never heard of him." "But did not you tell me your grandfather's name was Moses?" "There may have been other Moses Lybrands." "Was not he a short pockmarked man, that walked a little lame, with something of a cast in his right eye: or, I won't be positive, may be it was in the left?" "I am very sure papa's father was no such looking person," replied Miss Lybrand, "but I never saw him--he died before I was born--" "Poor old man," resumed Mrs. Quimby, "if I remember right, Moses became childish many years before his death." Miss Lybrand then rose hastily, and proposed to her immediate companions a walk farther into the woods; and Myrtilla, leaving the vicinity of Mr. Smith, came forward and joined them: her friends making a private signal to her not to invite the aforesaid gentleman to accompany them. Aunt Quimby saw them depart, and looking round said--"Why, Mr. Smith--have the girls given you the slip? But to be sure, they meant you to follow them!" Mr. Smith signified that he had not courage to do so without an invitation, and that he feared he had already been tiring Miss Cheston. "Pho, pho," said Mrs. Quimby, "you are quite too humble. Pluck up a little spirit, and run after the girls." "I believe," replied he, "I cannot take such a liberty." "Then I'll call Captain Cheston to introduce you to some more gentlemen. Here--Bromley--"