“I wanted to see her, at any rate. Fellows don’t often speak of their sisters, Mrs. Hungerford, as Eugene did when we were at college together.” “Well, I think she deserves all that he may have said of her,” said the matron. “Come, Dick, I will show you your room;” and loaded with valise, guns, fishing rods, and game bags, the young men went up stairs. When they came down, Julia had returned, and she was formally introduced to the guest, of whom she had heard encomiums before, bordering upon the extravagant. Dick was not a handsome man, like Mr. Eliot Buckstone, whom we left in the boat with Miss Kingman; neither was he ugly or ill made. He had a sharp, bright eye, and his face was noble rather than handsome. He looked like a man of intellect, of high purposes, and grand ideas, rather than one of those masculine monstrosities whom some weak-minded females call “pretty.” Bah! the idea is nauseating. To be pretty is the prerogative of young ladies, though Heaven defend them if this be all they have! Julia was not very pretty, though none would have called her homely. Perhaps she was a little disposed to be “strong-minded;” not in the offensive sense, and only enough so to have a certain contempt for things weak and effeminate. She was not afraid of spiders, or even of striped snakes. She had actually read Locke and Bacon, as well as Scott and Dickens. She had heard a great deal about Dick Birch, and was prepared to see a miracle of all that is grand and noble in man. She blushed slightly when she met the full gaze of his sharp eye, and took his offered hand. “This is the great moment of my life, Miss Hungerford,” said the guest. “You have been set forth to me as a princess among sisters.” “And you to me as a prince among friends,” she replied. “When you are a candidate for the presidency, I shall certainly vote for you if woman’s rights are recognized by that time.” “Thank you. I shall certainly be elected then; though, perhaps, you would like to know my principles before you give me your suffrage.” “Probably you will have none by that time.” “I certainly shall, if, when I reach that bad eminence, I can make up my mind beforehand which is to be the winning side. Do you take me for a politician?” “I hope you won’t quarrel in the beginning,” interposed Eugene. “I hope not; but I forgot I had a letter for you, Eugene,” said Julia, as she handed him a large envelope, post-marked Baltimore. “Excuse me, Dick,” said he, as he opened the package. It contained, among other papers, a draft for fifty thousand dollars, forwarded by the eminent merchants, trustees under John Hungerford’s will. It was the income which had accrued before and since the death of the _millionnaire_ There were two other drafts for the legacies due Mrs. Hungerford and Julia. “Fifty thousand dollars! That is more money than I ever saw,” exclaimed Eugene. “May Heaven be kind to you!” added Dick. “After tea, you will tell me what to do with it, Dick.”