"My dear sir," he rejoined, "you have fallen into the midst of relations. Almost every one you saw around you is more or less connected with you, by blood or marriage. My uncle married your aunt; consequently we are first cousins, in law at least; all my children are in the next degree to you. Mr. Hubbard is as nearly connected. Mr. Alsiger stands in the same relationship, and our pretty little Bessy is your second cousin by blood." He paused, and thought for a moment, and then added, in a very grave tone,-- "So far this is all very satisfactory---that you should have come here in the first instance--that you should have come _incog_.--and that I should have divined all about it by a certain resemblance that you bear to an old picture at your aunt's house. But much must be thought of, Sir Richard--much must be told--many plans must be arranged. We must make a late sitting of it tonight, that you may have time to sleep over the matter, and take what steps you think fit to-morrow, not without deliberation. But, hark! There is a horse trotting up to the house." Walking to the door, he opened it, calling to one of the negroes, and saying--"C[ae]sar, tell Mr. Hubbard I hope he is not going home to-night. He is in the porch. Say I want to see him, to have some conversation with him." Then, turning to me, he added--"His advice may be very useful to us; he was once one of the most eminent counsel in Virginia; but his voice has become feeble; and he quitted the bar in consequence, I believe, of a rude judge saying to him--'Speak out, Mr. Hubbard! Neither judge nor jury can hear you.' He answered quietly, 'The ears of justice are somewhat deaf in Virginia.' But he never appeared at the bar again. His advice, however, is always excellent, for it's law and it's honesty. I would not advise a rogue to consult him; but he is the best adviser for a man of honour." He had hardly concluded the last sentence, when the servant to whom he had called opened the door, and said, in much better English than the negroes usually employ,-- "A gentleman, come on horseback, wants to speak with you, sir." "Show him in," said Mr. Thornton promptly; but then added, "What sort of a man is he, C[ae]sar?" "Very smart gentleman, sir," answered Caesar, with a slight snigger, if I may use such an expression. "Too smart; has got a good horse though." "Well, show him in," repeated Mr. Thornton. The moment after, who should be ushered into the room but my fellow-traveller, Mr. Lewis himself, as much bedizened with rings and diamonds as ever. Mr. Thornton arose from his seat as the other entered, surveyed him quietly, and then remained standing. What it was in his air and manner I do not know; but I came to the conclusion merely from his look, that he comprehended in a moment the character of his visitor, and I watched the little scene that ensued with no slight interest. "Mr. Thornton, I presume?" said Mr. Lewis, with a sweet soft air.