“Not better, certainly, but in a more exalted rank, in a position of more recognized distinction,” said Foglass, blandly. “No; nor that neither,” cried Dalton, angrily. “The Daltons goes back to the ancient times of all. There 's one of our name in the Bible. I 'm not sure where, but I believe it 's in the Book of Kings, or maybe the Psalms; but wherever it is, he was a real gentleman, living on his own estate, with his livery-servants, and his horses, and everything in good style about him; high on the grand jury, maybe the sheriff of the county.” Foglass, who had followed this description but imperfectly, could only bow in a deep acknowledgment of what he did not understand. “The man that marries Kate Dalton isn't doing a piece of condescension, anyhow! that I can tell him. The dirty acres may slip away from us, but our good blood won't.” “No man has a higher veneration for blood, sir,” said Foglass, proudly; “few men have better reason for the feeling.” “Is Fogles an old stock?” asked Dalton, eagerly. “Foglass, like Fitzroy, sir, may mean more than loyalty would dare to avow. My father, Mr. Dalton But this is a very sad theme with me, let us change it; let us drink to a better feeling in our native land, when that abominable statute may be erased from our code, when that offspring of suspicion and distrust shall no longer be the offence and opprobrium of Englishmen. Here 's to its speedy and everlasting repeal!” The word was talismanic to Dalton, connected, as it was, in his mind with but one subject. He arose at once, and holding up his goblet in the air, cried out, “Hip! hip! hurrah! three cheers and success to it! Repeal forever!” Foglass echoed the sentiment with equal enthusiasm, and draining his glass to the bottom, exclaimed, “Thank you, Dalton! thank you; the heartiness of that cheer tells me we are friends; and although you know not what my feelings are indeed none can you can execrate with honest indignation those hateful unions!” “Bad luck to it!” exclaimed Dalton, with energy. “We never had grace nor luck since we saw it!” “Those petty German sovereigns, with their territories the size of Hyde Park!” said Foglass, with intense contempt. “Just so. The Hessians!” chimed in Dalton, who had a faint consciousness that the other was alluding to the troops of the Electorate, once quartered in Ireland. “Let us change the topic, Dalton,” said Foglass, pathetically, as he wiped his brow like a man dispelling a dark train of thought. “Here's to that charming young lady I saw last evening, a worthy sister of the beautiful Miss Dalton.” “A better child never breathed,” said Dalton, drinking off his glass. “My own poor Nelly,” muttered he, below his breath, “'t is better than handsome ye are, true-hearted, and fond of your old father.”