He was sitting one evening, revolving in his mind some of the pleasant memories of days long past, and scenes in which that sister had been always at his side, when a purpose he had formed, of writing forthwith to inquire after her welfare, and inform her of the health and happiness of his own domestic circle, was frustrated by the arrival of tidings from New York, that an officer in the British Navy, the son of his sister Mrs. Fitzgerald, had just arrived in port, and would come down to visit him in a few days. The heart of the affectionate old man throbbed with joy at the prospect of embracing his young relative. “He is a noble fellow I doubt not,” said he to his daughter. “A little wild in his youth, I have heard that his strange adventures gave my sister much pain, but young men will be thoughtless, and women’s fears often outrun discretion, you know, my little Eva.” “Yes,” he continued to himself, as she went dancing on, to spread the joyful news of the arrival of a gay young visitor, through the house, “the boldest and finest spirits often commit extravagancies, before education and experience give them the right bent, ‘the upward and onward course.’ Poor fellow! he has had little of that best instruction, a father’s high and pure example. Fitzgerald is an honest man, as the world goes, but I doubt if he could teach his son any thing better than to scrape together ingots. But half the blood in his veins is _Carlisle_, and that could not flow on in the same current with any thing mean or dishonorable. Besides, he wears his majesty’s uniform; so, as his father would say, _the balance_ is in favor of his being a brave man and a true.”