“He is a Southerner—from his voice,” said her husband, who was Judge Rockfield, one of the ablest and most noted men at that time in public life; one of the wisest in council, and who, though his conservatism in that period of fierce passion kept him from being as prominent as some who were more violent and more radical, yet was esteemed one of the ablest and soundest men in the country. He was a Senator from his State, and the owner of one of the leading and most powerful journals in the country. Dr. Cary, having given the old negro his address, took a street-car to try to overhaul his friends. It was quite full, and the Doctor secured the last vacant seat. A few blocks farther on, several persons boarded the car, among them the elderly gentleman and his wife and daughter, already mentioned, and another lady. The Doctor rose instantly. “Will you take my seat, madam?” he said to the nearest lady, with a bow. The other ladies were still left standing, though there were many men seated; but the next second a young fellow farther down the car rose, and gave up his seat. As he took his stand the Doctor caught his eye. “‘The Athenians praise hospitality, the Lacedemonians practise it,’” he said in a distinct voice that went through the car, and with a bow to the young fellow which brought a blush of pride to his pleasant face. The next moment the gentleman who had entered with his wife touched the Doctor on his arm. “I beg your pardon: is your name Cary?” “Yes, sir.” “Can this be John Cary of Birdwood?” “Yes, sir.” “Don’t you remember Anson Rockfield?” “Why, Rockfield, my old college-mate!” exclaimed the Doctor. The two men grasped each other’s hands with a warmth which drew to them the attention and interest of the whole car. “Rockfield, you see I am still quoting Plutarch,” said the Doctor. “And still practising his principles,” said the Senator, smiling, as he presented him to his wife. “My dear, this is the man to whom you are indebted for whatever is good in me. But for him I should have gone to the d—l years before you knew me.” “He gives me far too much credit, madam, and himself far too little,” said the Doctor. “I am sure that ever to have been able to win the prizes he has won he must have been always worthy, as worthy as a man can be of a woman.” He bowed low to Mrs. Rockfield. Senator Rockfield urged the Doctor to come at once to his house and be his guest while in the city, an invitation which his wife promptly seconded with much graciousness. “Let us show you that some of the Athenians practise as well as praise hospitality,” she said, smiling. Thanking them, the Doctor excused himself from accepting the invitation, but said that with Mrs. Rockfield’s permission he would call and pay his respects, and he did so that evening.