THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES

 
 WEALTH AND WORTH; 
 
 WHICH MAKES THE MAN? 
 
 The honest man, tho' e'er sae poor 
 Is king of men for a' that. BURNS.' 
 
 NEW-YORK: 
 
 HARPER & BROTHERS, 82 CLIFF-ST. 
 1842.
 
 Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1841, by 
 
 HAKPER & BROTHERS, 
 In the Clerk's Office of the Southern District of New-York.
 
 ADVERTISEMENT. 
 
 THIS is the first of a contemplated series of 
 " American Family Tales." The greater part 
 of our current literature, both for young and old, 
 is of English origin, often unsuited in its tone to 
 a full sympathy with our republican institutions, 
 and generating associations with foreign scenes 
 and modes of life, instead of fostering sentiments 
 of attachment to our own native soil and people. 
 
 To infuse an earnest, independent, American 
 spirit, uncontaminated by intolerance toward 
 other governments and nations to encourage a 
 taste for gratifications of the intellect in prefer 
 ence to those of the senses, without forgetting 
 the superior importance of the inculcation of 
 those principles of action, which a reverential 
 faith in the divine origin of the Christian code of 
 morals enforces such will be the paramount ob 
 jects regarded in the preparation of these tales.
 
 WEALTH AND WORTH; 
 
 OR, 
 
 WHICH MAKES THE MAN? 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 They say that first and only love 
 
 Outlives all after dreams ; 
 But the memory of a first great grief 
 
 To me more lasting seems. 
 
 " You had better defer your sail, Harry." 
 " Why so, sir ? The water is smooth, and the 
 weather calm." 
 
 " It is calm here where we stand, I acknowledge, 
 Harry ; but do you not see the movement in those 
 clouds that frown over the Palisades 1 There is 
 every sign of a squall." 
 
 " Quite a mistake, my dear father. Those clouds 
 have been there these three weeks ; and though 
 they look big and black at times, they seem to be 
 very well disposed, peaceable clouds indeed. I 
 am not afraid of them." 
 
 " Hark ! Did I not hear thunder ?" 
 " You heard the rumbling of a carriage along 
 the south road. There ! the clouds are breaking 
 away, and drifting down to the horizon. We shall 
 not have rain."
 
 8 WEALTH AND WORTH J OR, 
 
 " Look at the barometer. See ! it declares the 
 weather cloudy and variable." 
 
 " The barometer, sir, is a humbug. It is a catch 
 penny affair altogether an old woman's toy." 
 
 " Upon my word, Mr. Harry, you are a very 
 knowing young man. I am foolish enough, how 
 ever, to take the barometer's prediction with re 
 gard to the weather in preference to yours. Upon 
 other subjects I will not doubt the superiority of 
 your judgment. But you must not venture upon 
 the river to-day. So make up your mind to be con 
 tented on shore. I am going to the city. Would 
 you like to accompany me ?" 
 
 " No, sir." 
 
 " Very well. Take care of yourself. I shall be 
 back before twilight." 
 
 And so saying, Mr. Maverick stepped into his 
 neat little wagon, took the reins from his attend 
 ant, and laying the lash gently upon his span of 
 beautiful horses, was borne away at a brisk speed 
 toward the great city. 
 
 As for Harry, he stood a moment, biting his lips 
 with evident vexation, and then dashed his cap 
 upon the ground. What a disappointment, what 
 an affliction, what a barbarous and deplorable thing 
 it was, that he could not take the sail he had an 
 ticipated ! 
 
 To be sure, there were other resources of amuse 
 ment within his reach. He might order out his 
 pony, and take a ride. He might fish in the trout- 
 pond, or pluck fruit in the garden. There was a 
 library filled with the most costly and attractive 
 books, that the European and American press had 
 sent forth during the last fifty years ; with port 
 folios of engravings, casts from the antique, cam-
 
 WHICH MAKES THE MAN ? 9 
 
 eoes, medals, and coins. Was he of a mechanical 
 turn ? There was a work-shop with a turning- 
 machine, and all the tools which an amateur cab 
 inet-maker could desire. The green-house was 
 well worth studying if he had any botanical taste ; 
 and if he had a love for natural scenery, there was 
 the observatory, from which a noble view of the 
 Hudson, its Palisades and Highlands, and the 
 steamboats and small vessels, which give ani 
 mation to its surface, could be descried. 
 
 Few spots could be compared to Eagleswood 
 in natural charms, and few could be more elegant 
 ly embellished by art. The mansion stood upon 
 the slope of a broad and picturesque hill, and was 
 at once elegant and commodious. Proudly did it 
 lift its white front above the tufted elms, that seem 
 ed heaping clouds of verdure around it ; and proud 
 ly did it look forth upon the lovely landscape, that 
 spread its various beauties on every side. The 
 voyagers on the Hudson would turn to it, and ask 
 who was the owner of that fair domain. It was 
 the place of Mr. Maverick. And who was Mr. 
 Maverick ? 
 
 Mr. Maverick was a Virginian by birth. He 
 had removed to New York in early life ; and, as 
 a tobacco merchant, had accumulated a large pro 
 perty. Fortune smiled upon all his enterprises. 
 He married a lady of fashion, purchased a house 
 in town, and the splendid estate of Eagleswood 
 on the Hudson, and maintained an establishment, 
 which, though expensive, did not oblige him to over 
 step his income. The offspring of his marriage 
 were two children ; one, Henry, the hopeful lad 
 whom I have introduced to the charitable considera 
 tion of my readers ; the other, Emmeline, who was
 
 10 WEALTH AND WORTH ; OR, 
 
 now a blooming girl, some three years younger 
 than her brother. 
 
 Mrs. Maverick was an affectionate mother, and 
 a lady of rare sweetness of manners ; but having 
 been in her youth a successful belle, she had con 
 tracted some faults, which impaired her usefulness 
 in the domestic sphere. She was too apt to attach 
 value to mere appearances, and to be solicitous 
 rather for the applause of the world than for the no 
 bler and more enduring approbation of the con 
 science a grievous mistake ! 
 
 But we must not leave our friend Harry any 
 longer, standing in no amiable mood, with his cap 
 flung on the grass. Miserable and oppressed as 
 he thinks himself to be, I suspect there are thou 
 sands of boys who would gladly change situations 
 with him. Has he not everything around him to 
 inspire content an elegant home, affectionate 
 parents, a lovely little sister, with horses, dogs, and 
 servants ? What would the boy have more ? Ah ! 
 he has been forbidden to take a sail. 
 
 " What shall I do ?" murmured Harry to himself, 
 taking up his cap. " Here I promised Charley 
 Brudenel that I would take him out in my new 
 boat this afternoon ; and he will think me a sneak 
 if I disappoint him. The weather is fine enough. 
 I can see no prospect of a shower. The sky is 
 quite clear ; and the river is covered all over with 
 sunshine. Where is the danger ? I think I will 
 step over to Charley's, and talk with him about it." 
 
 As Harry passed along the piazza, his eye fell 
 upon the barometer. The perverse instrument in 
 flexibly adhered to its old story. " cloudy and va 
 riable." Harry seized a stick, and seemed dis 
 posed to break the impertinent, tell-tale glass into
 
 WHICH MAKES THE MAN? 11 
 
 atoms ; but, recollecting that he would not be likely 
 to change the intentions of the elements by so do 
 ing, he prudently refrained. 
 
 It was not far to Charley Brudenel's. Harry 
 found him at work in the flower-garden, cutting 
 flowers for his sister, who was arranging them in 
 vases. On seeing his companion, Charley threw 
 down his knife, and making a speaking-trumpet of 
 his two fists, exclaimed : " Skipper, ahoy ! what 
 cheer ?" 
 
 " All on board !" replied Harry, wholly forget 
 ful of his father's command. 
 
 " Ay, ay, sir," answered Charley, who was im 
 moderately fond of " playing sailor ;" and, as he 
 had seen sailors do, he hitched up his trousers, 
 fixed his hat upon the side of his head, and ran to 
 meet the " skipper," as he called him. 
 
 " Where are you going, Charles ?" cried Mary 
 Brudenel ; but he merely waved his hat in reply, 
 and was soon out of sight with his companion. 
 They proceeded down a lane, shaded with forest- 
 trees, and fragrant with sweet brier, and were soon 
 at the river's side near the boat-house. 
 
 Charles Brudenel was the son of the clergyman 
 of the village, in which Eagleswood was situ 
 ated. A fair-haired, blue-eyed boy was Charles ; 
 slight in his figure, but symmetrical and active. 
 Being somewhat studious in his tastes, he had to 
 be checked rather than stimulated in his applica 
 tion to books ; and his parents, fearing that his con 
 stitution was feeble, had encouraged him in all out- 
 of-door sports and exercises. In these, Harry 
 Maverick was his leader, and Charles proved no 
 backward pupil. His adventurous spirit, his lively 
 imagination, his sunny and affectionate temper
 
 12 WEALTH AND WORTH ; OR, 
 
 made him a great favorite at Eagleswood. In 
 both his sports and his studies, Harry considered 
 him an ally, without whom he could not be at ease. 
 The consequence was, that Charles passed almost 
 as much of his time with the Mavericks, as with 
 his own family. And when, as frequently happen 
 ed, his sister and Emmeline, Henry and himself, 
 rambled forth to see the sun set from the surround 
 ing hills 
 
 " No dolphin ever was so gay, 
 Upon the tropic sea." 
 
 The boys pushed off in the gay little boat, which 
 had recently come into Harry's possession. At 
 first they contented themselves with rowing about 
 near the shore, where the smooth surface of the 
 water was green from the overhanging trees. But 
 they soon grew more adventurous. The river 
 flashed merrily in its middle course ; and there was 
 a brisk breeze with a fair sky. 
 
 " Let us up with her mast, and out with her can 
 vass !" cried Charles. " Come ! a wet sheet and 
 a flowing sea ! Huzza !" 
 
 " Agreed !" said Harry ; and in a few moments 
 the boat was scudding through the spray, like a 
 frightened sea-bird. 
 
 "The Arrow for ever!" shouted Charles: 
 " what a dashing little craft she is ! How fast 
 she leaves the water behind her ! See ! We 
 have almost crossed the river. It is time to tack 
 ship, skipper !" 
 
 " Ready about !" replied Harry ; and the Arrow 
 was soon back again near the point from which 
 she had started. 
 
 " There is old Hotspur on the shore. We must
 
 WHICH MAKES THE MAN? 13 
 
 have him with us," said Harry, pointing to a fine 
 Newfoundland dog, which had been presented to 
 him by a sea captain in his father's service. 
 " Here, Hotspur ! Come here, old fellow." 
 
 Hotspur barked, and then ran away a short dis 
 tance, as if he wholly disapproved of the enter 
 prise. 
 
 " We can do without you, Mr. Hotspur," said 
 Charles ; and the boys prepared to cross the river 
 once more. 
 
 The wind, during this trip, had increased a lit 
 tle ; but the Arrow carried them gallantly through 
 the foam. Again they turned her head homeward. 
 But they now found that the breeze blew from a 
 different quarter, and that it was necessary to beat 
 across, or adopt a zigzag course, in order to reach 
 the pier at Eagleswood. The sky was by no 
 means so clear as it had been. It wore a sullen, 
 lurid aspect in many places. In fact, the weather 
 was, as the barometer had indicated, " cloudy and 
 variable." 
 
 " Now, be ready to shift the sail at a moment's 
 notice, Charley," cried Henry Maverick, who was 
 at the helm. 
 
 " Ay, ay !" replied Charles, humming the lines 
 of a nautical song 
 
 " As she lay, on that day, 
 In the Bay of Biscay, !" 
 
 Three times did the boys succeed in " tacking 
 ship," as they expressed it. They were rapidly 
 approaching the shore. They could plainly see 
 Hotspur, who was running about, snuffing the air, 
 and regarding the adventurers with an anxious eye, 
 as the wind increased. Charles had got to the 
 2
 
 14 WEALTH AND WORTH ; OR, 
 
 last couplet of his song, and, with great glee, was 
 singing 
 
 " Now we sail with the gale, 
 From the Bay of Biscay, O !" 
 
 " About for the last time !" cried Harry. 
 
 His companion attempted to loosen the sail so 
 that the wind might take it on the other tack, but 
 before he could effect his purpose, the breeze had 
 veered and swollen to a gale, which smote the boat 
 so forcibly as to capsize her in an instant. Harry 
 was thrown by the shock some distance into the 
 water ; but before Charles could disentangle him 
 self from the ropes about the mast, the Arrow had 
 rilled and sunk, carrying him with her to the 
 bottom. 
 
 Both the boys were good swimmers ; but skill 
 no longer availed poor Charles. Although the 
 wind was loud and the waves were high, Harry 
 did not lose his self-possession until he learned 
 that his companion had not risen to the surface. 
 Then his agony amounted almost to insanity. He 
 shrieked to the hurrying winds made desperate 
 efforts to dive shouted madly for aid, and called 
 upon his comrade's name in heart-piercing tones. 
 At length, exhausted by his efforts, wild with grief, 
 and caring little for his own life, if his friend's 
 could not be restored, he too sank beneath the 
 turbulent waters. 
 
 The accident had happened hardly an eighth 
 of a mile from the shore ; and on witnessing his 
 master's struggles and hearing his cries, Hotspur 
 had jumped eagerly into the water, and was now 
 rapidly paddling his way toward the scene of the 
 disaster. He seized the unconscious boy by the
 
 WHICH MAKES THE MAN ? 15 
 
 collar, as the tide was hurrying him away, and, 
 with much effort, swam with him to the shore. 
 Not to leave his good offices incomplete, the saga 
 cious brute then galloped away toward the house, 
 until he met a black groom, named Mingo, whom 
 Mr. Maverick had brought with him many years 
 before from Virginia. 
 
 Mingo was moving along at the straggling gait 
 peculiar to the Africans, to seek shelter from the 
 storm, when Hotspur placed himself in his way, 
 barking violently, and leaping up to his shoulders. 
 " Down ! down !" said Mingo ; but the dog only 
 barked the more. At length, finding that no attention 
 was paid to him, Hotspur, as if aware of the ne 
 gro's tender point, began biting his shins, while, 
 by his barking, he said, as plainly as dog could say, 
 " Follow me." Mingo could no longer resist such 
 importunities. He followed the dog, until he found 
 Master Harry lying senseless upon the sand. 
 Shocked and terrified, he raised him in his arms 
 and bore him home. 
 
 On returning to consciousness, the unfortunate 
 boy found himself in his own little chamber, with a 
 physician by his side, and his mother and sister 
 sitting at the foot of the bed, gazing anxiously into 
 his face. In a moment he vividly recalled the 
 scene, through which he had passed ; and, uttering 
 a faint moan, he sank back again, senseless 
 
 For a month, but slender hopes were entertained 
 of his recovery. A confirmed fever, accompanied 
 by delirium, during which his mind was prin 
 cipally occupied with recollections of his lost play 
 mate, had prostrated his system ; and medical aid 
 seemed to be of little avail. At length, however, 
 reason once more dawned upon the chaos of his
 
 16 
 
 WEALTH AND WORTH J OR, 
 
 thoughts. The first indication of this happy change 
 was a prolonged fit of weeping, followed by a 
 sound sleep. 
 
 How constantly, during all this time, had little 
 Emmeline watched by her brother's bedside ! and 
 how fervently had she prayed every night for his 
 restoration ! And now, when the fever had at 
 length been subdued, with what a tender solicitude 
 did she glide on tip-toe about the room, and minis 
 ter to every want, before it had betrayed itself in 
 words ! Dear Emmeline !
 
 
 WHICH MAKES THE MAN ? 17 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 " This anguish will be wearied down, I know ; 
 What pang is permanent with man ? From the highest, 
 As from the vilest thing of every day, 
 He learns to wean himself; for the strong- hours 
 Conquer him." SCHILLER. 
 
 " COME, Harry ! The weather is delightful ; and 
 the doctor says I may lead you forth into the gar 
 den. The dahlias are all in bloom ; and such 
 heaps of grapes, green and purple, you never saw ! 
 There, take my arm. Here is your hat. What 
 a funny, Quaker-like little hat it is ! Why, you 
 can walk almost as fast as I can." 
 
 Harry smiled faintly, as Emmeline rattled on 
 with such exclamations as these. They entered 
 the library. The sunshine was streaming through 
 the catalpa-trees before the southern windows, and 
 dancing with the mottled shadows upon the carpet. 
 How warm and pleasant everything appeared ! 
 The familiar statues and busts seemed to welcome 
 the restored invalid as he passed along ; and the 
 very books, with their gilt bindings, looked instinfct-^ 
 with cheerfulness. 
 
 Emmeline threw open the long windows, and 
 led him forth upon the piazza. How joyfully were 
 the trees waving in the sunlight ! Old Hotspur 
 seemed frantie with delight at seeing his young mas 
 ter again. He would fly round him, barking ve 
 hemently then crouch upon the ground, and beat 
 his tail about like a flail and then rush toward
 
 18 WEALTH AND WORTH ; OR, 
 
 him as if he meant to devour him, but stop sud 
 denly and look intently up in his face. Harry 
 could not but be pleased. Emmeline led him to 
 the summer-house, and ran and gathered for him 
 the ripest grapes, singing 
 
 Let us flit as bright as spring ; 
 Let us naught but pleasure bring ; 
 Let us teach the world to be 
 Happy, blithe, and gay as we." 
 
 Hotspur seemed to enter into the spirit of her 
 endeavor, and for hours they amused Harry, till he 
 began to think that there were things worth living 
 for, though Charles had passed away. Still, in the 
 midst of his new feelings of contentment, a tear 
 would occasionally steal down his cheek ; but it 
 was no longer the tear of pain and hopeless grief. 
 Smiles would precede and follow it, as sunshine 
 does the showers of April. 
 
 Our young friend now began rapidly to recover 
 his health. It was the soft autumnal season, when 
 our aboriginal forests are dyed with such varied 
 and gorgeous hues ; and indescribably grateful to 
 him was the " blest power of sunshine," as it 
 flooded the woods and the fields. We hardly appre 
 ciate the every-day blessings around us until we 
 have been deprived of their enjoyment for a time 
 by ill health ; and Harry, as he rode forth with 
 Emmeline through the picturesque lanes of Ea- 
 gleswood, or by the shady edge of the river, could 
 not but thank the great Creator and Giver of all 
 good things for his exceeding bounty. That heart 
 must be corrupt indeed, in which the sentiment of 
 praise and benediction to a First Great Cause is not 
 an instinctive offering ; but it should not be a sen-
 
 WHICH MAKES THE MAN ? 19 
 
 timent merely. It must be mingled with a vital 
 principle, influencing our daily conduct, and puri 
 fying all our motives. Enthusiasm for what is 
 good, without good works, can avail nothing. If 
 we are sincere, we shall do that which we pretend 
 to approve. 
 
 Harry's health was now so fully established, 
 that his father advised him to return to his studies 
 without delay. There was a young Englishman, 
 named Wainbridge, in the neighborhood, from Ox 
 ford, an excellent scholar, who gave instruction to 
 a limited number of pupils. Henry made one 
 of them. His first impressions of his instructer 
 were not favorable. There was a gravity about 
 Mr. Wainbridge's manner, which seemed to repel 
 affection ; a settled melancholy, which presented 
 few allurements to the young and light-hearted. 
 But Harry soon saw, or fancied that he saw, a 
 native sweetness of temper beneath this austerity ; 
 and then, Mr. Wainbridge, though in feeble health, 
 was so patient and thorough in his efforts to in 
 struct ; so earnest was he in attempting to make 
 up the deficient application of his pupils by his 
 clear and impressive explanations, that Harry be 
 gan by respecting, and ended by loving him. He 
 now applied himself to study, less because his 
 tasks were grateful, than because he was anxious 
 to save his tutor trouble. 
 
 There is no friendship more honorable to both 
 parties than that between an intelligent pupil and 
 his instructer. Mr. Wainbridge could not fail to 
 perceive and to reciprocate the attachment mani 
 fested toward him by Henry Maverick ; and the 
 Oxonian's habits of utter seclusion and solitude 
 soon began to be broken in upon by occasional
 
 20 WEALTH AND WORTH ; OR, 
 
 visits to Eagleswood. A little incident in the his 
 tory of Mr. Wainbridge, which had become known 
 through a chambermaid in the house where he re 
 sided, who had impertinently pried into his pa 
 pers, served to increase Harry's sympathy, and to 
 account, in a degree, for the habitually dejected 
 manner of the tutor. He had been privately mar 
 ried to a lady of high rank and great beauty in 
 England. Her father, a nobleman, who was the 
 personification of family pride, had been so much 
 exasperated in consequence, as to refuse to see 
 her, after what he chose to call her degradation. 
 Wainbridge, however, had a little annuity, on 
 which he was enabled to live ; and, for a year or 
 two, he resided at a neat little cottage in the 
 neighborhood of London, happy in his domestic 
 relations, and busily engaged upon a mathematical 
 work, from which he hoped to derive profit and 
 fame. His wife was ardently attached to him ; 
 and the only cloud upon their felicity was the 
 sense of her father's implacable resentment. 
 
 One morning at breakfast, as his wife was pour 
 ing him out a cup of tea, and he was reading the 
 Times newspaper, she was alarmed at seeing him 
 start and turn pale, as if at the perusal of afflict 
 ing news. And afflicting it was to both of them ! 
 The banker, in whose hands his whole property 
 was vested, had failed the day before, and sailed 
 for America. The blow was overwhelming. Noth 
 ing was saved from the wreck. Instant beggary 
 stared poor Wainbridge in the face. 
 
 He attempted at once to find a purchaser for his 
 mathematical work ; but the booksellers laughed 
 at the idea of publishing what so few persons 
 would understand and appreciate. At length, af-
 
 WHICH MAKES THE MAN? 21 
 
 ter indefatigable researches, he found that the most 
 eligible employment which presented itself, was 
 that of usher in a large day-school, where the re 
 muneration was hardly sufficient for the support 
 of a single person. 
 
 In the midst of his troubles and perplexities, 
 the brother of his wife, Sir William Ormsby, a 
 young nobleman of rather profligate habits, and, 
 like his father, a slave to family pride, called upon, 
 Mrs. Wainbridge in her husband s absence. After 
 upbraiding her for her " disgraceful match," and 
 reminding her that she might have married Lord 
 Fitzdash, who had the " most bang-up turnout in 
 the three kingdoms," he informed her that the 
 object of his visit was to say, that her too indul 
 gent father, hearing of the " absolute pauperism of 
 that fellow Wainbridge," had consented to offer 
 her an asylum in his own house, provided she 
 would not see her husband so long as she remain 
 ed with the family. 
 
 Mrs. Wainbridge, like a true wife, firmly reject 
 ed this proposal ; and the brother, making an inhu 
 man remark about " leaving her to die in a gutter," 
 quitted the house. The question now arose in her 
 mind, would it not be better to conceal from her 
 husband the fact of the visit and the proposition ? 
 Alas for the wife who takes the first step in con 
 cealment and deceit, be her intentions ever so gen 
 erous ! The moment that there is the slightest 
 withdrawal of candor and confidence is a moment 
 of peril to her own peace and that of her compan 
 ion. Mrs. Wainbridge decided rightly in this case. 
 She determined to tell her husband what had trans 
 pired ; and she told him. He quickly decided as 
 to his own course. Tenderly attached as he was
 
 22 WEALTH AND WORTH : OR, 
 
 to his wife, he resolved, on finding that they were 
 likely to be subjected to extreme privations, to in 
 duce her to accept the proffered aid of those, who 
 were bound by every sacred tie to succor her from 
 their abundance. He would place her with her 
 father, and then seek his own fortune in America. 
 And this he did, in spite of her remonstrances, and 
 her urgent wish to accompany him. The uncer 
 tainties of a career in an untried country, forbade 
 him to peril the peace of one so dear. He had 
 now been in the United States three months, and 
 had recently heard of the birth of a daughter ; al 
 though, by the tyrannical contrivance of his father- 
 in-law, the letters written by his wife had all been 
 withheld. His own letters to her were also, with 
 out doubt, intercepted. Such was Wainbridge's 
 story. 
 
 Among his present pupils, was a youth named 
 Hardworth, the son of a gentleman of reputed 
 wealth, occupying, not far from Eagleswood, a 
 country-seat, where the family resided during the 
 summer and autumnal months. This family con 
 sisted of Mr. and Mrs. Hardworth, two daughters, 
 and a son, Master Ravenstone Hardworth. They 
 were proud, not only of their rich possessions, but 
 of their ancestral connexions. Mr. Hardworth 
 could boast his relationship to one of the royal co 
 lonial governors, and his wife was never weary of 
 impressing upon her children the fact, that her 
 great-grandfather was the nephew of an English 
 nobleman, Sir Charles Ravenstone. 
 
 It has been said, that none are insensible to pride 
 of birth, save those whose genealogy is obscure. 
 But we will not think so poorly of human nature 
 as to admit this. Illustrious birth should render
 
 WHICH MAKES THE MAN ? 23 
 
 us careful not to tarnish a great name ; but the 
 ambition of shining with reflected light, does not 
 speak much for the credit of our own virtues and 
 abilities. In this land of free institutions, there 
 are few frailties more pitiful than that which leads 
 a man to boast of his genealogy. He should rather 
 feel mortification that he is not himself as great 
 or as good as the forefather, from whose fame he 
 would derive a claim to notice : 
 
 " Boast not the titles of your ancestors, 
 Brave youths ! they're their possessions, none of yours." 
 
 Arrogance of any kind is the offspring of vul 
 garity and ignorance. The Jlardworths were, 
 consequently, notwithstanding their wealth and 
 ancestry, as far from being truly respectable as 
 the most ill-bred family in the land. As for Mas 
 ter Ravenstone Hardworth, he seemed to regard 
 himself as the personified essence of all the dig 
 nity and renown of his race ; and having been 
 always heedlessly indulged (poor fellow !) by his 
 unwise parents, he grew up an arbitrary, self-con 
 ceited young man, disliked by his dependants, and 
 laughed at by his equals. 
 
 It happened that there was a poor blacksmith in 
 the village, named Armstrong, who had a son, 
 whom he had brought up to his own trade. But 
 Ralph, for that was the lad's name, was not con 
 tent with learning to shoe horses and to manufac 
 ture spikes. He was a good mechanic, and he 
 wished to make himself a better, by the study of 
 mathematics and its kindred sciences. His father, 
 who had a large family, could not, however, afford 
 him the means of education ; and poor Ralph had 
 to be content with puzzling by himself over a few
 
 24 WEALTH AND WORTH; OR, 
 
 ragged school-books, which he had bought at a stall 
 in New York. 
 
 Mr. Wainbridge had stopped one morning at the 
 blacksmith's shop to have his horse's shoes re 
 paired, and Ralph had set about the work with his 
 usual alacrity, when the young Oxonian happened 
 to cast his eye upon a volume of Euclid, which 
 peeped forth from a jacket hung upon a nail. His 
 curiosity was at once aroused. He questioned 
 Ralph about his studies ; found that the boy had a 
 decided taste for those sciences, to which he him 
 self had devoted most of his attention ; and, at 
 length, became so interested in the self-taught ge 
 ometrician, that he offered to instruct him gratui 
 tously, if he would attend his school with the other 
 pupils. Ralph was almost ready to cry with joy 
 at the prospect of receiving the instruction he had 
 so much desired ; but then the sense of incurring 
 an obligation which he could not requite, checked 
 him as he was about to accept the generous offer, 
 and he said : 
 
 " Ah, sir ! I fear that my father, poor as he is, 
 is too rich to accept charity. He will not allow 
 me to trouble you without a compensation." 
 
 " Well, Ralph," said Mr. Wainbridge, " we will 
 easily remove that objection. The doctor says, I 
 must ride on horseback every day. Now it costs 
 something to keep a horse, and something to have 
 him shod. Why can't your father pay for your 
 instruction, by allowing you to take care of my 
 nag?" 
 
 " It will do ! it will do !" cried Ralph. " Thank 
 you, Mr. Wainbridge. I will make his skin look 
 glossy as satin, and let me see wait while I trim 

 
 WHICH MAKES THE MAN ? 25 
 
 his fetlocks. A fine animal, Mr. Wainbridge, but 
 not properly rubbed down !" 
 
 The arrangement was made. Ralph, attired in 
 clean homespun clothes, attended Mr. Wainbridge's 
 school daily, and made rapid progress in his stu 
 dies. As you may guess, the skin of Mr. Wain- 
 bridge's nag looked all the while as smooth and 
 sleek as a new beaver hat. Before many weeks, 
 Ralph was considered, next to Henry Maverick, 
 the best mathematician in the school, much to the 
 disgust and envy of Mr. Ravenstone Hardworth. 
 
 One day the boys had been working sums in 
 algebra with chalk upon a large blackboard, in 
 view of the whole school. The tutor had, for half 
 an hour, been trying to explain to Hardworth the 
 mode of solving a certain problem ; but the blood 
 of the Ravenstones could not lighten up with a 
 single ray the obtuse intellect of their descendant. 
 At length, having other pupils to attend to, Mr. 
 Wainbridge- directed Armstrong, who had a singu 
 lar faculty at imparting the knowledge he had ac 
 quired by laborious study, to attend Hardworth to 
 his desk, and assist him in the solution of his sum. 
 
 The paltry, aristocratic pride, which had been 
 inculcated by Hardworth's parents, rose up in arms 
 at this proposal ; and, with a haughty curl of the 
 lip, and in a voice that was audible to all present, 
 he said : 
 
 " You will oblige me, Mr. Wainbridge, by not 
 sending any of your hostlers to instruct me in al 
 gebra. I am not partial to the smell of a stable, 
 and permit me to say, sir, that my mother thinks it 
 very strange, you should admit a charity-scholar 
 among gentlemen's sons." 
 
 " Shame ! shame !" cried Henry Maverick, 
 3
 
 26 WEALTH AND WORTH ; OR, 
 
 springing to his feet ; " you, sir, have proved that 
 the son of a gentleman is not always a gentleman 
 himself." 
 
 " I shall remember this,' r replied Hard worth, 
 raising his finger menacingly. 
 
 Poor Ralph started forward a step with the in 
 tention of knocking down his insulter ; but his 
 veneration for the proprieties of a school-room, 
 and his respect for his instructer, checked both 
 his fist and his tongue. 
 
 Mr. Wainbridge commanded silence, and then 
 walked up to Hardworth and said : 
 
 " I have borne with your stupidity, sir, with a 
 degree of patience that I never extended to any 
 other pupil ; but your insolence and brutality are 
 insufferable. You may consider yourself no longer 
 a member of my school." 
 
 " I should consider it a disgrace to attend it any 
 longer, sir," replied Hardworth with effrontery. " I 
 withdraw my patronage from you." 
 
 " Patronage, blockhead !" said Mr. Wainbridge, 
 laying his hand upon the boy's collar. " But, no. 
 Your insolence is unworthy of my anger. Go, 
 sir, in peace." 
 
 Hardworth seized his hat, and with a face 
 flushed with rage, said, in a trembling tone, " Send 
 me an apology for this, or you will repent it." He 
 turned to leave the room, and some of the schol 
 ars began to hiss. 
 
 " I have marked you !" he exclaimed, looking 
 back ; " and there are those of you who will pay 
 dearly for this day's conduct toward me." 
 
 He opened the door, shut it with violence, and 
 departed, while a scornful laugh arose from his late 
 companions.
 
 WHICH MAKES THE MAN ? 27 
 
 " My young friends," said Mr. Wainbridge,who 
 lost no opportunity of impressing upon his pupils 
 moral as well as intellectual truths, " observe the 
 difference between a noble and ignoble pride, as 
 manifested in the example of Armstrong and of 
 Hardworth. It is not true, as that foolish young 
 man stated, that Ralph is a charity-scholar. Far 
 otherwise ! He requites me by a service, for which 
 I would have to pay more by the month than I 
 charge any pupil for his instruction. I offered to 
 instruct him gratuitously. He declined the offer ; 
 and it was a noble spirit of independence call it 
 a noble pride, if you please which induced him 
 to compensate me by honorable labor for his school 
 ing. But what a contemptible pride is that which 
 Hardworth has displayed ! The pride of family ! 
 of accidental circumstance ! of mere external glit 
 ter ! How altogether unworthy of a rational crea 
 ture how mean and false is such pretension !" 
 
 As soon as school was dismissed, our friend 
 Harry took Ralph by the hand, and invited him to 
 make such use as he pleased of the library at 
 Eagleswood an invitation which was gratefully 
 accepted. 
 
 Not many days after the occurrence in the 
 school-room, as Henry Maverick was proceeding 
 across a field to join Mr. Wainbridge, whom he 
 had observed at a distance, he saw Ravenstone 
 Hardworth issue from a wood, and, with a stick in 
 his hand, confront his late tutor. Harry was too 
 far off to hear the conversation that ensued, but it 
 was evidently of an angry character. Mr. Wain- 
 bridge seemed to motion Ravenstone away, where 
 upon the latter struck him violently with a stick, 
 and the two immediately grappled.
 
 28 WEALTH AND WORTH ; OR, 
 
 Wainbridge was enfeebled by indisposition, and 
 far inferior in strength and weight to Ravenstone, 
 who was of a robust, burly frame. The tutor 
 would have mastered him, however, had not the 
 foot of the former encountered a stump, by which 
 he was tripped up his head striking with some 
 violence against the trunk of a tree, and rendering 
 him senseless for a time. 
 
 Just at this juncture, Henry Maverick came up, 
 and, as Hardworth was about to apply the stick to 
 the prostrate tutor, exclaimed, " Coward ! turn !" 
 
 An ordinary observer would have said that the 
 boys were unequally matched in a struggle of 
 mere brute power and force. Hardworth was the 
 taller by nearly a head, and it was evident that in 
 a close tussle he would have the advantage. Har 
 ry was rather slim, in consequence of his recent 
 illness, and he had not completely recovered his 
 strength. He had perfect confidence, however, in 
 his superiority ; for he was extremely agile, and 
 had learned from his fencing-master a variety of 
 arts, by which skill is made to supply the place 
 of brute force. 
 
 On seeing Hardworth approach with a stick, 
 his first object was to disarm him, and this he ea 
 sily effected by a sleight of hand so sudden, that 
 Hardworth did not know he had been deprived 
 of his weapon until he saw it flying into the arms 
 of a neighboring tree. He now attempted to close 
 with his antagonist, and, by lifting him in his arms, 
 to throw him with violence to the ground. But 
 Harry evaded his embrace, and struck him a blow 
 which sent him backward some paces. Infuriated 
 at being baffled by one so much his inferior in size, 
 Hardworth pushed forward like a mad bull, and in
 
 WHICH MAKKS THE MAN ? 29 
 
 spite of some well-directed blows, attempted to 
 clutch his opponent by the collar. Harry inten 
 tionally allowed him to effect this, but, in a mo 
 ment, struck the fleshy part of his arm imme 
 diately under the shoulder in such a manner as 
 nearly to dislocate the limb from its socket, com 
 pelling him to abandon his hold, and to scream 
 with pain. Then quietly knocking him down into 
 a furrow of soft earth, where he might lie at his 
 ease, Harry flew to his friend Wainbridge, who 
 had begun to recover from the effects of his fall. 
 Bringing some water in a leaf from a spring, he 
 rubbed his head, and soon had the satisfaction of 
 seeing him fully revived. 
 
 " Thank you, Harry ; I am quite recovered," 
 said Mr. Wainbridge, rising and taking his young 
 friend's arm. 
 
 " Then permit me, sir, just to inflict a little 
 more chastisement upon that brutal fellow, Hard- 
 worth. See, he is limping away ; and now he 
 turns, and shakes his fist. Let me give him one 
 more lesson." 
 
 " No, Harry. His own reflections will be pun 
 ishment enough. I am truly sorry that you have 
 been involved, on my account, in a contest of 
 brute force. Never, except for the immediate 
 protection of yourself or another, would I have 
 you lift your arm against a fellow-creature. I do 
 not well see how you could have avoided it in this 
 case. But any further chastisement from you 
 would be at the instigation of revenge. Let us 
 guard against that hateful passion. How misera 
 ble it has made, and will continue to make poor 
 Hardworth !" 
 
 3*
 
 30 WEALTH AND WORTH ; OR, 
 
 "And do you forgive him for his outrageous 
 attack ?" 
 
 " Most readily. I know too well the force of 
 unbridled passion. I am myself too apt to give 
 way to it, but never without an after-feeling of 
 degradation." 
 
 " But would you not have me resent an insult as 
 well as an injury ?" 
 
 " I would have you resent neither, except so far 
 as the instinct of self-preservation would lead you. 
 If you go beyond that, impelled by the unworthy 
 passion of hatred or of revenge, you do wrong. It 
 would be difficult to insult a man of a perfectly 
 pure character. The attempt would be apt to re 
 coil of itself upon the aggressor. I suspect you 
 think I am too pacific, if not too timid, in my 
 notions." 
 
 " Timid ! Oh, no, sir, no ! You must not sup 
 pose I have not heard how you risked your life 
 the other day in saving the blind idiot girl, Edith, 
 from the attack of a mad dog. There was no 
 timidity shown there." 
 
 " Well, supposing, for the sake of the argument, 
 that I did, with the view of rescuing a fellow- 
 creature, expose myself to the imminent danger 
 of contracting that most fatal and revolting of all 
 maladies, hydrophobia ; the next day, I meet a 
 man in Wall-street, who calls me a coward. Am 
 I insulted, either in my own estimation or that of 
 those who know me, by an accusation which my 
 acts prove to be false ?" 
 
 " Not at all. You can afford to pass it by ; but 
 a young man, whose character for decision and 
 courage is not established who hardly knows him 
 self whether he would act like a brave man or a
 
 \VHICH MAKES THE MAN ? 31 
 
 coward in an emergency such a one, I think, 
 should knock down his accuser/' 
 
 " Ah, Harry, if you question your own heart, 
 you will find that there is often more courage in 
 endurance than in action. But, even in action, 
 learn to distinguish true courage from mere con 
 stitutional obtuseness : 
 
 ' The brave man is not he "who feels no fear, 
 For that were stupid and irrational ; 
 But he, whose noble soul its fear subdues, 
 And bravely dares the danger nature shrinks from.' 
 
 " Let us hope, my dear Harry, that the time is 
 coming when mind will assert its true empire ; 
 when the law of physical force shall no longer 
 influence nations or individuals ; and when that ad 
 miration with which military exploits and military 
 glory are even in this age regarded, will be re 
 called as one of the frivolities of the infancy of 
 mankind. What a difference between the age of 
 chivalry and our own ! May not our posterity, 
 some three hundred years hence, look back with 
 a smile upon much that we regard with gravity 
 and reverence ?" 
 
 The sun was sinking brilliantly, when Harry 
 bade his instructor good evening, and took his way 
 up one of the long gravelled walks that led to his 
 home. The mansion, painted of a pure white, 
 was delicately tinted in front with the crimson 
 light from the west. The trees bowed their tops 
 lightly to the soft airs of twilight. Up and down 
 the river, a number of small vessels, with their 
 sails all spread, were lazily gliding. Emmeline 
 came forth to meet her brother, with laughter and 
 singing ; and Harry, as he twined his fingers
 
 32 
 
 WEALTH AND WORTH ; OR, 
 
 through her thick brown curls, and gazed with her 
 upon the calm, harmonious landscape, forgot that 
 the face of nature and the heart of man had ever 
 been disfigured by storms, or that the earth had 
 ever been stained by war and carnage. 
 
 'l I,
 
 WHICH MAKES THE MAN ? 33 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 " Youth at the prow, and pleasure at the helm !" GHAT. 
 
 THE time was now rapidly approaching, when 
 Henry Maverick was to leave his home for the 
 university. In accordance with Mr. Wainbridge's 
 advice, he concluded to go to Cambridge ; and 
 he pursued the studies requisite for his admission, 
 with industry and zeal. At length the period for 
 examination arrived. In company with some fifty 
 young men of various ages, he entered the recita 
 tion-rooms of Harvard was examined in mathe 
 matics and the classics, and admitted uncondition 
 ally a member of the freshman class. 
 
 It is no unimportant epoch in a boy's life, when 
 he enters college, and assumes, for the first time, 
 the toga virilis the black dress-coat of the student. 
 Harry was not yet quite a philosopher ; and, dur 
 ing the brief vacation between the period of his 
 admission to the university, and the commence 
 ment of his studies, he returned to New York, put 
 up at a fashionable hotel, and ordered two or three 
 fashionable suits of clothes. Having attired him 
 self in one, which he conceived to be the " tightest 
 fit," and examined it an hour or two in the glass, 
 he issued forth into Broadway, and made one of 
 the elegant loungers in that crowded thoroughfare. 
 Ah ! Harry, Harry ! I am afraid you will become 
 a little dandy.
 
 WEALTH AND WORTH; OR, 
 
 The next day he drove up to Eagleswood with 
 his father. As he jumped out of the carriage, 
 Mrs. Maverick received him with tears of happi 
 ness ; Emmeline pressed forward to obtain a kiss ; 
 old Mingo stood by, rolling up the whites of his 
 eyes, and showing his teeth in a grin ; and Hotspur 
 barked and scampered round as if he wished to 
 have it appear that he was more rejoiced than any 
 of them to sed his young master. They all wel 
 comed him, and were welcomed in return. 
 
 " Why, Emmeline, you have actually grown in 
 the three weeks I have been away," said Harry, 
 parting the hair from her forehead with both his 
 hands, and impressing a kiss upon its alabaster 
 surface. 
 
 " Oh, Massa Harry, I tell you what," said old 
 Mingo, who seemed supremely happy ; " Missy 
 Emmeline grows jist like the corn in ole Vagin- 
 ny so fast, you can hear it. Whorrah ! Yah, 
 yah, yah !" 
 
 " Stop that, Mingo, if you don't want this whip 
 over your shoulders." 
 
 " Yah, yah, yah ! 'Cause Massa Harry's got 
 on his long-tail blue, he feel big as a snake swal 
 lowing a coon. Yah, yah !" 
 
 Harry made a feint of hitting the privileged old 
 negro, whereupon Mingo dodged, and bursting into 
 renewed peals of laughter, strolled away to the 
 stable to attend to the horses, shaking his head, and 
 hitching up his shoulders, with the persuasion that 
 he had perpetrated the best possible joke. 
 
 As for Emmeline, it seemed as if her delight 
 were never to cease. She walked around her 
 brother with mock gravity, examining his college 
 dress, and clapping her hands at his manly ap~
 
 WHICH MAKES THE MAN ? 35 
 
 pearance ; and then, leading him into the parlor, 
 she danced about him, singing her favorite old 
 song 
 
 " We will flit as bright as spring ; 
 We will naught but pleasure bring ; 
 We will teach the world to be 
 Happy, blithe, and gay as we." 
 
 The few weeks which Harry passed at Eagles- 
 wood, preparatory to removing to Cambridge, were 
 among the happiest he had yet known. His birth 
 day was near at hand, and Mrs. Maverick was 
 making arrangements to celebrate it by a grand 
 fete. A gay party of ladies and gentlemen from 
 the city, with many young people, were invited. 
 A tent, adorned with flags and streamers, was 
 erected upon a smooth lawn, to which a noble 
 grove of chestnuts formed a back-ground. A band 
 of musicians were engaged. Mr. Edge furnished 
 a supply of fire-works ; while viands of the most 
 delicate kind were procured from Delmonico's. 
 
 At length the important day arrived. Long 
 before sunrise, Emmeline had risen, put on her 
 morning dress, and run out upon the piazza, to dis 
 cover whether there were signs of fair weather. 
 With what anxiety did she watch the light purple 
 clouds, as they flitted across the gray sky of morn 
 ing ! Did those walls of vapor along the eastern 
 sky betoken rain ? No. They begin to be tinged 
 with crimson. The sun, the glorious sun is be 
 hind them! And now they break away, and dis 
 perse before his golden arrows. It will be a beau 
 tiful day! Huzza! Run, Emmeline, and knock 
 at Harry's door ! Louder ! How soundly he 
 sleeps ! Bang, bang, bang ! There ! He has
 
 36 WEALTH AND WORTH J OR, 
 
 heard you at last ; and rising, throws open his 
 window. 
 
 Old Mingo has risen also. What a great man 
 he believes himself to be to-day ! I will tell you 
 a little story about Mingo. During the last war 
 between the United States and Great Britain, when 
 he lived with Mr. Maverick in Virginia, he was in 
 constant alarm lest the enemy should invade that 
 part of the country. He came to his master one 
 day, with an air of mysterious importance, and 
 proposed, that a company of " the colored gem'- 
 men" of the plantation should be raised, and 
 placed under his command, to be drilled for service. 
 Mr. Maverick, though disposed to laugh heartily 
 at the idea, preserved his gravity, and pretended 
 to be much pleased with the valorous proposition. 
 He remembered that there was in the garret a suit 
 of uniform, with a cocked hat, and a big rusty 
 sword and trappings, which had belonged to a 
 British officer during the revolution. These he 
 ordered to be brought down, and, drawing the 
 sword, which almost stuck to the scabbard with 
 rust, he directed Mingo to kneel in the presence 
 of several of his companions ; then hitting him 
 a pretty smart blow upon the back with the flat of 
 the blade, Mr. Maverick ordered him to rise up 
 " General Mingo." 
 
 Never did belted knight rise with more exulta 
 tion and pride from his monarch's ennobling touch, 
 than Mingo did from his master's somewhat vigor 
 ous application of the sword. He looked round 
 with a fierce air upon the admiring slaves who 
 accompanied him, and then, receiving the sword, 
 the cocked hat, and uniform from his master, 
 placed his hand gallantly upon his heart, and
 
 WHICH MAKES THE MAN? 37 
 
 bowed and withdrew with his awe-stricken train. 
 From that day forward, General Mingo believed 
 himself to be a very great man ; and, in this world, 
 you will find that often the first step to being 
 thought great by others, is to persuade ourselves 
 of the fact. While the war lasted, he flourished 
 among the blacks of the plantation as the most 
 tremendous warrior of the day ; and always after 
 ward, on the fourth of July and other anniversary 
 occasions, the " General" would put on his regi 
 mental dress, and strut about in places where he 
 was most likely to attract attention. There was 
 one little inconsistency, which a critical eye might 
 have noticed. Although professing to be a great 
 patriot, Mingo wore the uniform of the enemy. 
 But of this circumstance he had never been made 
 aware. 
 
 Upon the joyful occasion, which was now to be 
 signalized at Eagleswood, Mingo I beg pardon 
 General Mingo, had rubbed up his old sword, and 
 brushed his faded uniform and his cocked hat, 
 with unusual care. With the assistance of two 
 or three of his colored co-patriots, he then arrayed 
 himself in his martial dress, put his belt, with the 
 sword attached, round his waist, and, thus ac 
 coutred, walked forth to play his part in the pro 
 ceedings of the day, followed by Hotspur, barking 
 louder than ever, and some half dozen vagrant 
 boys, who made themselves hoarse with huzza 
 ing. Occasionally, the sword would swing be 
 tween the general's legs, nearly upsetting him, 
 and materially disturbing his military dignity ; and, 
 now and then, it would strike his shins in a man 
 ner to make him grimace with pain ; but these 
 4
 
 38 WEALTH AND WORTH ; OR, 
 
 were trifling inconveniences, more than repaid by 
 the glory which he reaped. 
 
 Early in the forenoon, one of the numerous 
 steamboats, that ply between the adjacent towns 
 and the island of Manhattan, stopped at the pier 
 at Eagleswood and landed the expected company, 
 including the band of musicians. General Mingo 
 received them in ceremonious state, at the land 
 ing-place, and the band followed him up to the 
 lawp before the house, playing " Hail to the chief, 
 who in triumph advances." Mr. and Mrs. Maver 
 ick and their children stood upon the marble es 
 planade that surrounded the house, and extended 
 to their visiters a cordial welcome. 
 
 How prettily Emmeline looked in her neat fan 
 cy dress of white trimmed with blue, and her laced 
 boddice, after the style of the Swiss peasants! 
 The hue of health was upon her cheek. Her eyes 
 sparkled with animation and pleasure ; and, as 
 she extended her hands or courtesied to the guests 
 as they arrived, her ingenuous smile and happy 
 looks told, better than words, that her welcome 
 was sincere. 
 
 The company was selected principally from the 
 fashionable city acquaintances of Mrs. Maverick. 
 There were the Van Rapps, with their gay daugh 
 ter and foppish son ; Mr. Splash, a young man 
 whose ambition lay in having the fastest trotting- 
 horse that was to be seen on the third avenue ; 
 Mrs. Sumpter, a lady of wealth, with her pretty 
 daughter, Marian ; Mr. Buzz, with a live English 
 baronet, Sir William Ormsby, of whom my read 
 ers have already heard something ; Augustus Er 
 mine, a lad of large expectations ; Mr. Brown, a 
 retired lawyer of eccentric manners ; and Mrs.
 
 WHICH MAKES THE MAN ? 39 
 
 Danton, with her two daughters, Lucy and Har 
 riet. In addition to all these, there were Mr. 
 Wainbridge, and a number of Harry's old school 
 mates. Ralph Armstrong had been asked to be 
 present, but fearing that he should not feel at home 
 among the rich and fashionable, he had declined 
 the invitation, promising, however, that he would 
 come round in the evening to witness the fire 
 works. Mr. Brudenel, with his pale, dark-haired 
 daughter, had joined the party. On seeing Mary, 
 Henry Maverick could not but feel a momentary 
 pang as he thought, " How Charley would have en 
 joyed this ;" and as he took her hand and wel 
 comed her to Eagleswood, the eyes of each drop 
 ped a transitory tear, as if the thought had simul 
 taneously occurred to their minds. 
 
 The gay, brilliant music of the band, which was 
 playing a variety of favorite marches and quad 
 rilles in the centre of the garden, between two 
 fountains that sent their sparkling waters high into 
 the air in fantastic columns the laughing and 
 chatting of the various guests, as they promenaded 
 to the tunes the bright, sunny prospect, and the 
 mellow warmth of the atmosphere, formed a com 
 bination of influences, by no means favorable to 
 the indulgence of melancholy ; and Harry soon 
 launched into the amusements of the day with his 
 constitutional vivacity. Every one seemed to have 
 a pleasant compliment or a good wish for his ear ; 
 nay, I fear that there was some flattery, to which 
 my hero was not wholly insensible, mingled with 
 the praise. For instance, why did Mrs. Sumpter, 
 as she introduced Miss Marian, intimate that she 
 should be perfectly happy if she had such a son ? 
 
 '* Would not a son-in-law answer your pur-
 
 40 WEALTH AND WORTH , OR, 
 
 pose ?" inquired Harry, gallantly offering his arm 
 to the young lady. 
 
 Marian blushed ; and Mrs. Sumpter, apparently 
 delighted at the idea, struck him under the chin 
 with her fan, calling him a " forward, naughty 
 boy." 
 
 Harry showed the young lady the finest parts 
 of the garden, gathered her a bouquet, and then 
 committed her to the care of Mr. Wainbridge, 
 while he went to attend to other guests. 
 
 As he was proceeding toward Mrs. Danton, he 
 was stopped by Master Ermine, who mysteriously 
 inquired " where the punch was ?" Harry profess 
 ed his ignorance, whereupon Master Ermine pro 
 posed that they should " cut the old people and 
 the girls, and go to the stable and smoke cigars." 
 This proposal was declined ; and the hopeful 
 young roue then intimated that it would give him 
 great satisfaction, and afford great sport, " to sell 
 that priggish old fellow, Brown." 
 
 " To this Harry replied, that if by " selling," was 
 meant playing off any trick upon his venerable 
 guest, he could not think, for a moment, of suffer 
 ing any such breach of hospitality to be commit 
 ted. 
 
 " What a spiritless fellow !" muttered Master 
 Ermine, walking away to where General Mingo 
 was entertaining a select audience by a recital of 
 his exploits during the last war. 
 
 As Harry moved off in a different direction, lie 
 encountered Mr. Brown, who rather gruffly re 
 marked : " Well, Master Harry, all this is very 
 nice." 
 
 " I hope it pleases you, sir," replied Harry. 
 
 " Humph ! I suppose all these people are trying 

 
 WHICH MAKES THE MAN ? 41 
 
 to persuade you that you are a mighty clever 
 young fellow." 
 
 " Why, indeed, sir, it is natural that they should 
 try to say pleasant things to me on my birthday." 
 
 " All humbug, Harry. It isn't you, but Eagles- 
 wood, and this nice estate, that they have in their 
 eye. If you were a black dwarf, instead of a tol 
 erably decent looking young fellow, it would be 
 just the same. Bah !" 
 
 " Ah, sir, you are too cynical. But see ! A lady 
 is beckoning to me ; and I need not apologize for 
 leaving you for a while." 
 
 " Poor young man, to be born to such a fortune !" 
 muttered Mr. Brown, as Harry passed on. " He 
 might have a chance of developing himself, were 
 he only obliged to carve his own way in the 
 world." 
 
 Among the guests were Sir William Ormsby, 
 and his poor brother-in-law, Wainbridge. The 
 baronet had started, and bit his lips, on recognising 
 the latter, who, though burning with anxiety to 
 hear from his wife, did not seek to accost her 
 brother, on observing his repulsive glance and 
 haughty demeanor. Mr. Maverick, who was not 
 aware of the relationship, noticed Sir William's 
 agitation, and inquired if he knew Wainbridge. 
 The baronet coolly raised his eye-glass, and de 
 clared that he neither knew him nor wished to 
 know him. 
 
 There was no other occurrence to mar the har 
 mony of any of the visitors . A sumptuous colla 
 tion was spread in the tent, to which the company 
 sat down, while the band played without. Harry's 
 health was drunk in lemonade, by the young 
 people, and in champagne by the old. Master 
 4*
 
 42 WEALTH AND WORTH ; OR, 
 
 Ermine chose to consider himself among the lat 
 ter ; and the consequence was, that, before dinner 
 was over, Harry had to consign him to the care 
 of General Mingo, who conducted him safely to a 
 bedroom, where he slept off the effects of his in 
 discreet indulgence. 
 
 On quitting the table, the company separated 
 into groups to seek amusements to their taste. 
 Some went to the nine-pin alley to bowl, and 
 some to the archery-ground to shoot at a target. 
 Mr. Splash strolled toward the stable, to see the 
 horses and smoke a cigar, accompanied by the 
 baronet and Master Van Rapp. Mr. Brown went 
 to turn over the books in the library ; and Mary 
 Brudenel and Emmeline amused themselves by 
 strolling from group to group to see the employ 
 ments of all. 
 
 Mr. Wainbridge put Harry's arm within his 
 own, and proposed a walk. Both moved on in 
 silence for a few minutes. Mr. Wainbridge was 
 the first to speak : 
 
 " Well, Harry, you are to leave us in the morn 
 ing for Cambridge ?" 
 
 " Yes, sir ; and I need not say how much I 
 shall regret the loss of your counsel and your 
 company." 
 
 " I probably have the more reason to regret our 
 separation. I would say much to you, Harry, for 
 your guidance ; but I fear you are one of those 
 who are destined to derive all their important les 
 sons in human life from experience." 
 
 " Why so, sir ?" 
 
 " Because you are apt to act rather from im 
 pulse than from principle ; and impulses vary, but 
 principles are unchangeable. I will tell you the
 
 WHICH MAKES THE MAN ? 43 
 
 most difficult lesson you have to acquire it is to 
 learn to say no." 
 
 " A lesson very quickly learned, I should think, 
 sir." 
 
 " And yet one in which I fear you will too often 
 fail. You are of too malleable a temper, Harry, 
 and too easily take impressions from those around 
 you. If you go astray, it will be in following the 
 example of others rather than your own tastes." 
 
 " I will try to profit, sir, by your exposure of my 
 failing." 
 
 " Never, my dear Harry, indulge in profligate 
 pleasures upon the miserable plea of studying life, 
 and seeing the world. Such excuses will suggest 
 themselves as a palliation for the vilest excesses ; 
 but, O ! remember what the wise man says : ' The 
 knowledge of wickedness is not wisdom, neither at 
 any time the counsel of sinners prudence? The 
 time may come when you will wish to unlearn 
 such knowledge when you would give all your 
 worldly possessions to attain the state of innocent 
 ignorance in which you once lived." 
 
 " I am not ambitious, sir, to shine in those walks 
 in which Splash and Ermine are precociously dis 
 tinguished." 
 
 " Study not only the classics and the sciences, 
 but the moral and physical laws of your nature. 
 I fear that too little attention is paid to these in 
 our systems of education. But bear in mind that 
 you are under a responsibility to your Maker, both 
 for the care of your soul and your body. Inatten 
 tion to health a heedless violation of the physical 
 laws of our nature, is an offence, of which no con 
 scientious man should be guilty. It is followed
 
 44 WEALTH AND WORTH ; OR, 
 
 by pain, as vice is by misery, and both are culpa 
 ble in their several degrees." 
 
 " I think that I understand you, sir. But how 
 many worthy, pious people would stare at your 
 doctrine !" 
 
 " They must do so then from want of reflection. 
 God would never have given us the faculties for 
 discovering the laws of our nature, if he did 
 not mean that those laws should be religiously 
 
 obeyed." 
 ' " I admit 
 
 admit the principle." 
 
 " Let me give you one more hint. Methodize 
 the disposition of your time. It is astonishing 
 how much one may accomplish by method. Have 
 your stated hours for study, for reading, for exer 
 cise, and for social intercourse ; and suffer no un 
 important inducement to cause you to break in 
 upon your system." 
 
 " I am aware of the advantages of such a 
 course." 
 
 " Well, I have volumes to say to you ; but let 
 me condense them all in this : accustom yourself 
 to the ever-constant conviction, that you are an 
 immortal being, placed for wise, though unseen 
 purposes, in a state of discipline and probation. 
 Never forget, for an instant, that not only your ac 
 tions in this world, but your most secret thoughts 
 and impulses, are ever open to the all-comprehend 
 ing eye- of God. Let these great truths become 
 intertwined with every moment's consciousness. 
 Lift up your soul in prayer to the throne of grace 
 for strength and purification ; and then, my dear 
 Harry, you will prepare yourself to escape a thou 
 sand snares, that waylay the path of the young and 
 unthinking."
 
 WHICH MAKES THE MAN ? 45 
 
 " I fear that I have not thought of these things 
 enough," said Harry, contemplatively. 
 
 " Do not adopt the false notion that a settled and 
 active religious faith is inconsistent with cheer 
 fulness, and the blameless pleasures of life. On 
 the contrary, true religion not only alleviates our 
 sorrows, but heightens our joys." 
 
 " I hope I may attain it." 
 
 " But I did not mean to choose this occasion, 
 Harry, for lecturing you. Come ; you must attend, 
 to your guests. It will soon be dark enough for 
 the fireworks." 
 
 They moved toward the house. A number of 
 ladies had assembled in the drawing-room to hear 
 Emmeline sing. What a clear, happy, melodious 
 voice was hers ! It came from a pure and grate 
 ful heart ; and, like the gushing notes of the wild 
 bird, made the hearer instinctively look up to hea 
 ven. After she had concluded one song, there 
 was a general demand for another. " Well," said 
 the maiden, "I will sing you a little song, that 
 Harry wrote for me last summer. He called it 
 ' The Gay Deceiver.' " She sang ; and so much 
 pleased was I with the graceful playfulness which 
 she imparted to the piece, that I obtained a copy. 
 Here it is : 
 
 THE GAT DECEIVER. 
 I. 
 
 Summer wind ! Summer wind ! 
 
 Where hast thou been ? 
 Chasing the gossamer 
 
 Over the green ? 
 Rifling the cowslip's wealth 
 
 Down in the dale ? 
 Light-pinioned pilferer ! 
 
 Tell me thy tale.
 
 46 WEALTH AND WORTH ; OR, 
 
 " I am a rover gay, 
 
 Dashing and free ! 
 Now on the land astray, 
 
 Now on the sea. 
 I quaff the honey breath 
 
 Of the young rose ; 
 I kiss the violet, 
 
 Where the brook flows." 
 
 Out on thee, libertine ! 
 
 Fickle ! untrue ! 
 Leaving the violet, 
 
 Whom wilt thou woo ? 
 Canst thou delighted be 
 
 With hearts undone ? 
 Canst thou be faithful, sir, 
 
 Never to one ? 
 
 " Ah ! hear me, maiden dear, 
 
 Turn not away ! 
 I have a truant been 
 
 Until to-day. 
 But now I find a home, 
 
 Where I will rest ; 
 Captive, I sink at length, 
 
 Here on thy breast." 
 
 The fireworks were let off without any accident 
 to mar the exhibition. The rockets rose and fell 
 in fountains of sparks down the sky. The stars, 
 and wheels, and Roman candles glittered and van 
 ished like all human delights. At nine o'clock 
 the steamboat touched again at the wharf; the 
 band struck up " Auld Lang Syne ;" and those of 
 the guests, who did not choose to remain all night 
 at Eagleswood, went on board. 
 
 It had been a happy occasion for both Har-
 
 WHICH MAKES THE MAN ? 
 
 47 
 
 ry and Emmeline. Never, thought they, were 
 there kinder friends than those who had that day 
 been their guests. Harry mentally excepted Mr. 
 Brown from the list. " An envious old fellow that !" 
 thought he ; " for while I was trying to be civil to 
 him, he told me that I was in the high road to 
 ruin ; and said, it was a great pity that I wasn't 
 obliged to live upon sixpence a day and earn it." 
 Harry fell asleep, and dreamed of seeing Mr. 
 Brown in a big wig, passing sentence upon him 
 for some inexplicable crime. 
 
 The next day, Harry took leave of his mother 
 and sister, and accompanied his father to the city, 
 where he embarked for Providence. Poor Em 
 meline ! how very lonely she felt ! She went to 
 the garden then to the library then to the riv 
 er's side, accompanied by Hotspur but all would 
 not do. And finally, she went to her chamber, 
 and had a good, hearty spell of crying. Silly lit 
 tle Emmeline !
 
 48 WEALTH AND WORTH J OR, 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 " Dear above every boasted attainment acquired to compel applause 
 from the world, are those dispositions, which cheer the hour when no 
 stranger is present to admire, and shed that sweet influence that link* 
 the heart to home." 
 
 HELEN MARIA WILLIAMS. 
 
 THE little village of Capeville in Massachusetts 
 is well known to many, who, during the hot sum 
 mer months, visit the celebrated promontory of 
 Nahant, where a fresh breeze from the ocean may 
 almost at all times be enjoyed. It is to a small 
 cottage in Capeville, that I have now to take my 
 readers. 
 
 The cottage stands in a retired lane that branch 
 es from the main road, and is bordered by venera 
 ble elms, which indicate that the avenue once 
 led to a mansion of some importance. The build 
 ing is one story high, plainly constructed, with a 
 simple portico in front, with trellis-work for the 
 honeysuckle to clamber up. A small yard enclos 
 ed by a fence intercepts the dust of the road, al 
 though, as the latter is not a thoroughfare, there 
 is little occasion for such protection. A hill of 
 gentle ascent rises just behind the house, as if to 
 shield it from the bleak airs of the sea. If you 
 climb this hill, and pass through a grove of stunt 
 ed pine-trees over a sandy and barren soil, you 
 come suddenly upon the brow of another acclivity, 
 from which you behold the broad Atlantic break 
 ing, flashing, and foaming upon a smooth, level 
 beach not more than a mile distant. 

 
 WHICH MAKES THE MAN? 49 
 
 This seaside retreat had been chosen and em 
 bellished by a young and enterprising mariner 
 named Clare, who sailed from the neighboring 
 ports of Salem and Boston. Having been suc 
 cessful in his adventurous career, he had married 
 the girl of his heart, and built the cottage which 
 we have pointed out ; and there he passed nearly 
 all the time that was allotted to him on shore. 
 Years flew by, and new ties were created to bind 
 him to his home. Children were born to him ; 
 first a boy, to whom he gave his own name of Ed 
 win ; then a girl, who was called after her mother, 
 Ellen ; and lastly, another boy, Theodore. 
 
 With what delight would Captain Clare look 
 forward to rejoining these loved ones at Cape- 
 ville, as, during the long night-watches at sea, he 
 paced his silent deck ! On his return from every 
 voyage, the children would climb his knees, and 
 anxiously ask " if this was not to be the last ? if 
 he would not stay at home with them now all the 
 time ?" 
 
 Vicissitudes, however, would occur, deterring 
 him from abandoning his career, and persuading 
 him to try " one voyage more," to retrieve the loss 
 es of the last. He was on his way from Canton 
 with a rich cargo, the safe delivery of which would 
 have secured him an independent fortune, when 
 his vessel was wrecked, during a severe gale, up 
 on the Jersey coast, and all hands on board per 
 ished. The news of the disaster was received 
 at Capeville in the depth of one of the most in 
 clement winters ever experienced upon our coast. 
 Poor Mrs. Clare was almost prostrated by the un 
 expected blow ; and the children, who had, for the 
 last year, been daily prattling about " Pa's return," 
 5
 
 50 WEALTH AND WORTH ; OR, 
 
 and preparing a series of pfeasant surprises for his 
 amusement, experienced, for the first time, the bit 
 terness of bereavement. 
 
 But Mrs. Clare was not a person to repine un 
 reasonably at the ordinations of the divine will. 
 She was a Christian ; not merely a speculative, but 
 a practical one. Her faith was an active princi 
 ple, coloring every thought, and rectifying every 
 impulse. She devoted herself, with renewed assi 
 duity, to the task of rearing her children ; and 
 grateful to her in after years were the fruits of her 
 intelligent labors. 
 
 The personal property left by her husband was 
 invested ; and an humble annuity was derived from 
 it, sufficient to maintain her family in comfort, with 
 out the necessity of extraordinary efforts. Edwin 
 had been sent to an excellent school ; and, at the 
 time of our visit to the cottage, he was consulting 
 with his mother and Ellen upon the adequacy of 
 their means to enable him to go to college. 
 
 " I am sure, mother," said Ellen, " that we can 
 get along very well through the year with that sum, 
 and not touch our principal." 
 
 " But I had intended, my dear, that you should 
 receive instruction in music from Mrs. Leroy dur-' 
 ing the winter." -"**fe 
 
 " Oh, I can content myself with studying over 
 my old pieces. Besides " 
 
 " No, Elien," interrupted Edwin, " I will not con 
 sent to receive any advantages of education at 
 your expense." 
 
 " But I am vain enough to think that it will not 
 be the worse for me to wait a year or two, Master 
 Edwin. I can study out many things by myself, 
 now that I am versed in the rudiments. Come,
 
 WHICH MAKES THE MAN ? 51 
 
 mother, I shall insist upon sending my piano to the 
 auction store, rather than that Edwin shall not go 
 to college." 
 
 " And you are willing to forego the purchase of 
 the new gown and cloak, and the quarter's school 
 ing at Mr. Bailey's ?" 
 
 " Nay, do not mention those things, mother : I 
 can do well without them; but Edwin has gone so 
 far, that it is a pity he should not go farther." 
 
 " That is very bad logic, sister mine. Anxious 
 as I may be to obtain the advantages of a collegi 
 ate course of instruction, I should doubtless be able 
 to push my way through the world quite as well 
 probably better without it. There' is a very good 
 chance for me now to obtain a place in Stanwood 
 &. Staple's store in Boston. There are things to 
 be learned in mercantile life, and opportunities for 
 learning them, which a college cannot present." 
 
 " But, Edwin arid mother, do you not remember 
 how often he used to talk, as he held us children 
 on his knees, of the figure which he expected Ed 
 win would make one day at Cambridge 1" And 
 as Ellen put this inquiry in a faltering tone, she 
 glanced at a fine portrait of her father, which hung 
 over the mantel-piece, and which had been painted 
 some ten years before by an eminent artist in Am 
 sterdam. 
 
 Mrs. Clare could not readily reply to this ap 
 peal ; but a glistening moisture in her eyes told 
 that it had not been without avail. " My dear 
 Ellen," she at last said, " I was prepared for this 
 display of generosity on your part ; and I have 
 never otherwise intended than to strain every nerve 
 for the accomplishment of your father's favorite 
 anticipation in regard to Edwin. We will hus-
 
 52 WEALTH AND WORTH ; OR, 
 
 band our scanty means with our best ability, to 
 secure the success of our experiment ; and, with 
 trust in Heaven, we will undertake it. There, 
 Edwin ! The court has decided. The verdict is 
 against you. It is, that you be sent from this 
 place to college." 
 
 Edwin seemed to find something very attractive 
 all at once in the road ; for he looked steadfastly 
 out of the window in a manner to keep his face 
 concealed. At length he turned round, with a 
 bold, frank smile upon his open countenance, and 
 said, " Why should I try to conceal these truant 
 tears ? I am not ashamed of them, for they spring 
 from gratitude and joy. Dear mother ! dear sis 
 ter ! I will not contend against your generosity, 
 for I know you will make me yield to it in the 
 end. But, mark this ; promise me that you will 
 never, for the mere purpose of discharging my 
 college debts, deprive yourselves in any degree 
 of any one of those comforts that are essential to 
 health. I will not consent to go, till I am fully 
 satisfied upon this point." 
 
 After some affectionate disputes, Mrs. Clare 
 succeeded in convincing Edwin o: the feasibility 
 of supporting him at Cambridge without any dimi 
 nution of their household comforts. The next 
 day Edwin started off in the stage-coach, to un 
 dergo the customary examination for admission 
 to college ; and, as may be inferred from his char 
 acter, he was successful. 
 
 Manifold were the preparations now at the cot 
 tage for fitting him out for his winter's sojourn at 
 the university. The making up of the dress-coat 
 could be intrusted only to Mr. Knapp, the village 
 tailor ; but the pantaloons, the vests, the cotton and 

 
 WHICH MAKES THE MAN ? 53 
 
 linen under-clothes were all in Ellen's line, and 
 her little hand plied the needle with an alacrity 
 that few veterans in the seamstress's art could have 
 displayed. Soon was everything ready for Ed 
 win's departure. With what care and nicety were 
 all his clothes packed by Ellen ! And how much 
 more did the trunk hold than he expected, owing 
 to her economical use of the room ! Never did 
 stevedore measure with nicer care the hold of a 
 vessel, to learn how large a cargo it would con 
 tain, than she did the capacity of that trunk. 
 
 Many were the promises that Edwin had to give 
 to write, and to come home at least twice a month, 
 before he was suffered to enter the stage-coach. 
 Mrs. Clare, Ellen, and Theodore, all stood at the 
 door ; and as the good-natured driver "touched up 
 his leader," they waved a good-by with their hands, 
 and stood gazing after the vehicle, till, bouncing 
 up and down, it was whirled out of sight. Two 
 hours afterward, Edwin had alighted at his apart 
 ments in one of the oldest of the college build 
 ings unpacked his trunk arranged his books up 
 on his table and sat down to study. 
 
 If we had looked in once more upon Ellen, dur 
 ing the same day, we should have found her vary 
 ing her labors by instructing her younger brother 
 in French. Theodore was a quick, apt boy; but 
 he had a singular propensity for moulding bits of 
 bread or wax into figures of men or horses. These 
 he executed with so much fidelity and skill, as to 
 engage Ellen's attention, who exclaimed one day, 
 on seeing him mould a miniature Napoleon out of 
 the wax from her work-box : " Why, Theodore, 
 I really believe you were born for a sculptor." 
 Thenceforth, she endeavored to train his taste by 
 
 *
 
 54 WEALTH AND WORTH ; OR, 
 
 judicious criticisms, and to incite him to an appro 
 priate course of reading and study. She also sug 
 gested that he should attempt modelling in clay, 
 and he produced some very clever specimens of 
 his talent in that art. 
 
 Indeed, what with attending to Edwin's clothes, 
 and to Theodore's instruction ; conducting the 
 household arrangements, and interesting herself in 
 those village charities, where her counsel and as 
 sistance could be of avail ; practising with the 
 church choir, and aiding in the superintendence 
 of a Sunday-school, you would suppose that Ellen 
 had precious little time to devote to those accom 
 plishments, in which young ladies are generally 
 anxious to excel. Do not suppose, however, that 
 she neglected them utterly. There were other 
 things which claimed her attention first, as of par 
 amount importance. But still, notwithstanding her 
 numerous employments, she found time for the in 
 dulgence of a taste for elegant literature, for music, 
 and the fine arts. So true it is, that the more we 
 do, the more we can do ; and the more busy we 
 are, the more leisure we have. There is no class 
 of persons more pressed for time in accomplishing 
 comparatively trifling objects than your habitual 
 idlers. 
 
 " How can you find time for such things ?" ask 
 ed Miss Celestina Johnson of our friend Ellen, on 
 seeing her engaged in knotting a bead purse for a 
 fair, that the ladies were getting up for the benefit 
 of the village Lyceum. 
 
 " I will tell you," said Ellen. " You see how 
 that quilt is made up of rags, which many people 
 would have thrown away as utterly useless ? 
 Sewed together, they make quite an imposing ap-
 
 WHICH MAKES THE MAN ? 55 
 
 pearance. Just so 1 manage with my odds and 
 ends, and shreds and patches of time. How 
 many little intervals do we waste, which seem 
 nothing in themselves, but which, if patched to 
 gether, form an imposing aggregate !" 
 
 " What a very odd person !" thought Miss Ce- 
 lestina. 
 
 Ah, Ellen ! there is more wisdom than you ever 
 imagined in your remark. It contains the secret 
 of all great achievements. We that complain so 
 much of the shortness of life, scatter its golden mo 
 ments as the spendthrift does his copper coin. If 
 we will reckon up those " odds and ends of time," 
 which we are apt to regard as so unimportant and 
 unavailable, we shall find that they form a fright 
 ful proportion of our little span of existence. 
 
 Pliny says : If you compute the time spent in 
 sleep, you will find that a man actually lives only 
 half his space. The other half passes in a state 
 resembling death. You do not take into the ac 
 count the years of infancy, which are destitute of 
 reason ; nor the many diseases and the many cares 
 of old age, those penalties of longevity. The 
 senses grow dull, the limbs are racked, the sight, 
 the hearing, the power of walking, the teeth also, 
 die before us. And yet all this time is reckoned 
 in the period of a life ! 
 
 '' Was Ellen Clare pretty ?" asks a blue-eyed 
 maiden behind my chair, who, with my permission, 
 has been reading my manuscript. 
 
 "Yes, Mary dear; the good are always pretty. 
 Goodness of heart and purity of soul must stamp 
 their impress upon the outward expression, how 
 ever homely may be the features. But Ellen was 
 rich also, like you, in that inferior loveliness,
 
 56 WEALTH AND WORTH ; OR, 
 
 which the limner delights to imitate. Her figure 
 was naturally slender ; but habits of exercise in 
 the open air, and a rigid obedience to the laws of 
 health, had developed it to those proportions in 
 which beauty is circumscribed ; and there was 
 that ease and elasticity in her gait, of which grace, 
 the rustic charmer, is born. Her plentiful dark 
 hair was plainly parted in front in undulating lines, 
 and fastened behind with a comb. Her face 
 would remind you of the majestic simplicity of 
 those features which the Grecian sculptors have 
 traced, where all is in harmonious repose ; but 
 Ellen's dark eyes were the very throne of expres 
 sion. They mirrored every feeling that flitted 
 through her heart ; and she had no cause to blush 
 at the betrayal, for there was an earnestness, 
 a frankness in her temper, which did not covet 
 disguise. When she smiled, the least possible 
 portion of a sound, white set of teeth was display 
 ed ; and her little hands, notwithstanding the deal 
 of work they accomplished, were as fair and taper 
 as a queen's." 
 
 " Why, what a very perfect person you are 
 making her out !" 
 
 " Do you know how she unconsciously aided 
 nature in investing her person with these perish 
 able but not undesirable attributes ? I will tell 
 you. She rose early, and freely laved every part 
 of her skin with cold water, to fortify her frame 
 against the trying changes of the rigorous climate 
 of New England. In this way she escaped those 
 maladies which fritter away the charms of so 
 many ; and then she could expose herself with 
 impunity to the fresh air, and take proper exercise 
 at all seasons. The consequence was, that while 

 
 WHICH MAKES THE MAN. 
 
 57 
 
 other young ladies of the village were fretting 
 over their influenzas and sore throats, and shiver 
 ing around the hearth, Ellen could walk out on the 
 ice to see the great snow statue that Theodore 
 had been erecting ; and, if he attempted any of 
 his fun by throwing the snow in her face, she 
 could pay him back with interest in the same cold 
 coin, until her whole frame glowed with a health 
 ful warmth." 
 
 " It strikes me that Miss Ellen must have been 
 something of a romp." 
 
 " There, Mary ; you have talked enough. Light 
 the candles ; give me a fresh pen, and let me be 
 gin my next chapter."
 
 58 WEALTH AND WORTH ; OR, 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 " Seest thon my home ? Tis where yon woods are waving:, 
 
 In their green richness to the summer air ; 
 Where yon blue streams, a thousand flower-banks laving, 
 
 Lead down the hill a vein of light 'tis there !" 
 
 MBS. HEMANS. 
 
 MR. Wainbridge's prediction in regard to Har 
 ry Maverick was correct. He could not learn to 
 say no. He had not acquired that moral firmness 
 of character, which presents a bulwark to the al 
 lurements of frivolity and dissipation. That fatal 
 monosyllable " yes" was too often upon his lips, 
 when pleasure and society were the seducers. 
 
 His ambition was also a little too much mingled 
 with vanity. He was ambitious to sport as hand 
 some a span of horses as Ermine, and to appear 
 as well at recitations as Clare ; to be as indepen 
 dent in regard to the restrictions of college as 
 Hardworth, and yet to maintain an honorable rank 
 in his class. It was hardly possible to reconcile 
 these conflicting aims ; and yet Harry was, to a 
 certain extent, successful. Ermine and Hard- 
 worth were dunces, and none of the admiration, 
 which their horses and phaetons excited, was re 
 flected upon themselves. Harry learned his les 
 sons, but also " made a dash" with his horses. 
 
 To accomplish this, he was obliged to break in 
 upon the hours which should have been devoted 
 to sleep ; and his health suffered for a time in 
 consequence.
 
 WHICH MAKES THE MAN ? 59 
 
 Two years had passed by, at Cambridge, when 
 the following conversation might have been heard 
 among some of the students of his class (he was 
 now a junior), as they swung upon one of the iron 
 chains that enclosed the college green. 
 
 " Well, who will be first this term, Belknap ?" 
 
 " Oh, Clare, of course. There is no such thing 
 as beating him in Greek and mathematics, although 
 Maverick has the highest mark for themes." 
 
 " If Maverick would turn to and study, he might 
 easily be first." 
 
 " It has always been a marvel to me how that 
 fellow finds time to look at his lessons at all. He 
 is always on hand at the clubs, is first among the 
 Porcellians and Knights, and plays second fiddle 
 to no one at the Pierian. When he is not on horse 
 back he is with his fencing-master. He goes into 
 town almost every other night to parties ; and 
 when you drop in at his room, you generally find 
 him surrounded by company." 
 
 " Yes ; Maverick is generally admitted to be 
 the best fellow in his class." 
 
 " How different from Ermine and Hardworth ! 
 Are not they nice boys ?" 
 
 " That reminds me that I once heard Hardworth 
 call Maverick a coward, behind his back. I be 
 lieved him for a while Maverick is so apt to turn 
 upon his heels, and walk away, when any one is 
 rude but I saw a little occurrence the other day, 
 which made me change my opinion. A poor crip 
 ple was playing a hand-organ beneath Hardworth's 
 window, when Hardwortb rushed out, and began 
 abusing him, and finally threw down the organ 
 and broke it. Maverick came up, helped the poor 
 fellow to collect the fragments, and then, asking
 
 60 WEALTH AND WORTH ; OR, 
 
 what it would cost to repair it, gave the astonish 
 ed music-grinder ten dollars. A crowd of students 
 had by this time collected round the spot. The 
 cripple, as he moved away, cried out to Harry, 
 ' Long life to your honor, and better manners to 
 that big blackguard !' With a face livid with 
 passion, Hardworth sprang forward to strike him ; 
 but Maverick interposed, and, without much ap 
 parent effort, threw Hardworth off." 
 
 " And what did Hardworth do ?" 
 
 " We were disappointed in him. He had al 
 ways been considered the bully of the class. He 
 simply raised his fist, and told Harry to hold him 
 his debtor for this and other favors." 
 
 " Very shabby that in Hardworth ! Have you 
 heard whether Ermine is to be expelled ?" 
 
 " He has so often been threatened with expul 
 sion that he has become quite indifferent upon the 
 subject. His last offence was, bringing a bottle of 
 champagne into dinner at Commons, and then 
 popping off the cork into the tutor's face." 
 
 " There is the bell for recitation !" The con 
 versation ceased, and the two students passed on 
 to the chapel. 
 
 Harry soon found that learning was a jealous 
 mistress, who claimed undivided homage. The 
 flatteries and attentions of his city acquaintances 
 withdrew him more and more from his studies. 
 The reputation of his wealth threw many unpro 
 fitable associates in his way, who filched from him 
 his time, and often borrowed his money. He lost 
 rank in his class, and, what was worse, he lost his 
 spirits, and was troubled with severe headaches. 
 There is one odious practice which he did not 
 contract, but perhaps he owed his freedom from
 
 WHICH MAKES THE MAN ? 6l 
 
 it more to constitutional aversion than to the ab 
 sence of those influences which are favorable to 
 the acquirement of the habit. I allude to the vice 
 of using intoxicating drinks ; and I must confess 
 that I have yet great hopes of seeing him make 
 something, so long as this stigma cannot be attach 
 ed to his name. 
 
 It often happens in college, as well as in active 
 life, that two persons of congenial temper and pur 
 suits, with every facility for becoming familiarly 
 acquainted, meet and pass each other daily for 
 years, without any other intercourse than that of 
 cold civility. So it had been with Edwin Clare 
 and Henry Maverick. Edwin, while he could not 
 but admire the talents and acquisitions of his class 
 mate, believed him to be devoted to gayeties, which 
 he himself had neither the means nor the inclina 
 tion to enjoy. He accordingly kept aloof from 
 his society ; and Harry, accustomed to have his 
 acquaintance sought, attributed this shyness to a 
 sense of rivalry or to dislike. 
 
 On the evening at which we have now arrived, 
 Harry was promenading in one of the shady walks 
 that skirt the college grounds, when he came up 
 with Edwin, who seemed to be sauntering like 
 himself for recreation. As classmates, they could 
 not well avoid bidding each other good evening. 
 Clare was passing on, when Harry remarked : 
 " How happens it, Clare, that though you have 
 the reputation of being the hardest student in 
 Cambridge, you manage to look always so ruddy 
 and healthful ?" 
 
 " Why, Maverick, it must be partly owing to 
 the fact that I brought with me to college a bounti 
 ful stock of health, and partly because I never 
 6
 
 62 WEALTH AND WORTH J OB, 
 
 overwork my brain, if ever so anxious to master a 
 lesson. Besides, I pass my Saturdays, and some 
 times my Sundays, at Capeville, and there I have 
 an ample opportunity to recruit. The fresh sea- 
 air soon reinvigorates me." 
 
 " I find I cannot study long," said Harry, " with 
 out feeling a dizziness, which unfits me for strenu 
 ous reflection." 
 
 " Why not rusticate for a week or two, and 
 then come back to your books like a giant re 
 freshed ?" 
 
 " If I could find a place where I should not 
 perish from ennui, and yet escape society, I think 
 I would try that plan. Would you recommend 
 Capeville ?" 
 
 " I fear it would not suit you at all, unless you 
 can content yourself with snipe-shooting and fish 
 ing. It is, moreover, so near to Nahant, that you 
 would be constantly tempted to rejoin the society 
 you wish to avoid. I would recommend some in 
 terior town in preference." 
 
 " I must be near the sea. Come, Clare, you 
 shall let me drive you down to Capeville next 
 Saturday. Don't say ' No,' for I am really solici 
 tous to find some place where to pass the brief 
 summer vacation." 
 
 " Very well," said Edwin, laughing ; " I will 
 endeavor td*rnake your visit agreeable. You know 
 Capeville has been of late years a favorite haunt 
 of the sea-serpent. If we could only engage his 
 scaly majesty for ' this occasion only positively 
 his last appearance' as the play-bills say, you 
 would have at least something to boast of during 
 your stay." 
 
 " Undoubtedly his performances would be re-
 
 WHICH MAKES THE MAN ? 63 
 
 ceived with immense applause. Well, Clare, I 
 will call for you early on Saturday. Good night !" 
 
 " Good night !" 
 
 Soon after prayers on the day appointed, Har 
 ry's phaeton was driven up to the college gate, 
 and he and Edwin, arm in arm, proceeded toward 
 it along the avenue. Numberless were the sur 
 mises among the students at this unprecedented 
 spectacle. Maverick had hitherto been the ac 
 knowledged standard of ton, not only among his 
 classmates, but among all the youthful members 
 of the university. Happy was the freshman 
 whom he would honor with his notice ! Nor did 
 the senior scorn to seek an introduction to his 
 handsomely furnished rooms. 
 
 Clare had always been considered as hopeless 
 ly out of fashion. The embryo Brummels of his 
 class would profess to be seriously afflicted by the 
 antediluvian cut of his coat. Drawing upon Mr. 
 Joseph Miller for an indifferent joke, they would 
 remark, that his hat must be terribly sleepy, inas 
 much as it had not had a nap for three years. 
 Aware of the feelings excited by his plain though 
 cleanly appearance, Clare was careful in choosing 
 for his associates such only as did not regard the 
 paltry distinctions of dress ; and these, I am sorry 
 to say, did not constitute a large proportion of his 
 class. 
 
 You may judge of the surprise among the knot 
 of students who had now collected around the 
 gate, on seeing Clare and Maverick enter the 
 phaeton and drive off. Ermine openly declared 
 that " he should cut Maverick after this ;" and 
 Hardworth intimated that Harry had always a 
 taste for low company. By some silly youths
 
 64 WEALTH AND WORTH ; OR, 
 
 these remarks were received with satisfaction ; by 
 others, with smiles of silent derision. 
 
 It was a warm, delightful day in June, when the 
 two new friends set out upon their excursion to 
 Capeville. 
 
 " The lanes were full of roses, 
 
 The fields were grassy deep, 
 The leafiness and floweriness 
 Made one abundant heap." 
 
 Edwin was in high spirits ; and he imparted his 
 stores of amusing and curious information, some 
 gathered from books and some from experience, 
 with a lavish profusion. 
 
 " Why have we not known each other long 
 since ?" said Henry. 
 
 " I saw you surrounded by acquaintances," re 
 plied Edwin ; " and I knew that they wasted 
 enough of your time." 
 
 " And I thought that you, Clare, must be a very 
 unsocial and austere sort of fellow, who would 
 rather dig at a Greek root than smell the hedge 
 row roses." 
 
 " How much mistaken yon were ! I have never 
 enjoyed anything more than this bright summer 
 morning. What a dashing team you drive, Maver 
 ick ! Your horses move as if guided by one will." 
 
 " Ah ! you must let me take you to Eagles- 
 wood, if you wish to see horses. You should see 
 my fast-trotting bay, and the beautiful Arabian that 
 my sister Emmeline rides. You should see Em- 
 meline, too." 
 
 " Then you have a sister ?" 
 
 " Thank Heaven, yes ! 

 
 WHICH MAKES THE MAN 1 65 
 
 * A spirit she ! and Joy her name ! 
 
 She walks upon the air ; 
 Grace swims throughout her fragile frame, 
 And glistens like a lambent flame 
 Amid her golden hair.' " 
 
 " This rosy morning has made you poetical, 
 Maverick. How we skim over the ground ! I 
 can see the steeple of our village church already." 
 
 " Yes ; there is Capeville. I smell the briny 
 air from the Atlantic. It has revived me already. 
 My headache is gone." 
 
 " You are an enthusiast, Maverick." 
 
 " And you ?" 
 
 " I am, perhaps, somewhat prosaic and practical 
 in my temper. The bed of circumstances is like 
 that of Procrustes ; if we are too long, we have to 
 be docked to conform to it ; and if we are too short, 
 we are stretched out. Happily, I just fitted the 
 bed in which I found myself." 
 
 " And so you have neither suffered amputation 
 nor elongation ?" 
 
 " I have never had cause to find fault with my 
 lot." 
 
 " Well ; you might justly charge me with in 
 gratitude to Heaven if I but tell me, tell me, 
 Clare, who is that beautiful girl crossing the road 
 with a basket of strawberries ? A lad is by her 
 side. You look the wrong way. She sees us. 
 She bows. Who is she ?" 
 
 " A young lady with whom I am quite inti 
 mately acquainted." 
 
 " Ho ! a sweetheart! You shall introduce me, 
 nevertheless. What a face ! And with what a 
 careless grace that plaid scarf falls about her 
 shoulders ! Now, Clare, do your duty. 
 6*
 
 66 WEALTH AND WORTH ; OR, 
 
 ' She glideth on a sunny gleam, 
 In youth and innocence so bright ; 
 She lendeth lustre to day-light, 
 And life to solitude.' " 
 
 Harry drew up his horses near the side of the 
 road, where the rural beauty was passing, and Ed 
 win simply said: " Sister Ellen, this is my class 
 mate and friend, Mr. Maverick. Make him wel 
 come to Capeville." 
 
 " He is most welcome, Edwin, being your friend. 
 I am sure that mother will say the same." 
 
 Harry felt a little relieved, he knew not why, on 
 learning the true relation in which Clare stood to 
 Ellen. He dismounted from his phaeton, giving 
 the reins to Edwin ; and it was arranged that the 
 latter should ride round to the tavern to bait the 
 horses, while Maverick accompanied Ellen to the 
 cottage. Theodore stood wistfully gazing at the 
 noble-looking span, when, at Harry's invitation, he 
 entered the carriage with Edwin, and was rolled 
 away in fine style toward the tavern stable. 
 
 " What's to pay now ?" said Miss Snim, as she 
 watched these proceedings from the window of a 
 little " variety-shop," where she dealt in buttons, 
 tape, and calicoes by the retail, and in scandal by 
 the wholesale. " If there isn't Ned Clare with a 
 stylish young colleger stopping in a harouche with 
 two horses, to speak to his sister Nell ! And now 
 the colleger jumps out, and takes her basket of 
 strawberries and carries it ; and Theodore and 
 Ned drive off; and Nell walks away with her new 
 beau, as unconcerned as if she had twenty just 
 like him at her feet every day. Here's pretty go 
 ings-on for Capeville !" 
 
 And Miss Snim went from the window to the
 
 WHICH MAKES THE MAN? 67 
 
 door to watch every motion of the couple, till an 
 angle in the road took them from her scandalized 
 sight. She then locked up her shop, thereby losing 
 three or four good customers, and hurried off to 
 communicate the astounding intelligence to those 
 who she thought would take the most intense in 
 terest in the recital. 
 
 Ellen, though plainly clad in a coarse calico 
 gown, felt no false mortification or regret, because 
 she had not been found in a better dress. There 
 was that indescribable grace about her attire, hum 
 ble as it was, which seems to be the result of 
 innate taste, and not of education. She had no 
 fashionable mantuamaker to thank for it ; for she 
 cut and made up all her own and her mother's 
 clothes herself: but there it was, obvious to all 
 eyes that could apprehend the beautiful ! The 
 charm was simplicity a conformity to nature a 
 sympathy with that beauty which clothes the lily 
 and droops in the willow's curve. 
 
 " How delicious is the perfume of these straw 
 berries !" said Henry Maverick, holding up the 
 basket which Ellen had almost filled. 
 
 " They are wild ones," replied Ellen. " They 
 have more flavor than those that are cultivated in 
 gardens, though somewhat smaller in size." 
 
 " Does time never hang heavy on your hands, 
 Miss Clare, in this secluded little place ?" 
 
 " Quite the contrary! I often wish the day were 
 twice as long. And what is very odd, the more I 
 do, and the more I read, and study, the more I 
 find to do, read and, study. A very hopeless case, 
 is it not, Mr. Maverick ?" 
 
 " Not when we recollect that we have an im 
 mortality for the exercise of our faculties."
 
 68 WEALTH AND WORTH ; OR, 
 
 " Ah, sir, that is quite true. I was not alto 
 gether serious in my question." 
 
 " And who would be serious such a day as this, 
 Miss Clare ; when, as Bryant says, ' our Mother 
 Nature is laughing around ?' The blue bird that 
 is just alighting on that old apple-tree will sing a 
 different song." 
 
 " You are an admirer of nature, sir ?" 
 
 " Yes, and it is therefore that I have come to 
 Capeville." 
 
 The bloom upon Ellen's cheek was slightly 
 heightened as she replied : " You will see it here 
 in its most rugged and majestic forms. The soli 
 tary beach ; the foam-beaten crag, where the sea- 
 birds scream and wheel ; the stunted pine-tree in 
 the midst of barrenness ; the distant sail ; the 
 roar of breakers ; these are the sights and sounds 
 which you may enjoy upon our coast. I have for 
 gotten one thing more," added Ellen, fearing that 
 she had been a little too poetical " the sea ser 
 pent !" 
 
 " And you charge me with admiration for na 
 ture, Miss Clare ! Why, you are yourself not only 
 an admirer, but a rhapsodist." 
 
 " Not so bad as that ! I only go so far as to es 
 cape meriting the description which Wordsworth 
 gives of Peter Bell." 
 
 " And what is that ?" 
 
 " ' In vain, through every changeful year, 
 
 Did nature lead him as before; 
 A primrose by the river's brim 
 A yellow primrose was to him, 
 
 And it was nothing more.' 
 
 " Yes, Mr. Maverick, I am just enough of the
 
 WHICH MAKES THE MAN * 69 
 
 rhapsodist to see something more in a primrose 
 than a mere vegetable, and something more in a 
 strawberry than a mere eatable. Consider what 
 gainers we are by this faculty of increasing the 
 value of things by discovering in them properties 
 and charms which many do not estimate !" 
 
 " Is there an institution in Capeville for teach 
 ing young ladies philosophy, poetry, and all that 
 sort of thing?" asked Harry, in a tone of raillery. 
 
 " Yes," replied Ellen, smiling ; arid then, with 
 a more serious manner, she added, " and God is 
 its principal !" 
 
 Edwin's voice was heard calling to them ; and 
 Ellen suddenly found that they had passed some 
 rods beyond the cottage gate. She apologized in 
 genuously for the inadvertence ; and leading the 
 way into the house, introduced " Edwin's friend, 
 Mr. Maverick," to her mother. 
 
 Few are the cottages in New England, which 
 cannot boast of their " best chamber," kept sacred 
 for the casual guest or the married son, who comes 
 home to " thanksgiving." Harry was shown to 
 that one, which bore this distinction at the Clare 
 cottage, with a readiness that assured him he had 
 " put nobody out" by his coming. How pure, 
 and white, and clean everything appeared in it ! 
 How like newly-drifted snow, the coverlet and the 
 pillows ! And then the simple little wash-stand, 
 with its liberal supply of towels, and the little 
 glass in the rose-wood frame hanging over it! 
 And, in the middle of the room, the old-fashioned 
 round table, with a leaf, that shut down perpen 
 dicularly ! But now it was covered with a plain 
 white cloth, and there was a single volume in the
 
 70 WEALTH AND WORTH J OR, 
 
 centre, handsomely bound and gilt. It was the 
 Book of books. 
 
 Many a well-meaning housewife, on receiving 
 an unexpected guest, whom she believes to be ac 
 customed to accommodations far superior to any 
 thing she can afford, will begin by offering excu 
 ses, and expressions of regret, that she cannot 
 give him this luxury and that; she will bid him 
 welcome to the best she has, but " she wishes for 
 his sake it was better." All this is very super 
 fluous, and in very bad taste. Far different was 
 Mrs. Clare's mode of welcoming her son's friend. 
 
 The breakfast bell rang, and Harry, on entering 
 the room, found a table spread with a plain, but 
 substantial meal. The incomparable strawberries 
 were not forgotten. Harry did extreme justice to 
 them in particular. He amused his new friends 
 with lively anecdotes of college life and of scenes 
 at " commons ;" described the suspicious-looking 
 soups, the adamantine puddings, and the venerable 
 chickens, which the students sometimes had to en 
 counter at meals ; and narrated some of those old 
 traditional practical jokes, handed down from class 
 to class, which freshmen are wont to burn to emu 
 late. Theodore thought he should choke with 
 laughter. 
 
 How quickly the day seemed to glide by to all ! 
 Ellen sang over her best songs, and then Harry 
 read aloud from the " Lady of the Lake," which was 
 a new-year's present to her from Theodore. Soon 
 after dinner, they strolled down to the beach. Ma 
 ny a gay carriage passed them by, and many a 
 fair lady would bow to Harry, and then look back 
 and wonder " who couU be the persons Maverick 
 was walking with." Had Ellen been a little more
 
 WHICH MAKES THE MAN? 71 
 
 observant, she might have seen that she was sub 
 jected to many a rude stare, and many an illiberal 
 remark. But she had none of that shyness which 
 springs from vanity. She was not self-conceited 
 enough to be diffident. 
 
 As our party were returning home along the 
 beach, they encountered a gay vehicle, containing 
 two young men, who were driving their horses at 
 a furious speed along the beach. As they drew 
 nigh, they slackened their pace a moment, and 
 then, observing Maverick and his friends, turned 
 and drove so near to them, as to scatter the sand 
 over their feet, and oblige them to move from their 
 track. The youths, who succeeded in performing 
 this exquisite and gentlemanly feat, were Messrs. 
 Ermine and Hardworth. A coarse laugh was 
 heard from them as they drove away, congratulat 
 ing themselves upon the impromptu felicity and 
 delectable cleverness of their joke. 
 
 " I might have upset their vehicle, Maverick," 
 said Edwin, " if I had chosen to endanger the little 
 brains they have." 
 
 " How so ?" asked Harry, who could not but 
 admire the coolness of his companion, while he 
 himself was chafing with indignation at the imper 
 tinence of the light-headed rakes. 
 
 " By resting this stout stick upon a stone in this 
 manner, and placing it in the way of the left 
 wheels," said Edwin. 
 
 " The punishment would not have been too se 
 vere for them." 
 
 " I fear they have been indulging in wine," said 
 Mrs. Clare ; "for their faces seemed flushed. Ah, 
 wine, sir, is the introductory step to all misdo 
 ings."
 
 72 WEALTH AND WORTH ; OR, 
 
 With what a look of virtuous wonder and re 
 signed amazement did Miss Snim, the next morn 
 ing, which was Sunday, see Henry Maverick ac 
 company Ellen to church ! 
 
 " Well, if something doesn't come of this, some 
 thing ought to, that I will say ;" whispered the 
 amiable spinster to her neighbor. 
 
 Harry took leave of the Clares that evening, 
 and returned to his studies at Cambridge, much 
 gratified and impressed by what he had seen of 
 refinement of manners and intellectual cultivation 
 in an humble walk of New England rural life. 
 Often as his thoughts recurred to Ellen, and her 
 " household motions, light and free," and the little 
 cottage kept in order by her care, he would return 
 to it in memory, and exclaim : 
 
 " The spirit of contentment, maiden dear, 
 Is breathing in thy very atmosphere ; 
 I feel it sway me while I linger here. 
 The sense of neatness, felt in everything, 
 Speaks with a mother's voice, and bids thee spread 
 The little table with its covering, 
 The floor with clean sand crackling to the tread. 
 Everywhere round the hand beloved I trace, 
 That makes a paradise of any place."
 
 WHICH MAKES THE MAN ? 73 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 " But now the day's for ever gone 
 . When thou wert like a bird ; 
 
 And singing in so soft a tone 
 As I never since have heard." T. K. HERVEY. 
 
 " WHAT inseparable cronies Clare and Maver 
 ick have become all at once !" said Belknap to his 
 friend Jones. 
 
 " Yes. Harry never asks us to ride to Fresh 
 Pond with him at sundown, as he used to. No 
 one will content him as a companion but Clare." 
 
 " Did you ever see a fellow look so seedy as 
 Clare does in that rusty coat and hat ? I wonder 
 that Harry doesn't give him some of his cast-oft* 
 clothes." 
 
 " It is very eccentric in Harry to attach himself 
 to such a fellow. He ought to lose caste by it ; 
 but instead of that, he is more thought of than 
 ever by the class." 
 
 " That is because he has made himself so ex 
 clusive of late. And then he has so much money 
 to spend ; and he has such an off-hand way of do 
 ing things !" 
 
 " Hardworth and his clan are more exasperated 
 against him than ever. So long as he was a com 
 petitor in horse-flesh with their great man they 
 could keep their temper, but the coolness and in 
 difference of his present conduct are intolerable." 
 
 " Did you hear what Ermine had been sus 
 pended for ?" 
 
 7
 
 74 WEA.LTH AND WORTH; OR, 
 
 " He was found tipsy at the theatre last week." 
 " Poor fellow ! What a melancholy spectacle 
 it must be to him to see so many temperance so 
 cieties springing up !" 
 
 " Come to recitation ! There is the bell !" 
 Nearly two months had passed since Harry had 
 visited Capeville. He had sent, through Edwin, 
 a volume of music handsomely bound to Ellen, 
 which was very properly accepted. Mrs. Clare 
 did not encourage her son, however, to invite him 
 again to the cottage. She saw that he was quite 
 well enough pleased with Ellen's society, and she 
 feared that a prolonged acquaintance would make 
 Ellen equally pleased with his. Both were young ; 
 and Mrs. Clare was aware of the prejudices of the 
 rich and fashionable in regard to the alliances of 
 their children. 
 
 The autumnal vacation was now approaching ; 
 and Henry Maverick was preparing to return to 
 Eagles wood. He had wished, however, first to 
 take leave of his friends at Capeville ; and Edwin, 
 who was becoming sincerely attached to him, 
 could not forbear inviting him to make another 
 visit. Together they again left Cambridge, and, 
 on a fine morning in August, drew up before the 
 little cottage at Capeville. Again did Miss Snim 
 thrust her sharp visage out of the window of her 
 shop, and again did she wonder what the " young 
 colleger" had to do at the Widow Clare's cottage. 
 " Well !" exclaimed Miss Snim, " if the select 
 men don't inquire into this business, then it's be 
 cause they don't know their duty that I will say. 
 The next thing we shall hear of will be an elope 
 ment or something worse. I have always told the 
 widow, that Miss Nell was a little too forward and
 
 WHICH MAKES THE MAN ? 75 
 
 independent in her movements for my taste. Oh, 
 I wish I had the bringing-up of her ! She shouldn't 
 open her lips in the presence of a man under six 
 ty, unless it was a settled clergyman, and she 
 shouldn't sit in the singing-seats unless there was 
 a married woman on each side of her. Well ! it 
 shan't be my fault, if she goes to ruination. I'll 
 just shut up my shop, and run and ask old Mrs. 
 Prim what had better be done about it." 
 
 Harry's reception at the cottage was cordial on 
 all sides ; and the fact cannot be denied, that there 
 was a little more heartiness in Ellen's welcome 
 than a coquette would have thought prudent. 
 
 The day flew rapidly by. Ellen, after singing 
 some of the new songs Harry had presented, was 
 putting on her bonnet for another walk with him 
 to the beach, when a man on horseback, who had 
 evidently been riding at considerable speed, stop 
 ped before the cottage. He inquired for Mr. 
 Henry Maverick, and put a packet sealed with 
 black into his hands, saying that he had been sent 
 all the way from New York to deliver it that he 
 had stopped at his apartments at Cambridge, and 
 learned from an old woman, that Mr. Henry had 
 gone to Capeville for a day or two with Mr. Clare. 
 Immediately mounting a horse, he had found his 
 way to the cottage, having inquired at a little shop 
 round the corner, if there were any such person as 
 Mr. Clare in the village. 
 
 Long before the man had finished his story, 
 
 Harry had seized the packet, and, with -,-, 1 " "' 
 
 j. i. 11 T- tir - Emme- 
 
 and a beattng heart, having asker' , ghe wm 
 
 him for a few moments, had j ^ which 
 her to discover the content^ ^ ig ru gling 
 " Is the news bad ?" a? 
 
 7*
 
 76 WEALTH AND WORTH ; OR, 
 
 with no little anxiety depicted in her counte 
 nance. 
 
 ; ' I can't say, miss. I was paid for my job, and 
 sent off in such a hurry as to have no time for 
 asking questions. The woman who keeps the 
 shop just round the corner yonder, kept me five 
 minutes asking me questions, or I should have 
 been here sooner. Isn't she a teaser ? I thought 
 she would seize hold of me, so cantankerous was 
 she to hear the news. I couldn't make her believe 
 that I had no news to tell." 
 
 At another time, Ellen might have smiled at 
 this instance of Miss Snim's ruling propensity ; 
 but she was now filled with anxiety, lest " her 
 brother's friend" might be in distress at the recep 
 tion of melancholy intelligence. 
 
 The news was melancholy, as the following 
 letter from Mr. Wainbridge will show : 
 
 " MY DEAR HENRY : The arrival of a special 
 messenger and the black seal upon my letter will 
 have prepared you for intelligence of a serious 
 and mournful character. A member of your family 
 is dead, and that member is your father. You 
 will of course return home with all possible ex 
 pedition ; but I fear you will not be in season to 
 attend his remains to their last resting-place. 
 
 " It appears that your father's affairs have been 
 very much involved of late. He had speculated 
 largely and boldly ; not only in that article of 
 
 ' i ~r~7-- m which he had been accustomed 
 men don t im,, ^ tern ]an(]g an(J various stocks of 
 cause they don t . The failure of some of thege 
 The next thing we . Voke in hig ^ 
 
 mentor something wo embarrassments 
 
 widow, that Miss Nell wa. 
 

 
 WHICH MAKES THE MAN ? 77 
 
 that soon affected his credit. The banks refused 
 him discounts, and his fellow-merchants declined 
 endorsing for him. He saw no means of meeting 
 his engagements. 
 
 " Last Friday night, he sat up writing and ex 
 amining a variety of complicate accounts. He 
 seems to have accomplished a vast amount of la 
 bor. His protracted mental exertion, combined 
 with anxiety and depression of spirits, produced a 
 determination of blood to the head, which was 
 fatal. He was found in the morning lifeless in 
 his chair, a sheet of paper half covered with fig 
 ures before him, and his ringers grasping the pen, 
 as if about to write. His countenance was placid, 
 and, from its expression, we may hope that he died 
 without pain. 
 
 " I need hardly add that this deplorable event 
 was totally unexpected to your family. Your 
 mother did not even know that her husband was 
 embarrassed in his affairs. He was not one to 
 carry the gloom of his business troubles and vex 
 ations into the domestic circle ; and, with the ex 
 ception that he seemed to be more immersed in 
 business than usual, and at night more restless 
 and wakeful, she saw no variation in his demeanor. 
 I conversed with him the day before his death. 
 He spoke of you with affection, and asked if I 
 had received a letter from you lately. 
 
 " Your mother is of course in very great afflic 
 tion. She is well enough to write you, however, 
 as you will see from the enclosed letter. Emme- 
 line appears to feel the shock deeply. She will 
 remain silent for hours, and does not weep ; which 
 is a bad symptom, where the mind is struggling 
 with intense grief. 
 
 7*
 
 78 WEALTH AND WORTH ; OR, 
 
 " I rely upon your firmness and manhood, my 
 dear Henry, to act well on this occasion. A great 
 responsibility will devolve upon you. It is now 
 time for you to show that you have not been a 
 mere student of words and things, but that your 
 heart and character have imdergone a fitting edu 
 cation, and that you are fortified by Christian faith 
 to endure this chastening of the Lord. My earnest 
 sympathy and co-operation are with you. Come 
 on here without delay. At the request of your 
 mother, I am superintending everything at Eagles- 
 wood. 
 
 "With constant prayers for your well-being, I 
 remain, Yours sincerely, 
 
 " STANLEY WAINBRIDGE." 
 
 The letter from Mrs. Maverick, referred to by 
 Mr. Wainbridge, was as follows : 
 
 " DEAR HARRY : You have heard the dreadful 
 news. Pray come on without delay. My nerves 
 are terribly shocked. Your poor father never told 
 me a word about his embarrassments. Eagles- 
 wood will have to be put under the hammer. I 
 shall not survive it, I fear. Your sister is no com 
 fort to me under this trial. While I am crying 
 and crying, she sits staring at me with her great 
 blue eyes, without shedding a tear or speaking a 
 word. I do wish she would take on a little. It 
 would be a relief. 
 
 " I have placed everything in Mr. Wainbridge's 
 hands, who is very good and considerate, and has 
 kept off three or four hungry-looking lawyers, who 
 came up the moment poor Mr. M.'s death was 
 announced in the city papers. Come with all
 
 WHICH MARKS THE MAN? 79 
 
 speed, my dear son, for I am terribly depressed by 
 this sad bereavement. Your affectionate mother, 
 "MARY MAVERICK." 
 
 Henry's grief was at first violent. He buried his 
 face in the pillow, and half stifled himself in the 
 attempt to repress the noise of his sobs. He re 
 called to mind the many instances of his father's 
 kindness and liberality, and of his own disobe 
 dience and neglect. He remembered the conversa 
 tion on the lawn, the day he sailed on the river, 
 contrary to his express command. With what 
 delicacy did his father avoid alluding to the sub 
 ject after the afflicting catastrophe which follow 
 ed ! How indulgent he had always been ! 
 
 Ah ! how poignantly does death make us feel 
 every past act of unkindness or neglect toward a 
 beloved object ! How do we reproach ourselves 
 for every harsh word, every angry look, every dis 
 obliging omission ! With what a sense of relief 
 does memory recur to those evidences of affection, 
 those deeds of love, which redeem the dark side 
 of the retrospect ! Let the lesson teach us to be 
 less chary of the charities and amenities of life ; 
 to conquer that fretfulness of temper, which is 
 too often productive of acerbities that imbitter 
 the intercourse between friends and kindred, and 
 leave rankling remembrances behind them. Let 
 us love one another. Brief is our sojourn in this 
 school of mortality. Why should we cloud our 
 fleeting days, and violate the primal law which 
 Christ has imposed, by our paltry quarrels and 
 misunderstandings ? Let us love one another. 
 
 Hours flew by without Harry's being aware that 
 minutes even had passed. Time stands still while
 
 80 WEALTH AND WORTH ; OR, 
 
 passion rages. At length a knock at the door 
 aroused him. He stared around, hardly recollect 
 ing where he was or what had happened. For a 
 moment he stood and asked himself, Is not this a 
 dream ? am not I myself a dream ? Consciousness 
 at length returned. He opened the door. With a 
 look of concern, Edwin entered, and asked if any 
 thing unfavorable had happened ? Harry handed 
 him Mr. Wainbridge's letter. Edwin read it, and 
 refolding the paper, gave it back. He did not at 
 tempt the hollow common-places of consolation. 
 He knew how like mockery they fall on the spirit 
 newly bruised. He simply advised Harry to leave 
 instantly for Boston, in order to be in season for the 
 train of cars that started in the afternoon for Provi 
 dence. Harry mutely assented. 
 
 The carriage was brought round from the tavern ; 
 and Edwin, re-entering his friend's room, told him 
 that all was ready for his departure. Harry took 
 his arm in silence, and they walked through the 
 entry toward the front door. Rallying his spirits, 
 he stepped into the parlor to take leave of Mrs. 
 Clare and Ellen. They had briefly learned from 
 Edwin the news of his affliction. He saw at once, 
 from their sympathizing looks, that no explanation 
 was required. Mrs. Clare received his proffered 
 hand, and said ; " My young friend, I will not pre 
 sume to attempt the consolation which God and 
 time alone can give. Our prayers are all we can 
 offer." 
 
 Ellen said nothing; for her heart was full as 
 she gazed in the pale face of " her brother's friend." 
 But the soul that beamed through her tears what 
 volumes of tenderness and of truth did it speak ! 
 Harry did not read them at the moment; but,
 
 WHICH MAKES THE MAN ? 81 
 
 years afterward, he recalled the seraph-like expres 
 sion with a vividness which reality could not have 
 surpassed. 
 
 With a simple " God bless you !" uttered in 
 faltering tones, he took leave of the kind-hearted 
 matron and her daughter, not forgetting Theodore, 
 who had been anticipating great sport from his 
 company, and who now seemed moved by a disin 
 terested sorrow. 
 
 It was agreed that Edwin should drive Harry to 
 the city, where he would probably arrive just in 
 season to take the cars. Edwin would then drive 
 to Cambridge, arrange his friend's baggage, and 
 send it to New York by the next day's convey 
 ance. This arrangement was effected. They reach 
 ed the depot some minutes before the cars started ; 
 bade each other an affectionate farewell ; and, be 
 fore nightfall, Harry found himself on board the 
 good steamboat Massachusetts, on his way home. 
 
 The night was dark and stormy. Not a star 
 was visible. On through the rough waters the 
 vessel plunged, with a wake of sparks above, and 
 of phosphoric foam below. Harry paced the hur 
 ricane deck alone for hours. At length a shower 
 of rain drove him to take shelter in the long cab 
 in. A dim light glimmered at either end. It was 
 past midnight. The passengers had retired to 
 their berths. The colored servants lay about on 
 the settees or on the floor. Things seemed more 
 gloomy here than on deck. The noise of the en 
 gine, the moaning of the wind, the laboring and 
 creaking of the vessel, as she staggered through 
 the opposing waves, combined to increase the sen 
 sation of desolateness and bereavement which 
 Maverick now experienced.
 
 82 WEALTH AND WORTH ; OR, 
 
 He moved toward the table, where a solitary 
 candle, with a long unsnufied wick, shed a feeble 
 ray. A book attracted his notice. It was a Bible, 
 presented, for the use of passengers, by one of those 
 beneficent societies, whose object it is to multiply 
 the Scriptures, and place them within the reach of 
 the whole human family. Trimming the candle, 
 Henry Maverick opened the volume at the fifteenth 
 chapter of the first Epistle of Paul to the Corin 
 thians, and read those sublime assurances of the 
 immortality of man, which must always carry a 
 consoling power to the heart of the Christian, and 
 which no person of intellect can peruse, without 
 feeling and acknowledging the superhuman inspi 
 ration of the language and the sentiment. 
 
 " For this corruptible must put on incorruption, 
 and this mortal must put on immortality." 
 
 Maverick closed the chapter, and covered his 
 face with his hands. An internal voice confirmed 
 the solemn truth. An awful consciousness of im 
 mortality possessed his soul. He knew that his fa 
 ther, though dead, was yet alive. The " husk of ani 
 mal organization" had broken, and the emancipated, 
 imperishable spirit had soared to a new existence. 
 Why repine at the ordinations of God ? With a 
 prayer of contrition and resignation in his heart, 
 Maverick bent over the sacred book. The storm 
 within his soul was hushed ; for " o'er its troubled 
 waves the Savior walked." Weary, but resigned, 
 the young mourner retired to his berth; and, though 
 the winds roared without, and the sea dashed fear 
 fully against the pitching vessel, he soon sank in 
 to a sweet and serene sleep. 
 
 Faint not in your noble enterprise, ye propaga 
 tors of God's Book of Life ! How often have ye
 
 WHICH MAKES THE MAN ? 
 
 83 
 
 been the means of shedding the light of its truth, 
 and the balm of its consolation, about the path of 
 earth-worn pilgrims ! How often have the sick 
 heart and the struggling spirit found cause to bless 
 your pious labors ! Ye may never know, in this 
 world, what souls ye have aided to purify and save, 
 or what breaking hearts ye have aided to heal ; 
 but God, who seeth the sparrow's fall, seeth also 
 these things. With him resteth your reward. 

 
 84 WEALTH AND WORTH; OR, 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 4 
 
 "Stephen. I see, Sir Thomas, 
 Some great misfortune has befallen you. 
 
 Clifford. No ! 
 
 1 have health ; I have strength ; my reason, Stephen, and 
 A heart that's clear in truth, with trust in God. 
 No great disaster can befall the man, 
 Who's still possessed of these." 
 
 KNOWLES. 
 
 " If we are to be taken from this abode, only let us hold to the right, 
 and wherever we are thrown, we can still retire to a charming apart 
 ment, where we can look round our own hearts with intrepidity and 
 with pleasure." 
 
 GOLDSMITH. 
 
 ON arriving at Eagleswood, Henry found Mr. 
 Wainbridge and Ralph Armstrong in the library, 
 busily engaged in arranging papers and unravel 
 ling accounts. The funeral had taken place the 
 day before. Hastily thanking his friends for their 
 attention, he went to seek his mother and sister. 
 Mrs. Maverick received him with hysterical fond 
 ness, followed by lamentations for their bereave 
 ment. Emmeline did not utter a sigh or shed a 
 tear. She received his embrace without return 
 ing it, and smiled faintly, as if unconscious of his 
 presence, when he looked in her face. 
 
 "I am afraid the poor child's wits are gone/' 
 said Mrs. Maverick ; " she walks about so quietly 
 and uncomplainingly. And no wonder she feels 
 the blow ! I am amazed at my own strength of 
 mind in not giving way to it. Oh, Harry, we
 
 WHICH MAKES THE MAN ? 85 
 
 are ruined ! Everything is lost. I doubt if we 
 shall have left to us the clothes on our backs." 
 
 Harry was pained at hearing his mother lay 
 more stress upon the loss of her property and posi 
 tion than of her husband. With some good quali 
 ties, she had, from an education which taught her 
 to attach too much importance to the frivolities of 
 fashion, contracted a worldliness of disposition 
 that imbued her whole character. She had mar 
 ried Mr. Maverick as much for his wealth as for 
 his amiable traits and unexceptionable person. 
 And now that he was dead, she mourned his de 
 parture, not merely because she was deprived of 
 his society, but because those worldly luxuries, 
 which he had always supplied, must now be aban 
 doned. If you ask, how happened it that Emme- 
 line did not inherit her mother's tastes and char 
 acter, I can only attribute it to the fact that nature 
 did the most for her education. Occupied with 
 her own affairs, Mrs. Maverick did not interfere 
 much with that great instructer. Emmeline pas 
 sed the greater part of the year in the country, 
 unchecked in her rambles, and almost unguided in 
 her pursuits. For the original direction of many 
 of her habits and studies, however, she was in 
 debted to an intelligent governess, who had passed 
 some time in Europe, and who took a deep inter 
 est in her pretty pupil. The governess, after re 
 maining nearly three years in the family, had 
 married and gone abroad. Henry's influence was 
 then not without its effect upon Emmeline's char 
 acter, and she followed him in all his favorite 
 studies with sympathetic fidelity. To her father 
 she had been devotedly attached ; and the shock 
 8
 
 86 WEALTH AND WORTH ; OR, 
 
 occasioned by his death seemed to stun and con 
 found her faculties. 
 
 Mrs. Maverick was proceeding to dilate upon 
 the disastrous condition of their affairs ; but Har 
 ry had no ear for anything so long as Emmeline 
 continued in her painfully passive state. He led 
 her forth into the open air. Old Hotspur came up 
 to them, not with frolicsome bounds as he was 
 wont, but with a sober pace and a demure and 
 wistful look, as if he would say : " This is melan 
 choly business for all of us." General Mingo stood 
 currying his " poor massa's" horse in the sun, as 
 if by that act he sought to blind his memory to the 
 loss he had sustained. On seeing Harry and Em 
 meline, he approached, shook hands with " young 
 massa," and then, with a mournful wave of the 
 head, returned to his labor. 
 
 Entering the garden, Henry Maverick led his 
 sister to the same rustic seat he had formerly oc 
 cupied with her, when recovering from his first 
 severe illness. The morning was fresh and clear. 
 The shower of the preceding day had washed the 
 sky of all its stains, and brightened the deciduous 
 foliage. The mellow earth seemed laughing in 
 the warm sunshine. 
 
 " Do you not remember," said Henry, taking 
 his sister's hand, " those days when you, Emme 
 line, used to sit by my bed-side, after poor Char 
 ley Brudenel had been lost in my gay little boat, 
 the Arrow ? and how you used to read to me 
 from that old book of Fairy Tales, with the picture 
 of Cherry and Fair Star in the beginning ? and 
 how, when I began to recover from my long ill 
 ness, you led me forth one bright morning like 
 this, to this very spot, and gathered for me flowers
 
 WHICH MAKES THE MAN? 87 
 
 and grapes like those ? and how Hotspur frolick 
 ed about us and barked, and you sang me that old 
 song what was it 1 You have not forgotten it ? 
 It ran something thus : 
 
 " Let us flit as bright as spring ; 
 Let us naught but pleasure bring.' " 
 
 At the mention of Charles Brudenel and the 
 Arrow, Emmeline's bosom had begun to heave, 
 and her eyes to glisten with intelligence ; and, as 
 Harry hummed the old song, with which when a 
 child she had essayed to win him from dark 
 thoughts, she murmured, " Brother ! It is you !" 
 And the fountain of tears was at once unsealed, 
 and she sank, weeping, upon his shoulder. From 
 that moment she seemed fully restored ; and her 
 cheek, which had grown wofully pale, gradually 
 reassumed its bloom. Harry led her to those high 
 sources of consolation, where he himself had found 
 relief ; and her soul was strengthened. With an 
 intelligence beyond her years, she now entered 
 into his labors, and communed with him as to their 
 plans for the future. 
 
 The condition of Mr. Maverick's affairs was 
 found even worse than had been anticipated. His 
 liabilities exceeded his available assets by a large 
 sum. Eagleswood had long since been mort 
 gaged at its full value, and it must now inevitably 
 be sacrificed. Indeed, it was discovered that after 
 all the property, accessible to creditors, was sur 
 rendered, and all the debts of the family were 
 paid, there would only remain personal property 
 enough to allow an annuity of two or three hun 
 dred dollars. This was a deplorable fall for a
 
 88 WEALTH AND WORTH ; OR, 
 
 family who had been accustomed to live at the 
 rate of twenty thousand a year. 
 
 Such was the most favorable result at which 
 Mr. Wainbridge could arrive, after laborious in 
 vestigations, and several consultations with the 
 lawyers, employed by Mr. Maverick's creditors. 
 Henry received the intelligence with composure. 
 The thought of surrendering Eagleswood, the 
 spot where he was born, and where he had passed 
 so many pleasant hours, was somewhat bitter. 
 The reflection that his mother and sister would be 
 deprived of the luxuries to which they had been 
 accustomed, brought with it a pang. His eye fell 
 on a fine blood horse, grazing in a neighboring 
 park, and the recollection that he must henceforth 
 content himself with exercise on foot, provoked a 
 momentary sigh. But he looked to Heaven for 
 support, and his unavailing regrets gave way. He 
 was no longer the creature of impulse. With his 
 religious faith, a deep and abiding principle had 
 been born, which actuated him now, and seemed 
 to supply in many instances the place of worldly 
 experience. He was resolved to do his duty. 
 Conscience and revelation would tell him what 
 that duty was. 
 
 Mrs. Maverick, after starting several impracti 
 cable plans, ended in confiding everything to 
 Henry declaring always, that she could not long 
 survive such a terriblje change of position, and tel 
 ling him to make sudh arrangements as he thought 
 wisest. After consulting with Mr. Wainbridge, 
 he determined upon his course. He engaged a 
 small house in the city, at an extremely moderate 
 rent, and furnished it comfortably from the nu 
 merous articles at Eagleswood which he saved
 
 WHICH MAKES THE MAN 1 89 
 
 from the hammer of the auctioneer. He then dis 
 charged all the servants, except a female cook, and 
 old Mingo. Indeed, it would have been a difficult 
 matter to discharge the latter. He would not have 
 stayed discharged. 
 
 Every article of property that was not imme 
 diately necessary was sold at auction the horses, 
 coaches, boats, pictures, statues, books, and the cab 
 inet of gems, with the aviary and hot-house plants 
 included. Harry also wrote to Edwin Clare to dis 
 pose of his horses, coach, and furniture at Cam 
 bridge, and, with the proceeds, to pay his college 
 debts a commission which was punctually dis 
 charged. He then called together, at Eagleswood, 
 all the minor creditors, trades-people, and laborers, 
 and settled their accounts. Knowing the circum 
 stances under which Mr. Maverick had died, many 
 of them had expected to be put off; and they now 
 witnessed with respect Mr. Henry's conduct. 
 
 One of them, a butcher, named Lewis, whose 
 bill amounted to upward of a hundred dollars, 
 waited until there was no danger of his being 
 overheard, and then requested Harry to let the bill 
 stand. 
 
 " Why so, Lewis ?" 
 
 " Well, to be candid and above board, Mr. Hen 
 ry, the moment I saw those three lawyers prowl 
 ing about the rooms, that moment I knew that they 
 would leave plaguey little of the tin behind them. 
 And so, you see, if it would be a convenience " 
 
 " Ah, Lewis, don't abuse the lawyers. I intend 
 to be a lawyer myself." 
 
 " Then there will be one honest lawyer of my 
 acquaintance, and depend upon it, Mr. Henry, I 
 will send you all the custom of our county." 
 8*
 
 90 WEALTH AND WORTH ; OR, 
 
 " Thank you, Lewis ; I will endeavor to justify 
 your good opinion." 
 
 . " Well, Mr. Henry, it is now ten years, come 
 next May, that I have supplied Eagleswood with 
 meat, and many is the pleasant greeting and com 
 panionable word that I have had from your father 
 and you. Never did I know him to haggle, like 
 some of his rich neighbors, about a cent or two in 
 the price of a pound of beef ; and never did he 
 dispute my bills, although once, I remember, I 
 charged him ten dollars too much a mistake 
 which I made all right in the next year's account. 
 And so, Mr. Henry, if you won't let the bill stand, 
 just say you will call on Sim Lewis, if you should 
 ever want the loan of a couple of hundred dollars 
 or so on long interest. Perhaps I could make it 
 twice as much on a pinch. Leave a note for me 
 at the Butchers' and Drovers' Bank in the Bow 
 ery, and you will be sure to hear from me in the 
 course of the next day." 
 
 Heartily thanking the honest butcher, Harry as 
 sured him that he would bear his generous offer 
 in mind. 
 
 Immediate preparations were now made for leav 
 ing Eagleswood, and removing to the humble dom- 
 icil which Henry had engaged in the city. The 
 furniture which he had retained had been packed 
 off, and a day was fixed for the departure of the 
 family ; but owing to the unfavorableness of the 
 weather, they tarried beyond the period fixed. At 
 length the sun rose clear and bright. It was a 
 beautiful morning in September. 
 
 " We will leave Eagleswood to-day, Emme- 
 line," said Henry. 
 
 " Yes, brother, we are all ready. I have found
 
 WHICH MAKES THE MAN ? 91 
 
 a purchaser for the harp. My old Italian master, 
 Bartozzi, has recommended it so strongly to Mrs. 
 Dan ton, that she has concluded to purchase it for 
 Lucy." 
 
 " And what will she give you for it, my dear ?" 
 
 " Oh, she says she will give two hundred dol 
 lars." 
 
 " Less than one half what it is worth. No, 
 Emmeline, don't let her have it. She knows per 
 fectly well that it cost seven hundred dollars not 
 two years ago. We must be shrewd in our bar 
 gains now, my dear, and always have an eye to 
 the main chance. I will send the harp to some 
 music-store, where we shall probably be able to 
 obtain for it at least half as much as it is worth." 
 
 " Dear me, children," sighed Mrs. Maverick, 
 " how can you talk so coolly about these things ? 
 I begin to think that you have no feeling." 
 
 " Why, mother," returned Emmeline, " is it any 
 great privation to part with my harp, when, by so 
 doing, I shall bestow the more attention on my pi 
 ano ?" 
 
 " Well, child, the piano will go next ; and what 
 will you do then ?" 
 
 " Oh, then I shall devote myself to cultivating 
 my voice, which would, perhaps, be much the best 
 plan. It will puzzle them to sell that at auction." 
 
 " La, child, how can you be so light-hearted, 
 when it isn't a month since your poor father died ? 
 You must always be either sad as an oyster, or 
 lively as a cricket. Why don't you take more af 
 ter me ?" 
 
 Emmeline felt the deep injustice of the strange 
 and inconsistent rebuke, and was silent. 
 
 Mrs. Maverick continued: "For my part, I
 
 92 WEALTH AND WORTH ; OR, 
 
 don't see much worth living for, now that every 
 thing is gone by the board. Dear me ! what will 
 the Van Rapps say ? How the Dantons will look 
 down on us ! And how that odious Mrs. Sumpter 
 will pretend to pity us, while all the time she is 
 chuckling at our downfall ! I wonder if Sir Wil 
 liam will bow to us in Broadway ? or if Charlotte 
 Ermine will ask us to her dejeuners ? Dear me !" 
 
 " We shall have this advantage," said Harry, at 
 the close of his mother's Jeremiad ; " an advan 
 tage which the rich cannot always enjoy we shall 
 know who are really our friends." 
 
 "Mercy upon it! how can a person expect 
 friends without the means of entertaining them ?" 
 
 " And so you would call the friends of your en 
 tertainments, your friends ? That is not good rea 
 soning, my dear mother. A person may be very 
 fond of my dinners, and yet care as little for me 
 as for the servant who hands him his soup." 
 
 " But is it not dreadful to descend so suddenly 
 in the world ?" 
 
 " Not unless we fall through our own follies or 
 crimes. I do not see why a man should not come 
 down hill as gracefully as he went up." 
 
 " Oh, it is very easy to talk, Harry, and philoso 
 phize, but the thing is to do. When it comes to 
 wanting a good dinner or decent clothes, you will 
 see the difference between speculation and real 
 ity." 
 
 " I can only pray that such reverses may not oc 
 cur through any delinquency on my part ; and that, 
 should they come, I may meet them manfully. 
 Ah, mother, it is a benign ordination of nature, 
 that affliction almost always brings with it its own 
 antidote. Every sphere of life has its peculiar 
 
 '
 
 WHICH MAKES THE MAN? 93 
 
 pleasures and pains. If we are low in fortune, 
 the desire to rise affords a worthy aim, and, if suc 
 cessful, a positive pleasure. If we are high, it may 
 be a satisfaction to behold so many beneath us ; 
 but which is the nobler and purer delight ?" 
 
 " Ah, Harry, when the stern struggles come, 
 you will find all this is mere boy's talk. I know 
 enough of the world to know that indigence is bit 
 ter." 
 
 " But we will not call that condition indigent, 
 mother, where we are merely deprived of super 
 fluous luxuries. While I have health, strength, 
 and independence, no man. can call me poor. 
 What says the old song ?" 
 
 " Psha, Harry ! you are always quoting scraps 
 of old songs." 
 
 " Well, listen to this, and believe there is some 
 thing more in it than rhyme and metre : 
 
 f Opinion is the rate of things, 
 
 From hence our peace doth flow ; 
 I have a better fate than kings. 
 Because I think it so.' " 
 
 " That is a very good song for beggars to sing, 
 Master Henry." 
 
 " God's pensioners we will be, my dear mother, 
 but not man's not while my right hand retains its 
 cunning." 
 
 Before the conversation could be resumed by 
 Mrs. Maverick, the noise of a scuffle in the entry 
 was heard, and with it Ralph Armstrong's voice, 
 exclaiming, " I forbid your entering that room, gen 
 tlemen. The family are there." 
 
 " And what care I for the family ?" said Raven- 
 stone Hardworth in reply ; " they engaged to leave
 
 94 WEALTH AND WORTH J OR, 
 
 this place yesterday. They have no longer any 
 right here. The place is my father's he has 
 bought it of the assignees. If these folks want 
 charity, let them apply to the parish authorities. 
 Open here, I say !" 
 
 Hardworth knocked violently at the door, and 
 Henry Maverick threw it open. Armstrong, who, 
 at this last climax of brutality, had struck the in 
 truder in the face, was struggling in his grasp, 
 while our estimable friend Ermine, armed with a 
 cane, was valorously endeavoring to find a safe 
 opportunity to hit the blacksmith's son a blow on 
 the head. Harry arrested him in his purpose, and 
 advised him to be prudent and step aside a moni 
 tion which was obeyed with alacrity. Then part 
 ing the combatants, Harry folded his arms, and 
 quietly regarded the young ruffian, who had taken 
 this opportunity to pay off old scores by an inso 
 lent abuse of authority. 
 
 For a moment, Hardworth was disconcerted ; 
 and then, rallying his bad passions, he said 
 " Come, Frank ! these good people mean to hang 
 on to the last ; but I suppose they will not object 
 to our examining the rooms." 
 
 " Do you mean to let them enter ?" asked Ralph. 
 Armstrong. 
 
 " Certainly," returned Harry ; " but I shall ac 
 company them, to see that they behave themselves 
 with decency in the presence of hidies." 
 
 Hardworth and his companion entered. Ermine 
 had a cigar in his mouth. Maverick politely request 
 ed hifn to throw it aside. Attributing the mild 
 ness of the tone to fear, Ermine refused. Harry 
 dashed the cigar out of his hands to the ground. 
 Ermine at first seemed disposed to resent the in-
 
 WHICH MAKES THE MAN ? 95 
 
 dignity, but speedily concluded that he would pass 
 it by with silent contempt. It seemed to him, as 
 he afterward said, that there was something dan 
 gerous in Maverick's eye. He did not venture to 
 pick up the cigar. Hardworth kept on his hat. 
 Maverick gently removed it, and handed it to him 
 with a bow. It was not again placed in its offen 
 sive positipn while the ladies were present, al 
 though the act caused Hardworth to bite his lip 
 till the blood came, with rage. He had entered 
 the house, prepared to bully and insult the whole 
 family ; but the quiet energy of Harry awed him 
 and his imbecile companion ; and the cold, proud 
 glance of Mrs. Maverick, who now drew herself 
 up with true and becoming dignity, made them feel 
 decidedly uncomfortable. 
 
 The silence was becoming embarrassing, when 
 Hardworth ventured to remark, that he should have 
 " those bow-windows altered, and that old-fashion 
 ed wainscoting knocked away. And, by the way, 
 that old oak-tree in front must bite the dust. It 
 intercepts the view of the steamboats on the river." 
 
 Poor Harry ! The old oak-tree was associated 
 with the earliest and happiest recollections of his 
 childhood. From one of its sturdiest branches 
 hung the swing, which had so often borne him and 
 Emmeline through the rushing air. She now 
 looked at him, as they heard the barbarous propo 
 sition, with a glance in which tenderness and in 
 dignation were strangely blended. 
 
 Mr. Ermine seemed struck with the propriety 
 of cutting down the old tree. Indeed, he did not 
 much see the use of having any trees on the place, 
 except one or two to smoke under in summer. He 
 declared, that if the estate were his, he would
 
 96 WEALTH AND WORTH ; OR, 
 
 " level that grove of chestnuts, and turn the ground 
 into a race-course." Then pulling out his watch, 
 he reminded his companion that the cock-fight at 
 Danforth's came off at one o'clock, and that he 
 would not miss it on any account, as he had bets 
 pending. Hardworth agreed that they ought not 
 to miss the sport ; and the two elegant young men 
 immediately started to go. Hardworth, when at 
 the door, turned to make some impertinent remark, 
 but he encountered the eyes of Ralph Armstrong, 
 looking so particularly " wolfish," that he conclu 
 ded to forbear ; and, taking Mr. Ermine's arm, he 
 departed, remarking to his companion, that " the 
 next time they came, they would bring along with 
 them the servants and dogs." 
 
 " There will be puppies if you come," said 
 Ralph, who was getting to be a little too pugna 
 cious, and whose hard, work-worn hands were 
 quivering to make an anvil of the soft heads of the 
 retiring worthies. 
 
 Hardworth possessed some little physical cour 
 age, and he turned to resent the remark ; but 
 Ermine drew him away, declaring that the con 
 test would be unequal, for that Armstrong, when 
 he " squared off, always reminded him of Deaf 
 Burke." 
 
 The coach that was to convey the Mavericks to 
 their new residence in the city was now at the 
 door. Mr. Wainbridge, the Brudenels, Ralph 
 Armstrong, and a number of poor people of the 
 village, who had been accustomed to receive Em- 
 meline's charitable visits, were on the piazza, to 
 take leave of the departing family. Mingo, who, 
 with the gayety of spirits peculiar to his people, 
 had reconciled himself to the change in the for-
 
 WHICH MAKES THE MAN ? 97 
 
 tunes of the family, was seated on the box with 
 the coachman. Mrs. Maverick had entered the 
 carriage, and sank back on the seat to give vent 
 to her tears. Mr. Brudenel was attempting, but 
 not with apparent success, to cheer her spirits. 
 Emmeline and Mary Brudenel were exchanging 
 kisses ; and an old Irish woman, who had received 
 many a kindness from the " young mistress," was 
 bidding " bad luck to the likes of those as would 
 hairin a hair of the darlint's head." 
 
 In his way to the coach, Henry Maverick pass 
 ed through the library where he had spent in early 
 youth so many happy and profitable hours. The 
 furniture and books had not been displaced. The 
 sun streamed cheerfully in at the window over the 
 rich carpet as of yore, lighting up even the stern 
 antique busts over the book-cases with a smile. 
 Harry paused. His eye scanned the titles of the 
 volumes on those shelves, with which he was most 
 i'amiliar. There they stood in the same places 
 which they had occupied as far back as his recol 
 lection could go. There were the sterling old edi 
 tions of Pope, and Addison, and Goldsmith, and 
 Johnson, and Milton, and Richardson, and Young, 
 and Burns, and Thomson, and Sterne, and their 
 contemporaries, the poets, moralists, and philoso 
 phers of the last century. There was the illus 
 trated edition of Shakspeare, over which he had 
 pored with the freshness of boyish admiration and 
 delight. There were Boswell's delightful volumes, 
 who has made us more intimately acquainted with 
 the great English lexicographer, than if we had 
 lived and dined with him. There were the works 
 of our own Franklin, the wit, statesman, and sage ; 
 and there were thousands more. How wistfully 
 9
 
 98 WEALTH AND WORTH ; OR, 
 
 did Harry look at these brave old companions ! 
 His breast began to heave. It seemed like tear 
 ing himself away from living friends. And had 
 they not been living friends, counsellors, and com 
 panions to his heart and mind ? 
 
 Banishing his regrets with a sigh, he left the 
 room, with its " old familiar faces," and hastened 
 to join his sister and mother. They all took their 
 places in the coach. Harry shook hands with his 
 friends, and, by a strong effort, repressed the out 
 ward signs of emotion. Mr. Wainbridge and Ralph 
 promised to visit him soon in the city. Mr. Brude- 
 nel and Mary, with tearful eyes, bade him fare 
 well. The old servants of the family, and a num 
 ber of the poor people of the village who stood 
 by, cried : " God bless you, Master Harry !" and, 
 " The Lord prosper you, your honor!" and, " Good 
 luck to the likes o' you !" And amid these excla 
 mations and good wishes, the coachman drove off. 
 Down the wide gravelled avenue, bordered by ven 
 erable elms, rolled the carriage. The very branch 
 es of the trees, as their leaves brushed the coach 
 window, seemed to wave a not unkind adien. The 
 mansion rose white and fair in the sunshine, and 
 never did its aspect seem more endearing than at 
 this moment of surrendering it. A descent in the 
 road soon hid it from view, and then the broad 
 blue Hudson flashed on the sight, in all its glory. 
 They soon reached the end of the avenue. The 
 gate, which formed the southern boundary of the 
 Eagleswood estate, was thrown open by some well- 
 dressed children of the village, who courtesied 
 and bowed ; and the next moment the coach was 
 on the main road leading along the bank of the 
 river to the city of New York.
 
 WHICH MAKES THE MN ? 99 
 
 For two or three miles the inmates of the coach 
 seemed tacitly to sympathize in one another's 
 grief. Emmeline, with one hand clasping her 
 brother's, held her handkerchief to her eyes with 
 the other ; and Mrs. Maverick, contrary to her 
 usual custom, was profoundly silent. 
 
 Happening to look out of the coach-window, 
 Harry, to his surprise, saw Hotspur trotting along 
 by the side of the vehicle as unconcernedly as 
 if permission had actually been given him to visit 
 the city. The fact was, that the dog had been 
 consigned to the care of Ralph Armstrong, and 
 shut up, lest if he followed the family to New 
 York he might fall a victim to the dog-law, which 
 at that time was enforced with rigor. Harry or 
 dered the coachman to stop, and then directed Min- 
 go to drive the dog back. Mingo obeyed, and, dis 
 mounting, began to remonstrate with Hotspur, 
 much as he would with a human being, telling him 
 that if the dog-killers " seed him in Broadway he 
 would be a used up child before he was a day 
 older," asking him if he wished to be made into 
 " sassengers" urging him to go home and, 
 finally, threatening him with the whip. To all 
 these appeals, Hotspur was inexorable. He bark 
 ed, as much as to say, "The dog-killers can't 
 frighten this child." When Mingo attempted to 
 beat him he would retreat, and then, as soon as 
 the general's back was turned, crouch and creep 
 along again after the coach. 
 
 At length the attempt to induce him to return 
 home was abandoned as hopeless, and they drove 
 on. Hotspur trotted patiently along ; and after 
 they had gone three or four miles, Harry ordered 
 the coach to stop again, and opening the door, told
 
 100 WKALTH AND WORTH ; OR, 
 
 the dog to come in. Wriggling with delight like 
 a snake, at the invitation, Hotspur gave* a leap, and 
 was at his master's feet, pawing about, and utter 
 ing a low yelp of gratification. 
 
 " Down, sir, down !" said Harry ; and the dog 
 quietly curled himself on the carpet at his feet, 
 and resting his head on his forepaws, looked si 
 lently up in his master's face with eyes beaming 
 with sagacity and affection. The coach drove on, 
 and two hours afterward, the party reached the 
 city.
 
 WHICH MAKES THE 
 
 MAN? 101 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 " Are you in earnest ? seize this very minute 
 What you can do, or dream you can, begin it ; 
 Boldness has genius, power, and magic in it." 
 
 GOETHE, translated by ANSTER. 
 
 ONE of the most disheartening experiences 
 which a young man, who is thrown suddenly into 
 the worlds busy arena encounters, is the finding 
 that humility of station and inoffensiveness of con 
 duct are not always a security against the enmity 
 and malevolence of his fellow-beings. More espe 
 cially is the youth likely to meet with this experi 
 ence in his career, if he have energy of character 
 enough to pursue an independent course, and to 
 abide rigidly by certain principles of action, which 
 his reason and conscience have approved. 
 
 Warned by Mr. Wainbridge of one of the most 
 perilous defects in his character, his pliability of 
 temper, Henry Maverick had, by vigilance and 
 resolution, reformed it altogether. Principle, and 
 not impulse, was now his guide. The new re 
 sponsibilities which had fallen upon him, tended 
 to confirm and indurate those adopted traits, which 
 he believed to be the constituents of manliness. 
 At the age of seventeen he found himself in a 
 great city, with a mother and sister, whose means 
 united to his own were fcarely sufficient to obtain 
 for them the necessaries of life/ He felt that his 
 9*
 
 102 WEALTH AND WORTH; OR, 
 
 own intelligence must now direct him ; and, 
 though always willing to enlighten his opinions 
 by the advice and suggestions of others, he was 
 resolved, that if his little bark must be wrecked, 
 it should not be through his intrusting the helm 
 to another's hand, however that other might boast 
 of his superior experience and skill. 
 
 It is this " power of not being acted upon" by 
 others, which, though it may raise up enemies to 
 us for a time, is, if accompanied by virtue and in 
 telligence, almost certain, in the long run, to win 
 for us success. Madame de Stael, in her delinea 
 tion of Bonaparte, remarks, with her usual sagaci 
 ty, that it was rather because other men did not 
 act upon him, than because he acted upon them, 
 that he became their master ; and the moralist, 
 who cites this example, adds : " The susceptibility 
 of being acted upon unfits him, who is extremely 
 subject to it, for success in active life." 
 
 Now it happened, that a day or two after the 
 Mavericks had established themselves in their 
 humble dwelling, which stood in one of those 
 streets leading from the East River to the Bowery, 
 they received a visit from Mr. Bloomwell, a mer 
 chant, who had known the family in their prosperi 
 ty, and who now came with the honest intention 
 of doing them a kindness. He was one of those 
 men, however, who, though sincerely pious and 
 religious, seem to fail, rather through a mental 
 than a moral deficiency, in humility. Take his 
 advice, follow his prescriptions, and he was your 
 fast friend ; but the moment you undertook to set 
 up your judgment against his, and to question his 
 infallibility, that moment he became, if not your foe, 
 no longer your well-wisher. In this he violated,
 
 WHICH MAKES THE MAN? 103 
 
 though unconsciously, one of the foremost obliga 
 tions of the faith which he venerated. 
 
 After indulging in some moral reflections, which 
 seemed a little trite, upon the mutability of human, 
 affairs, Mr. Bloomwell disclosed the immediate 
 object of his visit. 
 
 " I have pleasure, Mr. Henry," said he, " in in 
 forming you that I have secured to you the means 
 of self-support, so that you need not infringe a 
 cent upon the little annuity which should go to 
 the support of your mother and sister." 
 
 The blood mounted a little in Harry's cheek as 
 he replied : " Ah ! to what do you refer ?" 
 
 " Although you have not stayed out your whole 
 term at college, and thereby obtained your degree, 
 I have yet no doubt but that you are fully compe 
 tent to discharge the duties of usher toward the 
 smaller boys in a classical school." 
 
 " But, allow me" 
 
 " Hear me out, Master Henry, if you please, 
 without interruption. I have found precisely the 
 place that will suit you, in my friend Bunder's 
 school in Grand-street. The discharge of the 
 duties will not occupy more than seven hours of 
 your time a day, and you will have every Saturday 
 afternoon to yourself. The salary will be three 
 hundred dollars a year, and, if you give satisfac 
 tion, it will probably be increased when the usher 
 above you goes away. There were several ap 
 plicants for the situation, but the moment Dunder 
 mentioned it to me, I said it would be just the 
 thing for you, and secured it right off. How provi 
 dential, that Dunder happened to speak to me 
 about it !" 
 
 " Indeed, it was very thoughtful on your part,
 
 104 WEALTH AND WORTH J OH, 
 
 sir, to think of my poor boy," said Mrs. Maverick, 
 who was beginning to take her first lessons in hu 
 mility in the strict school of experience. 
 
 Emmeline held back her needle a moment, and 
 looked askance at her brother, to watch the effect 
 of the communication upon him. The least spar 
 kle of a smile played along his lips as he caught 
 her glance. After waiting a moment, to be sure 
 that he should not " interrupt" the officious friend, 
 who was complacently expecting to be overwhelm 
 ed with protestations of gratitude, he replied : 
 
 " I am much obliged to you, Mr. Bloomvvell, for 
 the friendly and spontaneous interest which you 
 seem to have taken in my affairs. I have fully 
 decided, however, upon a course which will de 
 prive me of the pleasure of availing myself of the 
 arrangement you propose." 
 
 " Why, sir, what do you intend to do ?" said the 
 worthy merchant, almost starting from his seat with 
 astonishment. 
 
 " I intend to devote myself to the study of the 
 law." 
 
 " The law ! why, how is this, Mrs. Maverick 1 
 As one of your late husband's principal creditors, 
 I have had opportunities of informing myself thor 
 oughly in regard to your means. They are barely 
 sufficient to feed and clothe you and your daughter 
 with common decency. Pray, how is your son to 
 obtain the expensive education of a lawyer ?" 
 
 " I will tell you, Mr. Bloomwell," said Harry ; 
 " for I believe something better than the motive 
 of a vulgar curiosity prompts your inquiry. I have 
 ascertained that I can pay for my education by 
 copying law-papers." 
 
 " But you ought to support yourself, sir ; and
 
 WHICH MAKES THE MAN? 105 
 
 you cannot do that and make yourself a lawyer at 
 the same time. Come, Master Harry, you will 
 have to come down a little in your notions. It 
 will do very well for young men of expectations 
 to study the law, but you should content yourself 
 with some honest employment by which you can 
 get an immediate living. As third usher, you will 
 receive three hundred dollars, out of which you 
 can lay by a hundred a year for a rainy day. 
 Should you give satisfaction to your employer, and 
 should the second usher die or be turned away, you 
 will, perhaps, be promoted to his place, and get six 
 hundred. The first usher gets twelve hundred. 
 Think of that, sir ! By industry and attention, 
 you may in time get to be first usher. Do not in 
 dulge the foolish notion, Master Henry, that a law 
 yer's employment is more genteel than a school 
 master's. As an usher, you can pay your way, 
 and lay by something. As a student at law, you 
 will be an encumbrance to your family." 
 
 " Do not suppose, Mr. Bloomwell," replied 
 Harry, after a pause, during which, by a severe 
 effort, he subdued the irritability of his nature 
 " do not suppose that I entertain any foolish no 
 tions as to the gentility of this employment or of 
 that. A young man, sir, who does not shrink from 
 going to market in the day-time, and returning 
 through the principal streets with a large basket 
 of provender upon his arm, need not be accused 
 of any such weakness. But my tastes and ca 
 pacities lead me to prefer qualifying myself for a 
 lawyer, to entering upon any other pursuit. Heav 
 en forbid," continued Harry, as he thought of Mr. 
 Wainbridge, "that I should even in thought dis-* 
 parage the teacher's vocation ! It requires, how-
 
 106 WEALTH AND WORTH J OR, 
 
 ever, qualities, moral and intellectual, and, I may 
 add, constitutional, which I do not possess to that 
 degree to inspire me with a confidence in my suc 
 cess. My inclination leads me unwaveringly to 
 the study of the law. I thank you for your offer, 
 but decline it positively." 
 
 " Your inclination will lead you, I dare say, my 
 lad, into a plenty of pretty scrapes. But let no 
 one say that I haven't done my duty by the family. 
 Don't blame rne when you find yourself ruined. 
 Don't say that I didn't do my best to save you." 
 
 Harry bowed ; and Mr. Bloomwell, red with an 
 ger, took up his hat to depart. 
 
 " You have missed a fine chance, sir, of getting 
 a comfortable living," continued Mr. Bloomwell, 
 as he took hold of the handle of the door. "I 
 suppose you will be going round to your father's 
 friends before long with a subscription-paper for 
 your relief. Don't come to me, sir. If you can't 
 take my advice, don't come to me." 
 
 Again Harry bowed, slightly, but respectfully. 
 
 " This isn't the first time I have met with in 
 gratitude," resumed the indignant visiter. " It 
 isn't the first time, sir ; but we shall see the con 
 sequences of your headstrong, self-willed course." 
 
 Harry replied only with another of his frigid 
 bows ; and Mr. Bloomwell, stifling his passion so 
 far as to say, in no very amiable tones, " Good-by, 
 madam !" quitted the house. 
 
 Now Bloomwell, Christian as he thought he 
 was, went away positively inimical to Harry. He 
 would have been gratified if he had heard soon 
 afterward that the young man had been taken up 
 for passing a counterfeit bill. He would then 
 have had the satisfaction of saying " I knew
 
 WHICH MAKES THE MAN ? 107 
 
 just how it would be ; I predicted it !" And the 
 pleasure of the compliment to his penetration 
 would have outweighed the pain that he might 
 otherwise have felt at a fellow-creature's lapse 
 into sin. Oh, Bloomwell ! if thou wouldst only 
 look somewhat more closely into that complicate, 
 badly-regulated little piece of mechanism, thy own 
 heart, thou wouldst see that thou art far from being 
 a saint. 
 
 Another incident, which happened a week or 
 two afterward, showed Henry Maverick, by bitter 
 experience, that integrity of purpose does not al 
 ways ensure immediate favor and success in this 
 world. He had succeeded in finding a lawyer, 
 who, in consideration of his services as a copyist, 
 was willing that he should read law in his office. 
 Harry entered upon the study with assiduity and 
 devotion ; and, though Mr. Twist was rather ex 
 tortionate in his draughts upon the young student's 
 time, yet, as the labors were of a character to ini 
 tiate him in the practical forms of the profession, 
 Harry always fulfilled them with cheerfulness. 
 One day, as he went into Mr. Twist's room to re 
 turn a deed that he had been copying, he found 
 there Mr. Bloomwell and the elder Mr. Hard- 
 worth. Both seemed surprised at his appearance, 
 though neither spoke to him. No sooner had he 
 left the room, however, than Mr. Hardworth, who 
 had been much exasperated, by his son's stories, 
 against Harry, made an unfavorable remark con 
 cerning him to Mr. Twist. Mr. Bloomwell de 
 clared that, from his own experience, he had rea 
 son to believe that Mr. Hardworth was right in 
 his estimate of the young man. Imboldened by 
 this confirmation, Mr. Hardworth told Twist that 
 .9
 
 108 WEALTH AND WORTH J OK, 
 
 he ought not to have such a fellow in his office ; 
 and Twist thereupon'promised that poor Harry 
 should be forthwith dismissed. 
 
 Now Twist did not believe a word of what had 
 been said against the young student. He con 
 sidered Bloomwell to be wanting in common sense, 
 and knew that Hardworth was capable of gratify 
 ing his prejudices at the expense of his honor and 
 honesty. But Bloomwell had just confided a pro 
 fitable case to his hands, and Hardworth had made 
 him his agent in some important transactions. 
 How could he even remotely oflend such capital 
 clients by neglecting their advice ? The thing was 
 not to be thought of ; and so, the next day, Harry 
 was notified that it was no longer convenient to 
 Mr. Twist to have him remain in his office. 
 
 From Twist's own admissions, Harry learned 
 to whom he was indebted for this notification. He 
 felt the injustice of the act, for the lawyer had 
 agreed that he should remain with him at least a 
 year. And now another enemy was made of 
 Twist ! For, be sure, that when a man has done 
 you an injury or an injustice, he is ever afterward 
 your enemy, simply because he knows that you 
 have cause to be his. 
 
 Undismayed by rebuffs like this, Harry sought 
 throughout the city to make an arrangement with 
 some other lawyer, by which he could pay for his 
 education by his services. Some told him that he 
 was too young for the study ; others, after ques 
 tioning him, said they could not think of receiving 
 a young man who had been dismissed by " broth 
 er Twist." 
 
 At length he knocked at a door, upon which 
 was the sign: "LINLEY TRANE, ATTORNEY AND
 
 WHICH MAKES THE MAN ? 109 
 
 COUNSELLOR AT LAV/." A faint " Come in" was 
 the reply to his knock, and entering, he found him 
 self in a room rilled with quite an extensive library 
 of law books, and in the presence of a young man 
 of rather a tall, uncouth figure, who sat in an arm 
 chair with his long legs curled about each other, 
 and his uppermost foot swinging to and fro, while 
 he held a heavy volume upon his knees. The 
 face of the lawyer indicated habits of abstrac 
 tion and study ; for it was " sicklied o'er with the 
 pale cast of thought." His dress was rather rus 
 ty, and his thick red hair looked as if he had the 
 trick of sitting with his fingers run through it in 
 front, while his elbow leaned upon the table. 
 
 " Do I speak to Mr. Trane ?" inquired Harry, 
 respectfully, taking off his hat. 
 
 Mr. Trane swung his foot with rapidly increas 
 ing impetuosity, and looked steadfastly in the ques 
 tioner's face for nearly a minute, as if solving a 
 problem. Then abruptly starting up, and dropping 
 his book upon the floor in the movement, he point 
 ed to a chair, and said, in hurried tones, and with 
 rather a grotesque attempt at ease of mariner, " Sit 
 down sit down, sir." 
 
 Harry obeyed the invitation ; and the lawyer, 
 with a nervous jerk of his body, resumed his seat, 
 replaced his legs in their old position, and recom 
 menced the oscillating motion of the uppermost 
 one, which reminded Harry, by the looseness with 
 which it swung, of the hammer of a flail, fastened 
 by a thong of leather to the handle. After a brief 
 silence, Mr. Trane stammered forth, with a blush 
 ing face : " Did you wish to speak with me, 
 sir ?" 
 
 " Here is a rare bird !" thought Harry " a diffi- 
 10
 
 110 WEALTH AND WORTH; OR, 
 
 dent lawyer ! Is it possible ?" There was something 
 in the man's face, however, which inspired the ob 
 server with respect; intelligence, mingled with a 
 child-like simplicity, meekness with intellectual 
 vigor. 
 
 " I have come," said Harry, " to inquire if your 
 business is such that I could be of any service 
 to you as a copyist. I do not ask a remuneration 
 in money, but merely wish the privilege of read 
 ing law under your supervision." 
 
 " Business !" stammered forth Mr. Trane ; " O, 
 yes plenty of business that is no, not alto 
 gether but hope to have writs to fill, and copy 
 ing enough too much work for you ought to 
 have a good salary times may get better ; but" 
 
 And here the lawyer came to a full stop and 
 blushed. 
 
 " I see," said Harry, rising, " you think you can 
 not afford to take me without the customary fees ; 
 that the state of your business is not such as to 
 warrant it." 
 
 " Bless you, no, sit down, sit down," replied 
 Mr. Trane, swinging his leg with unparalleled 
 vigor and celerity. "I didn't mean" 
 
 " Well ?" 
 
 " Pray let me serve you, if I can." 
 
 There was a sincerity, a tenderness in the tone, 
 with which the bashful lawyer uttered these sim 
 ple words, that went to Harry's heart. They 
 formed the first kind greeting that he had encoun 
 tered in his rounds that day ; and passing his hand 
 hastily across his eyes, he laid down his hat, and 
 again seated himself. The lawyer witnessed his 
 emotion, and was painfully embarrassed by it. 
 The swinging leg did yeoman's service for a mo-
 
 WHICH MAKES THE MAN? Ill 
 
 ment or two, until Harry, taking pity upon the 
 agitation of its owner, broke silence. He told his 
 whole history plainly but eloquently, with a mi 
 nuteness which seemed to excite intense interest 
 in the mind of his listener. The swinging leg be 
 came as still as if paralyzed. The head was 
 bent forward, in an attitude of the closest atten 
 tion. The eyes rilled with tears ; and at the con 
 clusion of the narrative, Mr. Trane abruptly rose, 
 grasped his young visitor's hand, and shook it vio 
 lently up and down as if he had hold of a pump- 
 handle. His diffidence melted before the genial 
 warmth of his heart, like a snow-wreath in the 
 sun ; and he exclaimed : 
 
 " How rejoiced I am you happened in here ! 
 Not many clients, but plenty of books ! Jolly times 
 we will have among them ! Don't know a soul in 
 this great city am all-fired glad to see you have 
 had my shingle up six months, and but one client 
 all that time an old woman : she came to inquire 
 where Lawyer Hall's office was. Give us your 
 hand again." 
 
 Trane's story may be briefly told. He came to 
 New York from a small village in Connecticut. 
 Being entirely self-educated, and somewhat more 
 ignorant of the world and its usages than a clever 
 city lad of seven years of age, he found himself, 
 to use a familiar phrase, like a cat in a strange 
 garret. His external intercourse had, all his life, 
 been with the plain, honest rustics of his native 
 village, and he knew no other phraseology than 
 theirs, for the purposes of ordinary conversation. 
 But, living among his books the greater part of his 
 time, he could at will retire into a society where 
 high thoughts were moulded into felicitous Ian-
 
 112 WEALTH AND WORTH; OR, 
 
 guage, and where rusticity was unknown. Give 
 him a pen, and he could converse like a Chester 
 field. To judge him from his spoken language, 
 you would say that he was ignorant of the com 
 monest rules of grammar, as well as of polished 
 life. He had devoted himself for more than ten 
 years to the study of the law, having pursued it 
 rather with the enthusiasm of a lover, than with 
 the practical purposes of a tradesman. Having 
 inherited an humble patrimony, he spent nearly the 
 whole of it in the purchase of a library ; and, 
 finally, mustering his courage, he removed to New 
 York, and was admitted to the bar. He seemed 
 constitutionally unfitted, however, for the active 
 business of his profession. He could hardly look 
 a strange client in the face ; and though armed 
 with precedents upon every point of law, and pos 
 sessing far more learning than half of the judges 
 on the bench, his unconquerable bashfulness whol 
 ly incapacitated him as an advocate. The pertest 
 pettifogger could abash and confound him ; for it 
 is easy enough for a fool to ask more questions in 
 a minute, than a wise man can answer in a life 
 time. 
 
 Such was the individual under whose direction 
 Henry Maverick now undertook the study of the 
 law. With so competent an instructer, he made a 
 thorough and rapid progress, becoming soon so 
 deeply interested as to endanger his health by a 
 too constant application. On he went, boldly and 
 steadily, turning neither to the right hand nor to 
 the left. 
 
 At home, affairs were managed with tolerable 
 success. Mrs. Maverick's want of skill in finan 
 ciering, and her confused notions of domestic
 
 WHICH MAKES THE MAN ? 
 
 113 
 
 economy, occasionally involved the family in em 
 barrassments ; but Emmeline soon took the lead 
 in household matters, and proved herself a frugal 
 and discreet manager. In her leisure moments 
 she executed embroidery-work for upholsterers, 
 for which she received small sums. Mingo, who 
 had served all his life as a groom, was found 
 to be of little use in any employments within 
 doors. He was finally so far instructed, however, 
 as to relieve Harry of the trouble of doing the 
 marketing. The most laborious part of the old 
 negro's duties consisted in protecting Hotspur from 
 the dog-killers.
 
 114 WEALTH AND WORTH; OR, 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 u Oh, never despair ! for our hopes oftentimes 
 Spring as swiftly as flowers in the tropical climes, 
 Where the spot that was barren and herbless by night, 
 Is waving with bloom in the mom's rosy light." 
 
 SAMUEL LOVER. 
 
 THREE years have passed since the occurrence 
 of the scenes described in our last chapter. And 
 where now is Henry Maverick ? It is a cold and 
 gusty day in winter. The snow is falling fast. 
 It whirls through the streets, and forms around 
 the corners in cone-like heaps ; and then it is 
 tossed aloft by the eddying winds, and sifted, till 
 its fine frozen particles feel like needles as they 
 sweep in the face of the passer-by. 
 
 Notwithstanding the inclemency of the weather, 
 the city seems all astir. The shops are closed as 
 if it were some great holyday. Merry groups of 
 young men are buffeting the wind and the snow 
 on every side. They go from house to house, 
 ring the bell, enter, remain two or three minutes, 
 sip, perhaps, a glass of wine, and then issue forth 
 to pass through the same rapid ceremony else 
 where. Some are in carriages, and some in dash 
 ing phaetons. The ground is not yet quite fit for 
 sleighing. From the highest to the humblest, all 
 seem to be on pleasurable movements intent ; and 
 the very fierceness of the blast and the blinding 
 rush of the snow seem but to furnish additional 
 subjects for hilarity and unchecked mirth.
 
 WHICH MAKES THE MAN? 115 
 
 It is the first of January, and all the male por 
 tion of the population of the city are paying visits. 
 On this day, if there have been estrangements 
 among families and friends, coldness or misunder 
 standing, an opportunity is afforded for reconcili 
 ation and the renewal of old ties. It is a day of 
 privilege ; a day when even misery must look up 
 and smile, and poverty have good cheer. The 
 custom is a pleasant one ; but it seems to be con 
 fined to New York and Washington, among our 
 American cities. Why is it not more generally 
 adopted ? 
 
 Said I that all are looking gay and happy on 
 this occasion ? Nay ; there is one, a young man, 
 who, as he breasts the keen blast, and tightens 
 around him the folds of his old cloak, seems, if 
 we may judge from his pale and anxious face, far 
 from being on the way to make a visit of pleasure. 
 Occasionally his lips move, as if pantomiming the 
 utterance of some distressing thought ; and then 
 he throws open his cloak, as if the chilling wind 
 were grateful to a breast which felt the hot war 
 fare of griefs within. The passers-by do not no 
 tice him, for the snow falls thick, and they are 
 occupied with their own gladdening anticipations ; 
 but, had a humane man observed his fine features, 
 upon which the struggle of a great sorrow was re 
 flected, I hope he would have been incited to in 
 quire into the cause of the youth's affliction, with 
 the purpose of alleviating it if in his power. 
 
 Crossing the Bowery from the direction of 
 Broadway, the youth passed on through a street, 
 in which the houses were small and dingy. But 
 even here the festivities of the anniversary seem 
 ed to be faithfully observed. Hale-looking laborers,
 
 116 WEALTH AND WORTH; OR, 
 
 young mechanics, and apprentices were hurrying 
 from door to door ; and, at the windows, might 
 be seen now and then bright eyes shining through 
 the dimming snow-flakes, the fair owners of which 
 were evidently laughing at the busy movements 
 of the lords of creation upon that stormy day. 
 Arriving at length before one of the humblest 
 domicils in the street, our pedestrian stopped a 
 moment, shook the snow from his cloak, and 
 knocked it from his feet, and then, rapping gently 
 at the door, turned and looked up through the 
 fleecy atmosphere as if he would seek for some 
 last sign of hope in the freighted clouds that rolled 
 overhead. 
 
 The door was soon opened by a female hand, 
 and entering, he suffered himself to be disencum 
 bered of his cloak and hat by the attendant. He 
 then passed into a small room, whither she fol 
 lowed. A few thin pine sticks upon the hearth 
 appeared to have been just kindled into a blaze, 
 for the room was cold and damp. The young man, 
 however, did not seem to regard this, for he sank 
 into a chair in a corner of the room distant from 
 the fire, and leaning his elbows upon a painted 
 pine table, which formed one of the most impor 
 tant articles of furniture in the apartment, dropped 
 his forehead upon his hands and was still. The 
 female who had entered was young, not more than 
 sixteen, apparently. She was dressed in a dark 
 calico gown, without ornaments of any kind. Her 
 hair, which was of a rich brown, was plainly part 
 ed and drawn up behind, displaying a small but 
 finely-shaped head, with features delicate, but 
 strongly and beautifully outlined, dark eyes, full 
 of a deep and earnest expression, and a complex-
 
 WHICH MAKES THE MAN 1 117 
 
 ion unblemished and pure, though, for the moment, 
 a little pale. Her figure was not above the ordina 
 ry height, slim, but not wanting the developments 
 of health and grace. 
 
 Placing a chair before the fire, she moved to 
 ward the table, and gently displacing the hands 
 of the young man from his forehead, led him to 
 the seat she had prepared. 
 
 " Your hair is wet, Harry, and your collar. 
 There are snow-flakes yet on your neck. I will 
 get a brush and a napkin. You have exposed 
 yourself too much." 
 
 And so saying, the maiden tripped out of the 
 room, and immediately returning, brushed the drops 
 from his thick locks, and wiped dry his cheeks 
 and neck. Then, with an arm thrown round his 
 shoulders, she looked a moment in his face, and, 
 with her soft fingers putting back the heavy moist 
 curls from his forehead, kissed him, and said : 
 
 " What is the matter, Harry ? has anything hap 
 pened ?" 
 
 " I have met with no success," replied Henry 
 Maverick : " the pawnbrokers' shops are all closed. 
 How is mother ?" 
 
 " Decidedly better. The fever is decreasing ; 
 and I left her in a mild sleep." 
 
 " Get your thick shawl, my dear, and wrap round 
 you, and I will talk with you. It is chilly." 
 
 Emmeline obeyed ; and kneeling with one hand 
 upon her brother's knee, while with the other she 
 replaced, from time to time, the scanty brands as 
 they fell upon the hearth, she gave him her atten 
 tion. 
 
 " I have not yet told you, Emmeline, of my ad 
 ventures yesterday. Well ! I called first on old
 
 118 WEALTH AND WORTH; OR, 
 
 Van Rapp at his counting-room. For, seeing it 
 stated in the newspapers that he had given two 
 hundred dollars the week before to Madame Ca- 
 rolli, the famous Italian cantatrice, for singing a 
 couple of songs at his last great party, I foolishly 
 imagined that he might be generous in other things. 
 Besides, Van Rapp had known our father, and was, 
 as you remember, at the fete which we had at Ea 
 gles wood on my fourteenth birth-day. After wait 
 ing for nearly an hour, I obtained an audience. 
 He did not recognise me until I told my name, and 
 then he did not seem much pleased at the recog 
 nition. I briefly told him what I wanted, which 
 was, that he should lend me two hundred dollars 
 upon my acceptance and promise to repay with 
 interest, the moment I had the ability. I informed 
 him of our losses by the fire last year of my want 
 of success in obtaining a profitable employment, 
 compatible with my studies, and finally, of mother's 
 illness. On looking up, after narrating these things, 
 I found him reading a newspaper with his eye 
 glass. Without saying a word he went to his desk, 
 took out two half-eagles, and pushing them toward 
 me, said : ' There, young man ! it is a very sad 
 case, no doubt ; but that is the best I can do for 
 you.' I did not fling them in his face, Emmeline. 
 Nay and I blush as I think of it so far did a 
 consciousness of our necessities constrain me, 
 that I said : ' You will allow me to give my ac 
 ceptance for this sum ?' He replied, in a surly 
 tone : ' Humbug! I want none of your accept 
 ances.' ' Then I want none of your money,' I 
 said, and left the counting-room. As I stood at 
 the top of the stairs, pressing my forehead to re 
 call where I had intended to go next, I heard this
 
 WHICH MAKES THE MAN? 119 
 
 man of wealth say : ' Ten dollars saved, is ten 
 dollars earned. I hear that boy of Maverick's is 
 a worthless young dog, proud and lazy as an In 
 dian in harvest-time. We shall hear of him in 
 some bad scrape yet, for he looked me in the eye 
 as if ' I did not listen to the conclusion, but dart 
 ed into the street." 
 
 " And on whom, brother, did you call next ?" 
 " You will be surprised td hear. I called on 
 Mr. Bloomwell. I remembered his exhibition of 
 anger at the time I declined taking his advice in 
 regard to the ushership at Mr. Dunder's school, 
 but I believed him to be a conscientious and pious 
 man, and that he would, from principle, if not from 
 inclination, forgive me for disappointing him in the 
 arrangement he had then made for me. As I en 
 tered his counting-room, he looked up from the 
 desk at which he was writing, and I fancied that I 
 .saw a gleam of satisfaction flit across his face, as, 
 laying down his pen, he said : ' Mr. Maverick, I 
 believe ?' I bowed, and, drawing near, began to 
 communicate the request I had made to Van Rapp. 
 As the object of my visit dawned upon him, Bloom- 
 well fairly rubbed his hands with exultation, and 
 when I concluded, he rose, and pacing the room, 
 exclaimed : 'I knew it would come to this at last! 
 I knew it ! Didn't I predict it ? Aren't you re 
 penting in sackcloth and ashes not having taken 
 my advice ? Look here, Craig, and you, Thomas, 
 and you, Peter,' continued he, addressing an old 
 clerk and two younger ones : ' Now, Mr. Maver 
 ick, have the goodness to tell, for the benefit of 
 these young men, what I advised you three years 
 ago, and how everything has turned out as I said 
 it would, from your not taking my advice.' ' I will
 
 120 WEALTH AND WORTH ; OR, 
 
 bid you a very good morning, Mr. Bloomwell,' said 
 I, folding my cloak about me with a Cato-like air, 
 and leaving the room, without waiting to see the 
 effect of my remark. Notwithstanding the bitter 
 sense of poverty, I could not but smile at the old 
 gentleman's eagerness to claim prophetic honors." 
 
 " He wanted to hold you up in the light of a 
 culprit, Harry. I think you treated him as you 
 ought to have done. What followed ?" 
 
 " I went to the west end of the town, with the 
 intention of calling on Mrs. Sumpter, who used 
 once to try to persuade me that I was a great fa 
 vorite of hers. When I was in the city just be 
 fore commencing my studies at Cambridge, she 
 would manage to make me appear in Broadway 
 with Marian Sumpter almost every day. Well : 
 I reached the steps of her splendid mansion. My 
 heart failed me as I thought upon my object. Ah, 
 Emmeline ! it is a bitter, bitter thing to ask a fa 
 vor, where you are not sure that it will be granted. 
 As I stood endeavoring to reconcile myself to the 
 task, a carriage stopped before the door, and the 
 steps being let down by a footman, a young man 
 of foreign aspect, with enormous moustaches, and 
 a muff daintily strung on one wrist, issued from 
 the interior and handed out a lady. The young man 
 was Augustus Ermine, and the lady my old friend 
 Marian. They are probably engaged. This trifling 
 circumstance decided me against calling ; and the 
 best of the day being wasted, I returned home. 
 Emmeline ! slightly as I have hurried over these 
 little incidents, they have made me older than 
 years of ordinary life could do. I cannot, cannot 
 beg ! I would rather die. A stifling, choking sen 
 sation comes over me as I attempt the utterance
 
 WHICH MAKES THE MAN ? 121 
 
 of importunity. My heart sickens. My head 
 whirls ; and I feel as though I should go mad. 
 And yet this life of penury ! These sad priva 
 tions ! This cold hearth ! The small duns that 
 beset our door ! Torture !" 
 
 " Nay, Harry, dear, dear brother ! all will yet be 
 well. You shall not be any more subjected to 
 these humiliations. If they be necessary, it shall 
 be for me to bear them. Are all our resources at 
 an end ? Does Mr. Trane know your wants ? 
 Have you consulted with him ?" 
 
 " With him ? Poor fellow ! He lives upon a 
 ship-biscuit and a bowl of milk a day ; sleeps on 
 the sofa in his office ; and wears the clothes which 
 were made for him in Connecticut ten years ago, 
 when he was a foot shorter. He has had but 
 three clients since I have been with him now 
 more than three years and to those he lent 
 money, after giving them legal advice gratuitously. 
 Were I to mention my necessities to him, I verily 
 believe he would sell even his books to aid me, 
 though parting with them would break his heart. 
 No ! I cannot intimate a suspicion of my wants to 
 him. Try again, Emmeline." 
 
 " Do you remember, the day we left Eagles- 
 wood, your telling me" 
 
 " Hark ! There is a rap at the door. It must 
 be that unhappy-looking apothecary's boy with his 
 bill again. He will be the death of me. I could 
 once look boldly in the face of any man, whether 
 prince or peasant. Now I am abashed before a 
 sickly boy. He raps again. Go, Emmeline, and 
 tell him No, no ! Do not treat him with unkind- 
 
 jss poor lad ! it is his vocation. And melan- 
 sly enough it must be to be sent out in such 
 11
 
 122 WEALTH AND WORTH J OR, 
 
 weather on so forlorn an errand we may spare 
 him our harsh words !" 
 
 Before Harry had finished giving vent to these 
 gloomy anticipations, Emmeline had opened the 
 door. A ruddy-cheeked little girl, comfortably 
 clad, thrust in her head, which was almost hidden 
 in a thick black hood, well powdered with snow, 
 and presenting Emmeline a light packet, carefully 
 enclosed in paper, and neatly pinned, exclaimed : 
 " O, Miss Emmeline, I wish you a happy new year. 
 Here's something for you." 
 
 " Is it you, Susan Dale ? A happy new year, 
 my dear. Come in, and" Emmeline would have 
 added " dry your feet," but a regard to veracity 
 compelled her to cut short her invitation, as she 
 looked in at the dying embers on the hearth. 
 
 " Oh, no, Miss Emmeline not now. Such fun 
 as we are having at our house ! Uncle Moses has 
 come. He is a gardener, and brought those flow 
 ers from his hot-house to mother ; and says she, 
 I'll send them to Miss Emmeline, who is so fond 
 of them, and who taught Sue the pretty songs she 
 sings ; and, says she, Sue, tell Miss Emmeline I 
 shall be proud and happy to see her over here, for 
 I know she makes allowances for plain folks. And, 
 says uncle Moses, Run, Sue, and be back before I 
 can kiss you twice. And here I am, Miss Emme 
 line ; and now you must come along with me. 
 Such lots of lemonade and cake ! O my !" 
 
 With such velocity did the little creature de 
 liver her message, that she was quite out of breath 
 at the close. Emmeline stooped down, kissed her 
 fresh, cool cheek, and telling her to thank mamma 
 and Uncle Moses for the bouquet, and to express 
 her regret that she could not come over, she open-
 
 WHICH MAKES THE MAN ? 123 
 
 ed the door for her, and saw her spring off into 
 the snow and run home like a young antelope. 
 
 " Does this look like anything from an apothe 
 cary's shop, brother ?" said Emmeline, as she re 
 moved the paper, and disclosed a rare collection of 
 hot-house flowers. " What a beautiful japonica! 
 And the roses, and the geranium, how fragrant ! 
 And here are laurel, and laurustinus, and orange- 
 blossoms, and myrtle, and eglantine is it not a 
 sweet new year's present from little Susan a 
 present of good omen ?" 
 
 They were the first that Emmeline had seen for 
 long, long months, and as she gazed on them with 
 a little of her old girlish delight, and remembered 
 the happy hours she used to spend in the green 
 house at Eagleswood, something very like a tear 
 glistened in her eye ; but it sprang from tender 
 ness rather than from regret. 
 
 " They will freeze and wither in this cold room, 
 Emmeline. How the snow sifts against the win 
 dow-sills !" 
 
 " I will take them up stairs into mother's cham 
 ber. They are so fresh they must be wholesome. 
 She loves flowers." And so saying, Emmeline quit 
 ted the apartment, but soon returned, and said : 
 " She is sleeping tranquilly, and seems much bet 
 ter than she was yesterday. Sally is with her. 
 To come back to what we were talking about, 
 Harry. Have you forgotten the offer of the hon 
 est butcher, who" 
 
 " Another knock ! That must certainly be the 
 apothecary's boy. I thought he would come at last." 
 
 " A wager it is not the apothecary's boy," said 
 Emmeline, as she ran to open the front door. 
 
 She was right in her anticipation. But who
 
 124 WEALTH AND WORTH; OR, 
 
 may these visitors be 1 One is a stout, round- 
 faced yeoman, wearing a thick blanket-cloth sur- 
 tout, with big pearl buttons ; and the other is a 
 well-grown lad, dressed in much the same style, 
 and formed after much the same model. They 
 are Sim Lewis, the butcher, and his son John. 
 
 " Perhaps you don't remember me, Miss Mav 
 erick," said Sim ; " but I can recollect you from 
 the time you were so high. I am Sim Lewis, 
 that used to bring meat to Eagleswood, and this 
 is John Lewis, my son." 
 
 Turning round as he concluded this speech, 
 Sim saw, much to his indignation, that John, with 
 his hat still on, was staring as if bewildered at 
 Miss Maverick. Taking him by the ear, the father 
 exclaimed : " John Lewis ! when will you learn 
 manners, John Lewis ? Pick up your hat, John 
 Lewis. A green lad, miss, but he has never seen 
 much of city life. And how is Mister Henry ? 
 And how's your ma'am ?" 
 
 Emmeline was moved to an almost superstitious 
 surprise at this encounter. She had just been 
 upon the point of reminding Harry of the worthy 
 butcher's offer of assistance on their leaving Ea 
 gleswood. And before she had fully given utter 
 ance to the thought, the very man, whom she had 
 not seen for more than three years, stood before 
 her ! Pointing to some nails, whereon they might 
 hang their wet outside garments, she threw open 
 the parlor door, and said : " Brother Harry, here 
 is our old friend Lewis, with his son." 
 
 " Master Harry, it is good for sore eyes to see 
 you again," said Sim, advancing to receive Harry's 
 cordial greeting ; " this is John Lewis, my son 
 my son, John Lewis can't you shake hands, John
 
 WHICH MAKES THE MAN ? 125 
 
 Lewis 1 A little awkward, Mister Maverick, but 
 he will mend. Smooth down your hair, John Lew 
 is." 
 
 " How did you find out where we lived, my 
 good friend ?" asked Harry. 
 
 " Why, whom should I meet at the stable, 
 round in Madison-street, but old Mingo, with Hot 
 spur. Says I, General, you are just the man I 
 want to see, for hang me if I haven't tried to find 
 out where your old master's family are living, 
 every time I have been in New York for the last 
 three years, and you're the first man I've met that 
 can tell me. And so Mingo showed me and John 
 Lewis the way here, and here we are." 
 
 At this point of the conversation, Sim appeared 
 to be suddenly struck with some peculiarity either 
 in the atmosphere of the room, or the appearance 
 of his friends ; for he started up, looked at the few 
 fast fading coals upon the hearth, then at Emme- 
 line's shawl ; then drew his hand across his eyes ; 
 then thrust both hands into his pockets, as if wish 
 ing to do something, but perplexed as to the man 
 ner of doing it. Finally, ejaculating " John Lew 
 is !" he led the way toward the door into the en 
 try. John Lewis followed. A deal of whisper 
 ing was heard, and then the front door opened 
 and closed, and Sim re-entered the parlor alone. 
 
 " Now, Mr. Henry," said he, " let's attend to a 
 little bit of business, which we will soon get off 
 our minds. It's only putting your signature to 
 this slip of paper." 
 
 Harry read as follows : 
 
 " $250 New York, Jan. 1st, 183 
 
 " For value received, I promise to pay Simeon 
 11*
 
 126 WEALTH AND WORTH ; OR, 
 
 Lewis or order the sum of two hundred and fifty 
 dollars, as soon as convenient." 
 
 Harry, for a full minute, could only reply to 
 this delicate piece of generosity by covering his 
 eyes, and remaining silent. 
 
 " Come, come, Mister Henry," said Sim ; " it 
 is no great affair after all, and I am pretty sure I 
 shall be the gainer in the end ; so you see it is a 
 bit of a speculation on my part selfishness, pure 
 selfishness note-shaving and all that sort of thing. 
 You see I don't want to have my money lying idle, 
 and so ha, ha, ha! isn't it so, Miss Emmeline ?" 
 And Sim very strangely concluded his jocularity, 
 by taking out his great calico pocket handkerchief, 
 and wiping his eyes. 
 
 " Lewis, I accept your generous proffer," said 
 Harry ; " for I confidently anticipate being able 
 to repay the loan ; but the kindness, the generosi 
 ty, which prompted it they cannot be repaid by 
 gold. The only coin which can be returned for 
 them is gratitude, respect, affection, and these are 
 yours already. We are truly in extreme need, as 
 you seem to be aware. Last winter we lost by 
 fire all our furniture, and some articles of jewellery, 
 to which we had looked forward as a resort in a 
 moment of exigence. Long before that, we had 
 been obliged to break in upon the little capital 
 which had been invested for us. Three or four 
 months since, our mother was taken seriously ill, 
 and we have paid heavy doctor's bills for her 
 treatment. Gradually our resources have failed, 
 until yesterday, after paying the rent that was due 
 for the last quarter, I found our funds so low, that 
 I was obliged to suffer a load of wood to be earn-
 
 WHICH MAKES THE MAN? 127 
 
 ed away after I had ordered it, because I was un 
 able to pay for it in cash. Well, Lewis ; I thought 
 I would call upon some of the rich gentlemen, 
 whom, in our prosperity, we thought friends, and 
 ask them to loan me a hundred or two dollars upon 
 my note. I called on two, for whom I knew my 
 father had often raised thousands of dollars at a 
 time, and made known my request. You have 
 anticipated the result. Yes ; one of them refused 
 me, and the other was impertinent. But how glad 
 I am to be under obligations to you rather than to 
 them! Ah, Lewis ! Worth is better than wealth 
 ay, and richer it feels richer, and does more gen 
 erous deeds. Next month, Lewis, I shall be ad 
 mitted to practise at the bar, and then I hope to 
 begin to make a living." 
 
 " Never worry about this little matter," said 
 Sim, handing over a roll of bills ; " there's a plen 
 ty more of the same kind in the Butchers' and 
 Drovers' ! Take your leisure as to paying it back. 
 The longer the interest runs on, the better for 
 me." 
 
 Harry signed the note, and, as he did so, re 
 marked : " But, tell me, Lewis, how you happen 
 ed to find out that we were in want. Did Mingo 
 tell you ?" 
 
 " Far from it. The fact is, there's a clerk of 
 old Bloomwell's at the house where I'm stopping, 
 and, as I have made it a point to inquire of your 
 whereabouts of everybody I met, I happened to 
 ask him last night if he knew you, and he told me 
 about the scene in the counting-room ; and then, 
 as luck would have it, this morning I met the gen 
 eral. But where's John Lewis ? By the way, 
 Mr. Harry, John Lewis is to open a provision-store
 
 128 WEALTH AND WORTH ; OR, 
 
 round the corner next week, and you must do me 
 the favor to buy your feed of him. He can charge 
 it all to my account, you know, and we can settle 
 for it three or four years hence." 
 
 " Lewis, you are placing me under endless ob 
 ligations." 
 
 " Oh, no no such thing ! Besides, what if I 
 am ? A'n't I the gainer ? But here comes John 
 Lewis !" 
 
 Looking out of the window, Harry saw a large 
 hand-sled, pulled by a man, followed by John 
 Lewis, stop before the door. It was filled with 
 wood, nicely split, which, under the direction of 
 John Lewis, was soon transferred to the little dark 
 closet under the entry stairs. Harry and Emme- 
 line could only look at each other and then at the 
 worthy butcher ; and, as they did so, the eyes of 
 all three filled with tears, which told for two of 
 them more eloquent thanks than all the fine phrases 
 which language could frame. As for Sim, he al 
 most blubbered, although he tried to make it ap 
 pear as if he were laughing all the while ; order 
 ing about John Lewis, and occasionally cuffing 
 him to give vent to his surplus emotion. 
 
 A merry, bright fire was soon blazing on the 
 hearth, imparting an aspect of rare cheerfulness 
 to the little room the more grateful because of 
 the snow-storm without. Emmeline went up stairs 
 to see how her mother was, and returned with the 
 agreeable news that she had waked up, and was 
 wonderfully better, and had insisted that her 
 daughter should go down in the parlor to enter 
 tain their friends. The small party drew up their 
 chairs around the cheerful blaze. 
 
 >' And how are all the good people of the vil-
 
 WHICH MAKES THE MAN? 129 
 
 lage, Lewis ?" asked Harry. " How is Mr. Wain- 
 bridge ? and how is Ralph Armstrong ?" 
 
 " Why, Mr. Wainbridge, I'm afraid, is but poor 
 ly, sir. They say he has heard from England of 
 his wife's having married an English lord, and of 
 his daughter's being sent to France to a convent. 
 He sent out by one of the steamships last summer 
 a thousand dollars, which he had saved to get his 
 family over to this country, but little good has it 
 done, for he has heard nothing about it since, until 
 the other day the news came that the money had 
 been accepted, but that the woman was to be mar 
 ried again." 
 
 " Poor Wainbridge ! I fear the sad news will 
 unman him quite ; but I hope it will prove untrue. 
 It must be untrue, if his wife is the woman he has 
 described to me," said Harry. 
 
 " Oh, I have no doubt it is untrue," added Em- 
 meline. 
 
 " He is very anxious to go out to England to 
 inquire into the state of things, I believe," added 
 Lewis ; " but he hasn't the means quite yet. His 
 scholars have dropped off one by one, and he 
 finds money come in slowly. The poor man's 
 health seems to be giving way under his anxiety." 
 
 " How I wish that I could assist him !" sighed 
 Emmeline. 
 
 " As for Ralph Armstrong," resumed Lewis, 
 " he has got a place on the Mohawk and Hudson 
 railroad. He attends to the locomotives cleans 
 them out and tinkers them when they want 
 mending." 
 
 " Ralph deserves a better place, and he will 
 have it yet, I do not doubt, as soon as his employ 
 ers find out his talents," said Harry.
 
 130 WEALTH AND WORTH ; OR, 
 
 "Mary Brudenel is she well?" asked Emme- 
 line. 
 
 " Yes, and as pretty as ever," answered Sim. 
 "They do say that poor Ralph is over head and 
 ears in love with her, but I am thinking he aims 
 too high." 
 
 " A young man of Ralph's worth cannot aim too 
 high," said Harry. 
 
 " And how do the Hardworths get on at Eagles- 
 wood ?" inquired Emmeline. 
 
 " Oh, very fast indeed," replied Lewis, laugh 
 ing : " Master Ravenstone, having nothing else to 
 do, has managed to quarrel with almost everybody 
 in the village, and as ma' and pa' take his part, there 
 is not much love felt for any of them. You re 
 member the old summer-house just back of the 
 new one ? Well : he has covered the floor with 
 tanners' bark, and turned it into a cock-pit ; and 
 such a set of rowdies, with long hair plastered 
 over the left eye, and big whiskers, as he brings 
 up with him every week from the city, you never 
 saw at a race-course. One of them a count Fid 
 dle Faddle, or some such name is said to be go 
 ing to marry Miss Arabella. He wears curls down 
 his neck like a woman, and a tuft on his chin ; 
 and looks to me just like that fellow who was tried 
 last year for forgery, and sent to Sing-Sing." 
 
 As Harry was musing upon the news that Lew 
 is had been communicating, another knock was 
 heard at the door. 
 
 " Is that the apothecary's boy, think you ?" 
 asked Emmeline, archly. 
 
 " If it be, pray ask him in to warm himself," 
 said Harry, smiling ; " for, thanks to Lewis, I can.
 
 WHICH MAKES THE MAN 1 131 
 
 now not only pay the lad his bill, but give him a 
 shilling for his trouble." 
 
 The door was opened, and a young man, who 
 was not the apothecary's boy, inquired for Mr. 
 Henry Maverick. 
 
 " Walk in, sir my brother is in the parlor let 
 me take your cloak," said Emmeline, who had 
 never before seen the visiter. 
 
 The young stranger bent a quick-scanning gaze 
 upon her, and started, much as Benjamin West 
 might have done, when he first saw the statue of 
 the Apollo. There was something professional in 
 his rapid but admiring survey of her face and 
 figure. 
 
 " Do not trouble yourself, Miss Maverick. Let 
 my cloak and cap lie here. What a snow-storm !" 
 
 Emmeline threw open the parlor door ; and 
 another guest was added to the circle.
 
 132 WEALTH AND WORTH ; OR, 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 " Make fast the doom ; heap wood upon the fire ; 
 Draw in your stools, and pass the goblet round ; 
 And be the prattling voice of children heard. 
 Now let us make good cheer." 
 
 HENRY TA.YLOB. 
 
 THE new comer was a youth, who, to judge 
 from his appearance, had not seen more than 
 eighteen winters. His clothes were homely in 
 their fabric, but he seemed to wear them with a 
 nameless grace. In stature he was slightly be 
 low the ordinary height, and compactly and sym 
 metrically framed. His features had that charm, 
 which springs from intelligence and frankness ; 
 and their outline, though not so healthfully filled 
 out as it had been and might be again, was, if not 
 handsome, marked with character and spirit. 
 
 "You have forgotten me, Mr. Maverick?" said 
 the youth, advancing and extending his hand. 
 
 " Indeed, I cannot at this moment recall where 
 or when I have seen you ; but you are welcome 
 nevertheless." 
 
 " Have I then altered so much in four years V 
 
 " Ah ! now you turn to the light, I trace a famil 
 iar cast of features. But it was a lady, to whom 
 excuse my dulness. It is Theodore Clare !" 
 
 " The same." 
 
 " You are heartily welcome. This, Theodore, 
 is my sister ; a clever girl enough, named Emme-
 
 WHICH MAKES THE MAN? 133 
 
 line and this is my friend, Mr. Lewis and this, 
 Mr. Lewis junior." 
 
 Emmeline did not refuse the hand that was 
 eagerly proffered by the youth, in ratification of 
 the acquaintance. 
 
 It is a habit, peculiar to Americans, to shake 
 hands when they are introduced ; and Sim Lewis 
 was always forward to do honor to a national cus 
 tom. " Servant, sir happy to know you," said 
 he, extending what he was wont to call his " flip 
 per," and grasping Theodore's hand till it felt as 
 if squeezed in a vice. Fearing that the habit might 
 run in the family, and that Mr. Lewis junior might 
 give him an equally hard grip, Theodore was care 
 ful to get the advantage of an outside hold, and 
 then shook hands with an energy which made 
 Mr. John Lewis, in spite of his tough muscles, 
 wince and bend with the pressure. 
 
 " How you have grown since I saw you, Theo 
 dore ! I should not have known you except 
 through your likeness to your sister." 
 
 Why did a slight, internal sigh, imperceptible 
 to all but himself, rise from Harry's breast as he 
 uttered this allusion ? He had passed hardly two 
 days, in his life, with the Clares had not seen 
 Ellen more than three or four different times and 
 had not heard of the family for more than three 
 years. But now, all intervening memories, whether 
 dark or bright, rolled up out of sight, like a vapor 
 ous curtain, and disclosed vividly to his spiritual 
 eyes the little cottage at Capeville, standing in 
 the light of a fresh summer morning the green 
 fields and the waving trees and Ellen Clare, with 
 the plaid scarf about her shoulders, and the sim 
 ple straw bonnet falling back from her head, and 
 12
 
 134 WEALTH AXD AVORTH J OR, 
 
 in her hand the basket of strawberries which she 
 had been gathering. Then he saw her in another 
 mood. He recalled the circumstances of his last 
 visit to her home the arrival of the messenger 
 with sad news the hasty and melancholy fare 
 well to the family and Ellen's last glance of 
 sympathy, regret, and might he add, a still ten 
 derer emotion ? No ! It was insane vanity to at 
 tribute it to her. How full of maiden propriety, 
 dignity, and hospitality had been her demeanor ! 
 
 ' Your mother and Edwin are well, I hope ?" 
 continued Harry. " And Ellen she, I suppose, 
 is married by this time ?" 
 
 Harry's smile, as he put the last interrogatory, 
 was a decided failure. 
 
 " My mother, I am sorry to say," replied The 
 odore, casting down his eyes, " is no more among 
 us ; she left this life about two years since, hav 
 ing contracted a mortal fever from attendance in 
 the sick chamber of a dying friend. Edwin, soon 
 after graduating at Cambridge, accepted a promis 
 ing invitation to go out to Canton as clerk for 
 Cushwin & Co. Did you not have a letter from 
 him before he left V 
 
 " No." 
 
 " I am quite sure he wrote you. We have not 
 heard from him now, for almost eighteen months. 
 As for Ellen" 
 
 Harry here moved his chair a little toward the 
 speaker. 
 
 " She is still single, and, I have reason to be 
 lieve, quite well." 
 
 From the conversation which then ensued, and 
 which was resumed, at intervals, during the day 
 and evening, Harry learned further, that the Clares
 
 WHICH MAKES THE MAN? 135 
 
 had lost their little property through the failure of 
 a bank ; that they had been obliged to give up the 
 cottage, and it was now occupied by a respectable 
 old Methodist clergyman, named Williams, in 
 whose family Ellen boarded. She supported her 
 self by braiding straw for bonnets. For nearly 
 three years, Theodore had been in the employ 
 ment of Messrs. Savill & Dunn, carvers and gild 
 ers, near India wharf in Boston. On account of 
 his superior skill in executing carved work he had 
 received liberal wages, which, at Ellen's instiga 
 tion, he saved up with the view of visiting Italy, 
 for the purpose of studying the art of sculpture. 
 At length he found a good opportunity of sailing 
 for Leghorn. The owner of the brig " John Han 
 cock," was willing to have him pay for his pas 
 sage by carving a new figure-head for the vessel ; 
 and, in this way, Theodore had saved a principal 
 item in his contemplated expenses. The brig was 
 to take in a part of her cargo at New York, and 
 thus was his present visit accounted for. On the 
 day of his departure from Boston, Ellen had in 
 sisted upon adding a hundred dollars to his little 
 hoard an amount which she had saved from the 
 earnings of two years. She had also given him 
 Henry Maverick's address in New York a piece 
 of information which she had obtained from a let 
 ter written by Harry, shortly after leaving Eagles- 
 wood, to Edwin. 
 
 As soon as these particulars had been elicited 
 from Theodore Clare, Mr. John Lewis was seen 
 to take from his coat-pocket a huge slice of gin 
 gerbread, and begin gnawing upon it with intense 
 relish.
 
 136 WEALTH AND WORTH ; OR, 
 
 " John Lewis ! John Lewis ! I am ashamed 
 of you," said Sim, twitching him by the coat. 
 
 " Why, dad, I'm hungry," muttered John Lew 
 is, opening his eyes till they seemed almost as 
 big as saucers. 
 
 " 'Dad /' how often have I told you not to call 
 me dad, you big, overgrown booby? A pretty fel 
 low you to set up a provision-store ! Why, one 
 would think, to see you go into that gingerbread 
 with such a looseness, that you hadn't been wean 
 ed, John Lewis !" 
 
 j^ " Indeed, Lewis," exclaimed Harry, " it is no 
 wonder that John is hungry ; for it is past three 
 o'clock, and I had forgotten to make any arrange 
 ments for dinner. But sit still, and hear what I 
 have to propose. We will have dinner here. Em- 
 meline shall cook for us. I hear Mingo down 
 stairs talking to Hotspur. He shall go and get us 
 some oysters and celery, and a tender-loin of beef, 
 and then, with what we have in the house, we 
 shall make out bravely. What say you, mistress 
 cook ?" 
 
 " I will do my best, your worship," replied Em- 
 meline, with mock humility ; and, receiving some 
 money from Harry, she went to fulfil his direc 
 tions. 
 
 The moment John Lewis, who was extrava 
 gantly fond of oysters, heard that word mentioned, 
 he thrust his gingerbread back into his pocket, 
 and remarked, with unwonted animation, that 
 " oysters and tender-loin was a good dinner enough 
 for a governor and no mistake." 
 
 How shall I do justice, by an attempt at de 
 scription, to that simple, but happy happy feast ? 
 Were I to tell how many good things were said
 
 WHICH MAKES THE MAN ? 137 
 
 liow the fair cook was complimented and toasted 
 in goblets overflowing with cold water fresh from 
 the pump how Sim Lewis declared that the 
 stewed oysters were the " prirnest" he had ever 
 tasted how John Lewis, looking slyly at his 
 " dad," expressed a wish, that certain folks, who 
 set up for butchers, would only have half as good 
 tender-loins to sell how Sim told him that he 
 would rub his face in the snow that night when 
 they went home how John Lewis retorted, by 
 boasting that he could whip his " dad"- how Em- 
 meline laughed, and how John Lewis, encouraged 
 by such a sign of approbation, began to think him 
 self a great wag and the life of the company how 
 Theodore, in order to undeceive him, told a Yan 
 kee story, which made John and his father choke 
 so with laughter as to be obliged to turn away 
 from the table how Hotspur, now venerable in 
 years, was let into the room and fed, and then 
 permitted to curl himself up on the rug and how 
 John Lewis declared that they were " having a 
 first-rate time :" were I to chronicle all these 
 things, I say, with proper minuteness and fidelity, 
 a volume would hardly be sufficient for the pur 
 pose. 
 
 The dinner-cloth and the plates were removed 
 by Mingo, and then a clean waiter was placed 
 upon the table, with tea and cake, the appearance 
 of which was a signal for renewed hilarity. 
 
 After tea, Emmeline was unanimously called 
 upon for a song, whereupon she gave " Rory O'- 
 More," which was received with such immense 
 applause, as roused even old Hotspur from his 
 nap and set him to barking. John Lewis then 
 called for a sentimental song ; and Emmeline 
 12*
 
 138 WEALTH AND WORTH ; OR, 
 
 sang " A place in thy memory, dearest ;" at which 
 he seemed much delighted. To be sure, there 
 was no accompaniment for her voice. Her harp 
 and piano had been sold long since ; but she had 
 in her throat a finer organ than either ; and she 
 had cultivated it with great success. Theodore, 
 who was a good judge of music, thought he had 
 never heard a ballad more sweetly sung. 
 
 The " sentimental song," as John Lewis termed 
 it, having produced a check to gayety, Henry Mav 
 erick called upon the worthy butcher for one in a 
 different vein ; and Sim complied. You should 
 have heard him in " Scotland's burning ;" or the 
 " Three Blind Mice ;" for he completely electrified 
 his audience, and made the very plates rattle ap 
 plause. The pieces, to be sure, were not intended 
 for one voice, but it was found all sufficient on 
 this occasion. Unwilling to be outshone by his 
 " dad," John Lewis produced a jew's-harp, and 
 played some tunes in quite a skilful manner, so 
 that he received a due share of very sincere com 
 mendation from his hearers. 
 
 A contribution to the amusements of the even 
 ing being now expected from Theodore, he took 
 from his pocket a little morocco case and handed 
 it to Harry ; who, on opening it, found it to con 
 tain a medallion profile in plaster of Ellen Clare 
 a specimen of Theodore's own handiwork. Both 
 Harry and Emmeline had a natural taste for the 
 beautiful in art, and it seemed as if they could not 
 too enthusiastically express their admiration of 
 this gem. There was genius in every line. It 
 was, moreover, a faithful likeness of the original. 
 So reluctant did Harry seem to part with it, that 
 Theodore finally desired him to keep it, saying
 
 WHICH MAKES THE MAN? 139 
 
 that he had a duplicate copy. The gift was ac 
 cepted with alacrity. 
 
 And now the clock struck nine, and our little 
 party prepared to break up. A " happy new year" 
 was, for the fiftieth time, wished all round ; and 
 then the butcher and his son, putting on their big 
 coats, bade their friends good night, with many a 
 promise to call soon again. Theodore expected 
 to sail in two or three days. He now wished that 
 the delay might be extended to weeks ; and his 
 eyes seemed to say so, as he reluctantly let go his 
 clasp of Emmeline's hand, and followed the Lew 
 ises into the snow-covered street. What strange, 
 and new, and thrilling emotions had he that eve 
 ning experienced ! Ah, Theodore ! I fear it is not 
 simply with the eye of an artist that you regard 
 Miss Maverick. 
 
 As a faithful chronicler, I may as well add in 
 this place, that Theodore called the next morning, 
 and invited Emmeline to visit a fine collection of 
 old paintings exhibiting in Barclay-street. She 
 assented ; for her mother was now so well as not 
 to require her attendance. It was a cold, sun- 
 bright morning ; and the frosted rime glittered as 
 if the ground had been Macadamized with dia 
 monds. The merry jingle of the sleigh-bells was 
 sounding on all sides. Huge " omnibuses" on 
 runners were dashing along Broadway, filled with 
 gay passengers. All was animation, glitter, and 
 activity. 
 
 At the exhibition-room, Emmeline met several 
 persons, with whom she had once been acquainted. 
 Among them was a party, whom she had met at 
 Eagleswood, consisting of the Misses Danton, Mr. 
 and Miss Van Rapp, Miss Sumpter, and Mr. Er-
 
 140 WEALTH AND WORTH ; OR, 
 
 mine. Ravenstone Hardworth was also present. 
 He at once recognised Miss Maverick, and pointed 
 her out to his companions. The ladies thereupon 
 levelled their eye-glasses at her in a very ill-bred 
 manner ; but she and Theodore were by this time 
 so lost in admiration of a fine garden scene by 
 Watteau as to be wholly unconscious of the titter 
 which was intended for their ears. Theodore was 
 in his element ; and Emmeline shared largely in 
 his enthusiasm. Both thought the forenoon, which 
 they passed among the paintings, too brief. 
 
 On going on board the " John Hancock" that 
 afternoon, Theodore learned that she was to sail 
 early the next morning, and that he must be on 
 board that night. Sorrowfully he bent his way 
 toward the house of the Mavericks, and sorrow 
 fully did he take his leave of Emmeline. 
 
 " I have a great favor to ask of you," said he, at 
 parting. 
 
 " What is it ?" 
 
 " Give me that little curl, that is going astray 
 down your cheek. I want it as an amulet. I am 
 sure it will keep me safe and pure." 
 
 Emmeline blushed ; and her heart beat quick 
 and strong. But she at once recovered her self- 
 possession ; and, going to the glass, severed the 
 lock with a pair of scissors, and gave it to Theo 
 dore, remarking, with a smile, that faith often ful 
 filled its own prophecies ; and that, if he believed 
 the curl would prove a charm against evil, he had 
 already done much toward making it one. Then, 
 predicting his success in the art to which he was 
 to devote himself, and wishing him a prosperous 
 voyage, she bade him " God speed." And Theo 
 dore, with many good resolutions, high aspirations,
 
 WHICH MAKES THE MAN? 
 
 141 
 
 and tender hopes succeeding one another in his 
 mind, hurried along the bank of the river toward 
 the brig, and embarked for Italy.
 
 142 WEALTH AND WORTH J OR, 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 " If feeling does not prompt, in vain you strive ; 
 If from the soul the language does not come, 
 By its own impulse, to impel the hearts 
 Of hearers, with communicated power, 
 In vain you strive in vain you study earnestly." 
 
 GOETHE, translated by ANSTER. 
 
 THE period to which Henry Maverick had long 
 looked forward with anxious but resolute feelings 
 to attain which, he had confined his zeal and 
 his efforts to one exclusive study and pursuit, en 
 during many privations, and foregoing many en 
 joyments, with an unfaltering spirit had now 
 arrived. He was admitted to practise at the bar, 
 and to call himself a lawyer. And with a sagaci 
 ty which looked to a mutual advantage, he had 
 entered into partnership with Mr. Trane, and set 
 up his sign over the door of that gentleman's of 
 fice. He was well aware, however, that supine- 
 ness and inactivity were not the steps of advance 
 ment. He resolved to make himself heard and 
 known in the community. He had long practised 
 extemporaneous speaking in private, and had com 
 plete confidence in his promptitude, fluency, and 
 command of language. Had he the self-posses 
 sion requisite to address a public assembly ? to 
 keep his ideas properly marshalled for utterance 
 in the presence of a large audience ? He was re 
 solved to try. One failure or twenty should not 
 discourage him. He well knew that there was
 
 WHICH MAKES THE MAN? 143 
 
 no faculty more easily attainable by practice, than 
 that of speaking in public. The novelty of the 
 thing might embarrass him at first. The formality 
 of " rising and attracting the eyes of a crowd, and 
 continuing to speak while everybody else was 
 silent," might confound and discommode him ; 
 but he was conscious, that if he had anything worth 
 hearing to communicate ; any great controverted 
 truths, which he felt strongly himself, and desired 
 to impress upon others he had nothing to fear. 
 If there were ideas, the words would follow. 
 Nay ; Maverick had seen, in attending the public 
 meetings of the various political parties of the city, 
 how often a speaker managed to get along fre 
 quently without any ideas, by dint of mere verbiage 
 and assurance. 
 
 The question of an expensive enterprise to sup 
 ply the city with fresh spring water, by means of 
 an aqueduct, that should rival the proudest works 
 of antiquity in stupendous magnificence, was at 
 that time in agitation, and a public meeting of 
 citizens had been called for its consideration. 
 Many wealthy holders of real estate were hostile 
 to the undertaking, inasmuch as they feared it 
 would involve a burden of taxation, of which they 
 would have to bear a heavy proportion. The 
 poorer classes, however, felt the importance of 
 having a supply of pure, fresh water, and were 
 pretty generally in favor of the measure. But 
 they were not yet fully aroused to a sense of its 
 value, and its friends began to apprehend that the 
 opposition brought to bear by the estate-holders 
 would arrest it for the present. The meeting now 
 called was looked to with anxiety, as it was be 
 lieved to have been arranged by the enemies of
 
 144 WEALTH AND WORTH ; OR, 
 
 the enterprise, for the purpose of directing public 
 opinion in favor of its indefinite postponement. 
 
 The important evening was at hand. During 
 the afternoon, Harry and Emmeline had taken a 
 walk up Broadway as far as Union Place. Harry 
 had been silent and abstracted the whole distance. 
 Occasionally his lips would move, and a hasty 
 gesticulation would indicate that he was revolving 
 some topic of more than ordinary interest. 
 
 " What possesses you, Harry ?" asked his sis 
 ter. " Here I have put a question to you five 
 times, and you have paid no more attention to it 
 than if you had been that pump at the corner." 
 
 " Excuse me, sister. I was thinking about ma 
 king a speech to-night at Masonic Hall." 
 
 "A speech!" exclaimed Emmeline and her 
 heart leaped almost into her mouth. " How I 
 wish I could be there to hear you ! But will it 
 not require a vast deal of courage, Harry ?" 
 
 " Not exactly courage, I suspect. The little 
 tinker in our street, who is so afraid of his wife as 
 to let her box his ears with impunity, is quite a 
 doughty orator at some of our ward-meetings. He 
 will spout you by the hour together and such 
 brave words ! such a valorous pummelling of the 
 table with his fists ! And yet we can hardly call 
 Dick Dwindle a man of courage. Assurance is, 
 perhaps, the fitter word." 
 
 " But on what subject do you intend to speak ? 
 How anxious I shall be to hear of your success !" 
 
 " Cold water is my theme. Had ever poet or 
 orator a more inspiring one ? Ah, Emmeline ! 
 you and I have lived among poor folks long enough 
 in this great city to have every sympathy of our 
 nature awakened in this cause. We have seen
 
 WHICH MAKES THE MAN t 145 
 
 how uncleanliness and vice beget each other, and 
 how intemperance often finds for itself a not in 
 valid excuse in the scarcity and impurity of the 
 limpid element." 
 
 " It is very true. And how often last summer 
 I used to sigh for a draught from the cool, crystal 
 spring, which bubbles forth close by the summer- 
 house at Eagleswood !" 
 
 They had by this time reached the street in 
 which they lived. 
 
 " Here we are, at home, Emmeline ! They are 
 lighting the street-lamps. I must go ; for I would 
 be in season at the hall. Tell mother all about 
 it ; and have a cup of tea ready for me when I re 
 turn. I shall probably be back by ten." 
 
 " Be sure and recollect everything that happens, 
 that we may have a full account of it from your 
 own lips. I am sure, quite sure, dear Harry, that 
 you will succeed. God be with you !" 
 
 Harry hastened across the Bowery, along Grand- 
 street, and down Broadway, until he reached Ma 
 sonic Hall. Lights were gleaming from the win 
 dows, and people were pouring in at the door and 
 up stairs into the large room, in considerable num 
 bers. He joined the current, and soon found him 
 self in the centre of the hall. At the further end 
 was a raised platform, with a table and chairs for 
 the president, vice-presidents, and secretaries of 
 the meeting, and a space reserved for the speakers. 
 
 It was speedily apparent to Harry, as the meet 
 ing filled up, that its proceedings had been all pre 
 arranged, or " cut and dried," by the leaders of the 
 party opposed to the great cold-water enterprise. 
 Not only had the officers of the meeting been de 
 cided upon, and a set of resolutions prepared, but
 
 WEALTH AND WORTH ; OR, 
 
 the very speakers had been designated ; and, al 
 though the meeting was nominally one for free 
 discussion, it was plain that it would be regarded 
 as a species of interference for any individual, 
 undelegated by a clique, to address the assembly. 
 Nevertheless, young Maverick did not despair. 
 
 The meeting was called to order by Harry's old 
 friend Bloomwell. An old and respectable citi 
 zen, named Ruydvelt, was placed in the chair, 
 without opposition ; and a number of vice-presi 
 dents, among whom was the elder Mr. Hardworth, 
 were then appointed ; while Mr. Ravenstone Hard- 
 worth and Mr. Van Rapp were made secretaries. 
 An organization having been thus effected, Mr. 
 Twist, another old acquaintance of our hero, rose, 
 and glibly stated the objects of the meeting which 
 were, according to his exposition, to consider the 
 inexpediency of undertaking at that time, during 
 the unexampled state of prostration in all branches 
 of business, a project so ruinously expensive as 
 that proposed by the cold-water men a project, 
 " which, if carried into operation, would burden 
 the city and the citizens with a tax that would 
 press like an incubus upon their energies that, 
 like the Bohan Upas,* would wither and blast all 
 other enterprises beneath its shade." 
 
 After much more to this effect, Mr. Twist offer 
 ed a series of resolutions, condemning the enter 
 prise as unseasonable, superfluous, and unjust in 
 its operation. As he sat down, Mr. Bloomwell 
 
 * Did the reader ever attend a popular meeting for debate 
 in this country, at which this unfortunate tree was not 
 pressed into metaphorical service ? It has answered almost 
 as many purposes in oratory as the " phoenix,'' or the 
 "dew-drops on the lion's mane.''
 
 WHICH MAKES THE MAN ? 147 
 
 instantly rose, seconded the resolutions, and, in 
 dulging in many coy remarks upon his own pre 
 sumption in addressing the assembly after the 
 eloquent, unanswerable, and never-to-be-rivalled 
 speech of the gentleman who had just finished, 
 made a very long and dull harangue, as if to prove 
 the sincerity of his pretended diffidence of his own 
 powers of captivating an audience. 
 
 A very feeble indication of applause followed 
 each of these speeches. But there were plainly 
 many malecontents among the crowd, who were 
 dissatisfied at the course things were taking. 
 " Why isn't Wagnell here to-night ?" asked one 
 of them. " He promised he would speak for us. 
 He is always among the missing. It won't do to 
 let the case go by default. Some of us ought to 
 enter our protest. Come, Jones, get up as soon, 
 as this old proser has finished, and say a word or 
 two against the resolutions. They will be passed 
 of course, but we ought to let the public know that 
 there were some dissenting voices." 
 
 " Oh, I can't speak in public," said Jones. 
 " Here is Sterling. He can talk like a book." 
 
 Mr. Bloomwell had at length ceased speaking, 
 and stepped down from the platform. " Is it your 
 pleasure that these resolutions be adopted ?" said 
 the president. 
 
 Mr Sterling, a modest, smooth-faced, respecta 
 ble-looking man, now mounted the platform and 
 begged to say a few words. He then mildly and 
 hesitatingly stated some objections to the argu 
 ments which Messrs. Twist and Bloomwell had 
 advanced ; but his voice was so low, and his man 
 ner so unimpassioned, that he hardly seemed to 
 produce a single ripple upon the minds of his au-
 
 148 WEALTH AND WORTH; OR, 
 
 dience. His friends tried to animate him by a 
 little applause, but it would not do. The anti-cold 
 water men looked on and smiled at his feeble and 
 unavailing efforts. As soon as he had ceased, 
 Mr. Twist rose, and, in a compassionate manner, 
 as if correcting the errors of a child, put aside, or 
 seemed to put aside, the few gentle objections that 
 had been suggested. 
 
 " Is it your pleasure that these resolutions be 
 now adopted ?" said the president a second time. 
 
 Harry's heart beat as if it would burst through 
 his breast. Pushing his way through the crowd, 
 he jumped upon the platform, and ejaculated, " Mr. 
 President !" 
 
 " Down ! down ! Question ! question 1 Down !" 
 cried the anti-cold water men. 
 
 " Go on ! Hear him ! Let him speak ! Don't 
 be afraid, young 'un ! Give him fair play !" re 
 turned their opponents. 
 
 A tremendous clamor was raised. " Can I be 
 lieve my eyes ?" quoth Mr. Bloomwell. 
 
 " What impudence !" cried Mr. Twist. 
 
 " I thought the vagabond was dead," said Ra- 
 venstone Hardworth to his fellow-secretary. 
 
 " The boy must be tipsy," muttered the elder 
 Mr. Hardworth to his neighbor. 
 
 Harry stood his ground as if he had been a 
 statue of bronze. 
 
 " Silence !" exclaimed the president, rapping 
 with the knob of his cane upon the table. "No 
 man shall say I have abetted any attempt at gag- 
 gery. Silence, Mr. Hardworth ! This is a meet 
 ing for free discussion." And then, turning to 
 Harry, he courteously asked : " What name, sir, 
 shall I announce ?"
 
 WHICH MAKES THE MAN? 149 
 
 " Maverick !" 
 
 " Mr. Maverick will address you, gentlemen." 
 
 Harry bowed and turned to the audience. The 
 hall was filled almost to overflowing. A thousand 
 eyes were intently fixed upon his. A thousand 
 lips were silent for his to open. A thousand ears 
 were listening for his words. His most careless 
 movements were now subjects of scrutiny to a 
 multitude. Did he quail ? For a moment, the hall 
 and the people seemed to swim before him. His 
 faculties were suspended. He was dizzy, sick. A 
 faint hiss was heard from among the vice-presi 
 dents. It restored him to consciousness, and was 
 followed by a round of applause, stimulated main 
 ly by a man on crutches not far from the platform, 
 who had been particularly active from the first in 
 encouraging Harry to proceed, and in producing 
 an impression in his favor. The applause gave 
 our hero time to rally. It was hushed. Silence 
 pervaded the crowd. In clear, audible tones, and 
 with a prepossessing grace of language and of 
 manner, he thanked the president and the audi 
 ence for their indulgence in granting him a hear 
 ing, and then, elevating his voice, he launched in 
 to his subject, " like an eagle dallying with the 
 wind." 
 
 The speaker swept away, as if they were so 
 many cobwebs, the laborious facts and long docu 
 mentary statistics that had been adduced by Twist 
 and Bloomwell. He declared that it was a matter 
 of indifference whether they were true or false. 
 They were impertinent in either case. The only 
 relevant questions were, can the enterprise of sup 
 plying the city with pure water be honorably ef- 
 13*
 
 150 WEALTH AND WORTH ; OB, 
 
 fected, and, if so, ought it not to be carried into 
 immediate operation ? 
 
 This simplification of the points at issue, ex 
 pressed as it was with a pointed energy of style 
 and utterance, was received with loud and pro 
 longed applause. The two Hardworths, Bloom- 
 well, and Twist were almost pallid with agitation 
 and anger. But the venerable presiding officer, 
 Mr. Ruydvelt, smiled, and nodded with suavity to 
 the young debater. 
 
 Having stated his propositions, Harry then pro 
 ceeded to urge them affirmatively upon his hear 
 ers. " Was the project feasible ? What intelli 
 gent man could entertain a doubt upon the sub 
 ject ? Not any one, who had seen, as he had 
 seen, and many there present had seen, the wealthi 
 est portion of that great city laid in flames, a heap 
 of black, smouldering ruins ; and, lo ! with a ra 
 pidity that seemed the work of magic, the next 
 morning the hammer of the artisan was heard 
 ringing amid the scene of desolation, and before 
 the news of the conflagration had reached the re 
 motest parts of the country, stately edifices of 
 granite and of brick were rising on every side, 
 and the busy hum of traffic mingled with the 
 cheerful din of labor, until, in a few weeks, it 
 would hardly be an exaggeration to say, days 
 instead of an unsightly waste of smirched bricks, 
 whole streets of elegant structures might be seen, 
 proudly lifting their heads to proclaim to the world 
 that New York, Antaeus-like, had gathered new 
 strength from her prostration to the earth. And 
 will gentlemen tell us that this great metropolis 
 with a population increasing at a ratio almost in 
 credible ; with unimpaired credit and resources,
 
 WHICH MAKES THE MAN ? 151 
 
 to whose development the imagination could not 
 fix a limit with the sea at her feet, pouring the 
 commerce of all nations into her lap, and with two 
 abounding rivers clasping her in their arms, and 
 bringing tributes of trade from vast inland regions 
 will gentlemen gravely tell us that such a metropolis 
 cannot afford to purchase for its inhabitants the bles 
 sing of a bountiful supply of pure, wholesome water] 
 As well might the clouds say to the ocean, while 
 imbibing perpetual moisture from its evaporation 
 We cannot afford to give you rain !" 
 
 I have attended many public meetings, but do 
 not remember ever to have heard a more animated 
 and prolonged explosion of applause than that 
 which followed this climax, uttered as it was with 
 a bold and eloquent emphasis of action and of tone. 
 After hands had been clapped, and canes knocked 
 against the floor, till the roof rang again, the man 
 with the crutch cried out " three cheers !" " I 
 second the motion !" said John Lewis ; and im 
 mediately three rounds of good, hearty cheers 
 were given by the majority of the audience, with 
 a loudness that startled the pedestrians in Broad 
 way, and brought a large addition to the meeting. 
 Old Ruydvelt seemed delighted, and several gen 
 tlemen, who had come to oppose the project, warm 
 ly applauded the young orator. But O, the long 
 faces that were worn by certain people present ! 
 
 " We have now to consider," continued Harry, 
 " if, granting that this enterprise can be accom 
 plished, it ought not to be, and at once." He then 
 went on briefly to recapitulate some simple but in 
 teresting facts in regard to the benefits of a plenti 
 ful supply of pure water for external and internal 
 use. He maintained, that the sole primitive and
 
 152 WEALTH AND WORTH ; OR, 
 
 mainly natural drink was water, which, when pure, 
 had nothing noxious in it. It was the best, most 
 wholesome, and grateful to those who were thirsty, 
 whether sick or well ; and he proved, from high 
 medical testimony, that it was the most proper bev 
 erage for man as well as for animals. " But, be it 
 observed," he said, " that in all these testimonials 
 to its value, it is pure water that is spoken of." 
 And thereupon he stated some startling facts in re 
 gard to the chymical analysis of the water in some 
 of our wells, by which it appeared that from their 
 contiguity to the pollutions of the city, they were 
 liable to be impregnated with qualities the most per 
 nicious an objection to which pure spring water, 
 introduced from a distance through iron pipes, could 
 never be liable. Then a thrilling allusion to the 
 effect that might be expected from the enterprise, 
 in presenting a check to intemperance, led him on 
 to expatiate a moment upon the tremendous evils 
 of that habit, and to draw a vivid picture of one of 
 its votaries. After carrying this imaginary victim 
 through the usual gradations of sin and debase 
 ment, the orator represented him suddenly as over 
 taken by a repentance, tardy, but not altogether 
 hopeless, although " the poor, gin-corroded, fallen 
 mortal now lay gasping, writhing, and helpless on 
 his coarse, unwashed pallet, cursing the day when 
 he first tasted of spirituous liquors. Will you not, O 
 fellow-citizens, listen to his dying prayer a cup 
 of pure, cold water for charity* s sake .'" 
 
 I have done but imperfect justice to this passage 
 in Harry's speech. Suffice it to say, that it pro 
 duced another burst of applause not less decided 
 than the last. " Yes i yes ! we will listen to it !" 
 cried a hundred voices.
 
 WHICH MAKES THE MAN ? 153 
 
 Harry concluded his remarks by saying that, 
 should the resolutions offered by the gentleman, 
 who first addressed that assembly, be set aside, he 
 should supply their place with the following : 
 " Resolved : that, in the opinion of this meeting, 
 it is expedient for the city authorities to adopt in 
 stant and efficient measures for introducing into 
 the city a constant, regular, and copious supply of 
 pure spring water." 
 
 Another and a more protracted storm of applause 
 followed, as, handing this resolution on a slip of 
 paper to the president, our friend Harry stepped 
 down from the platform: 
 
 " Who is he ? What did he say his name was 7 
 Does anybody know him ? A great speech was 
 it not ? See how mad old Bloomwell looks ! 
 Our side is up again ! What is he ? Who is he ? 
 A second Harry Clay ! Lawyer Twist is scowl 
 ing like a thunder-cloud So is Hardworth Well 
 he may The young fellow's name is Maverick 
 What an eye he has ! He isn't one of your dan 
 dies, any how His coat seemed a little rusty 
 Did any one ever hear him speak before ?" Such 
 were the exclamations and interrogations which 
 Harry had to hear, mingled in one confused buzz 
 around him. 
 
 The resolutions offered by Mr. Twist were put 
 by the president, and rejected by the audience 
 with one loud, emphatic " No !" Harry's resolu 
 tion was then read. " Is it your pleasure, gentle 
 man," said old Mr. Ruydvelt, " that this resolution 
 be adopted ?" " Ay, ay !" exclaimed a thousand 
 voices. It was triumphantly carried ; and thus 
 were the objects of the enemies of pure water 
 utterly defeated.
 
 154 WEALTH AND WORTH; OR, 
 
 A gentleman of composed, easy manners, now 
 rose, and begged to offer a couple of resolutions. 
 " Certainly," thought Harry, " I have seen that 
 face before. It is Mr. Brown, whom I met once 
 at Eagleswood, and took a great dislike to. He 
 told me some things then, which made me think 
 him a prejudiced old cynic ; but they have all 
 turned out true. I wonder what he has got to 
 say now 1" 
 
 It was in truth Mr. Brown ; and these were the 
 resolutions, which, in a clear, loud voice, he read 
 and proposed : " Resolved, that the thanks of this 
 meeting be presented to Mr. Henry Maverick for 
 his able, eloquent, and instructive address." (Loud 
 applause.) " Resolved, that the proceedings of 
 this meeting be published in all the morning pa 
 pers." Mr. Twist attempted to speak, but his 
 voice was drowned. Nobody would listen to him. 
 The resolutions were adopted amid shouts of ap 
 probation ; and Mr. Ravenstone Hardworth had 
 the pleasure, as secretary, of recording for publi 
 cation the honorable praise of one, whom he hated 
 with the hate of a bad and vindictive heart. 
 
 A motion to adjourn was now carried, and the 
 meeting broke up amid an almost general conver 
 sation, of which young Maverick and his speech 
 seemed to be the universal topics. The first per 
 son who came forward to greet him was John 
 Lewis, who had blistered his hands with applaud 
 ing, and who now seemed proud as a victorious 
 general of his acquaintance with the successful 
 speaker. Mr. Brown then advanced with Mr. 
 Ruydvelt, and congratulated our hero in the warm 
 est terms, inquiring where his place of business 
 was, and promising to call on him soon. He
 
 WHICH MAKES THE MAN ? 155 
 
 also introduced his friend the Mayor, who invited 
 Harry to dine with him the next day, in company 
 with Mr. Brown and a foreign minister of distinc 
 tion. Messrs. Bloomwell and Hardworth passed 
 by just in time to hear this invitation given and 
 accepted. Several respectable citizens now press 
 ed forward, and introduced themselves, express 
 ing their acknowledgments in the most flattering 
 terms. Among them were Mr. Sterling, Mr. Jones, 
 and several gentlemen, whose philanthropic exer 
 tions were enlisted in behalf of the temperance 
 cause. Fortunately, Harry had a pack oi printed 
 cards in his pocket, bearing the names of " Maver 
 ick & Trane, Attorneys and Counsellors at Law," 
 with the number of their office ; and these he had 
 no false delicacy in distributing among persons, 
 who professed themselves under deep obligations 
 for his efforts that evening. 
 
 As he was leaving the hall, arm in arm with his 
 now elated friend, John Lewis, he met near the 
 door-way the man on crutches, who, by his well- 
 timed applause before the speech was begun, had 
 done him no trifling service. The man hobbled 
 up, and said : " It isn't myself you'll be for re 
 membering, Mr. Maverick ; but I shall remember 
 you to my dying day, or my name isn't Dennis 
 McCarty." 
 
 " Indeed I have no recollection of you, my good 
 friend." 
 
 " Oh, it's asy for the likes o' you to forgit doin' 
 a poor man a charity. Were you never in Cam 
 bridge ? Did you never give a poor fellow, an' 
 that's myself, ten dollars bekase his hand-organ 
 had been bruk by that chap wid the big goold chain 
 round his neck the same who sat among the vice-
 
 156 WEALTH AND WORTH ; OR, 
 
 prisidents to-night ? Ogh, thin, I called him a 
 big blackguard wanst, an' a big blackguard he is 
 still ; for didn't I persave him fix the evil eye on 
 yer onner ? But little's the harm the spalpeen 
 can do you." 
 
 " I recollect the incident of the hand-organ. I 
 am glad to see you, Dennis. How are you getting 
 on?" 
 
 " Hearty-like, an' it's yerself I may thank, an' 
 the ten dollars. An' if yer onner wud go to Con 
 gress, isn't it Dennis McCarty that 'ud bring you 
 a hundhred dacent boys to the polls clane, active 
 lads, wid shillelaghs under their arms ?" 
 
 " Thank you, Dennis, thank you," said Harry, 
 laughing. " We can dispense with the shillelaghs. 
 But here's my card. Should you or your friends 
 get into trouble, I shall be happy to serve you." 
 
 " We'll git into trouble this blessed night, yer 
 onner, for the sake of comin' to you." 
 
 " Heaven forbid ! But they are putting out the 
 lights. Good night, Dennis." 
 
 " Good night, yer onner. A long life and a 
 merry wake to you, for a rale jintleman as you 
 are !" 
 
 With what a beating heart did Emmeline listen 
 for her brother's knock at the door, that eventful 
 evening ! And when he came at last, and she 
 flew to receive him, and, over his cup of tea, he 
 faithfully described to her and Mrs. Maverick all 
 the incidents which I have narrated, how the 
 maiden wept and laughed by turns ! How proud 
 of him were both sister and mother ! How much 
 purer and nobler than any gratification which 
 could have sprung from the accession of mere
 
 WHICH MAKES THE MAN ? 
 
 157 
 
 wealth, was the felicity of those three united hearts 
 at that moment ! 
 
 Harry retired to rest, and, in the simple prayer 
 which the Savior has given for our daily use, com 
 mended himself to the guidance of his Father in 
 heaven. It was long, however, before the busy 
 brain of the young lawyer would allow him to 
 sink into forgetfulness. Imagination represented 
 over and over again the flattering events of the 
 evening. The watchman's staff rang on the side 
 walk beneath his window, and the clocks from 
 different steeples told the hours past midnight. 
 But Harry heeded not these signals of the lapse 
 of time. At length drowsiness overcame his 
 senses. He slept, and his sleep was tranquil, and 
 his dreams were bright as innocence and beautiful 
 as hope. 
 
 14
 
 158 WEALTH AND WORTH J OR, 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 " While many a noble name, to virtue dear, 
 Delights the public eye, the public ear, 
 And fills thy canker'd breast with suuh annoy, 
 As Satan felt from innocence and joy ; 
 Why, Peter, leave the hated object free, 
 And vent, poor driveller, all thy spite on me ?" 
 
 GIFFOBD'S Epistle to PETER PINDAR. 
 
 " Be thnu as pure as ice, as chaste as snow, ihou shall not escape 
 calumny." 
 
 SHAKSPEARE. 
 
 EARLY the next morning, after a frugal break 
 fast, Henry Maverick hastened to his office. He 
 found Mr. Trane busily engaged in writing an 
 essay on the " Statute of Limitations" for some 
 law magazine. 
 
 " Well, Trane," said he, " is there any news 
 to-day?" 
 
 " Nothing in particular, except that the papers 
 have a good deal to say about a speech that was 
 made by a person of your name at the meeting last 
 night. Who could he be ?" 
 
 " None other than the humble individual before 
 you, my dear sir." 
 
 " You make a speech ! You are joking. Why 
 one of the papers here says it was something su 
 perfine quite extraordinary. And all of them 
 acknowledge that it was received with thunders 
 of applause." 
 
 " Yes, Trane. I made my debut last night."
 
 WHICH MAKES THE MAN? 159 
 
 " Is it possible ? What ! Harry ? You such 
 a speech ! My dear boy, give me your hand. 
 Ha, ha, ha ! Capital ! I always said you would 
 make a figure. Shrewd thing in me to make you 
 take me in as your partner wasn't it ?" 
 
 " You were never guilty of shrewdness in your 
 life, Trane. But I mean now to be shrewd for 
 you. You shan't be fleeced, and imposed upon, 
 and swindled out of legal advice any longer. We 
 are capitally paired. You shall prepare cases, and 
 I will argue them. You shall study, and I will 
 plead. You shall form opinions, and I will deliver 
 them." 
 
 " Just the arrangement that will suit me ! But 
 sit down, now, and tell me all about the speech. 
 Here is the Morning Scourge, unopened. Fifty 
 times have I told that little ragged fellow who 
 leaves it that I didn't want it, but he persists in 
 dropping it at the door, and calls regularly twice 
 a month, and bullies me into paying him. Let's 
 see if the Scourge has anything to say about you. 
 Here it is: 'MEETING AT MASONIC HALL. A 
 
 young man named Maverick made a .' By 
 
 George, this is too bad ! The blackguard !" 
 
 " Don't put it in the fire. Let me see what the 
 Scourge says. A little abuse is a capital thing for 
 a rising young man : ' A young man named Mav 
 erick made a fool of himself at the meeting at 
 Masonic Hall last night, in a speech nearly an 
 hour long, during which he read a lecture on tem 
 perance to the audience. Such puerile babble, it 
 was never our misfortune to listen to, and how it 
 happened to be tolerated is a marvel. The speak 
 er himself seemed to be the fittest possible subject 
 for the kind expostulations of the temperance re-
 
 160 WEALTH AND WORTH J OR, 
 
 formers, for he had evidently been screwing his 
 courage up with a brandy-bottle. A gang of 
 loafers, whom he had brought with him, sustained 
 him in his imbecile tirade, and tried to get up a 
 round of applause when he had finished. This 
 Maverick is a low fellow, who hangs round the 
 purlieus of the Five Points, and gets ' cold whiles' 
 from the Astor House and other fashionable hotels. 
 He was tried last year at Utica, under an assumed 
 name, for horse-stealing, but was let off in consid 
 eration of his youth. Will nobody give him a 
 situation as boot-cleaner or bottle-washer, by which 
 he can get an honest livelihood and clothe himself 
 decently ?" 
 
 " Coke upon Lyttleton !" exclaimed Mr. Trane, 
 employing in that expression his direst and most 
 vehement oath. " Isn't this too bad ? Why, Har 
 ry, the fellow ought to be spoken to." 
 
 " Do you think so ? Would you be so severe 
 upon him ?" 
 
 " Certainly, he deserves it. What a pack of 
 lies he has published !" 
 
 " Come along with me, then. We will pay the 
 editor a visit, and speak to him, as you recom 
 mend." 
 
 After threading a number of streets, rather nar 
 row and dirty, the two friends arrived at the office 
 of the Morning Scourge, and proceeding up stairs 
 into an attic, knocked at a door, on which was 
 pasted, in letters cut from the heads of newspapers, 
 the words, " EDITOR'S ROOM." Harry entered 
 without waiting for permission, and was followed by 
 his companion. At a table covered with the journals 
 of the day, while beneath it lay cluttered heaps of 
 old newspapers, sat a puny specimen of masculine
 
 WHICH MAKES THE MAN? 161 
 
 humanity, with a box of wafers before him and a 
 pair of scissors in his hand. He was dressed in 
 black, and his hair was black, and his hands were 
 black ; and he wore black-rimmed spectacles, 
 which gave to his visage a ludicrous air of gravity, 
 in odd contrast with an expression of impish cun 
 ning, and gloating self-conceit, which lurked in 
 the corners of his mouth and the attitudes of his 
 head. 
 
 " Are you the editor ?" asked Harry. 
 
 " It is our private opinion that we are," replied 
 this freak of nature, pasting a printed paragraph 
 upon a piece of brown paper as he spoke. 
 
 " Well, my name is Maverick." 
 
 i; Indeed ! Well, Maverick, how are your folks ? 
 Has the baby got over his measles yet 1" 
 
 " None of this frivolity, sir ! What do you mean 
 by these lies concerning me in your paper of this 
 morning ?" 
 
 " Cleverly done that isn't it, Maverick 1 Pi 
 quant and neatly turned, eh ? We pride ourself 
 on that paragraph." 
 
 " Are you trying to provoke me into chastising 
 you on the spot ?" 
 
 " Oh, do it by all means. It will be a capital 
 day's job for us, and furnish a good story for the 
 Scourge. Assault and battery held to bail 
 damages, ten thousand dollars Oh, pray, have the 
 goodness to kick us. Perhaps your friend too 
 would like to amuse himself?" 
 
 Poor Trane turned away in disgust and amaze 
 ment, as if shrinking from the horrid familiarity of 
 some unclean beast. 
 
 " Attend to me, you ink-spot on creation ; you 
 14*
 
 WEALTH AND "WORTH ; OR, 
 
 preposterous plurality," said Harry, laughing. " I 
 am not going to thrash you" 
 
 " Do, do !" interrupted the -eccentricity. " Have 
 the goodness" 
 
 " Silence !" exclaimed Harry. " All I demand 
 of you is, that you publish in to-morrow's paper a 
 full retraction of these falsehoods, accompanied by 
 a proper apology." 
 
 " Oh ! certainly, Maverick, certainly ; with the 
 greatest possible pleasure in the world. Ha, ha, 
 ha ! ' Happy to learn, &c.' ' misinformed, &c.' 
 We will do it for you O. K !"* 
 
 " In that case, I take my leave, advising you to 
 be more sparing of your scurrility in future." 
 
 " Stop one moment, Maverick. You have for 
 gotten a very essential preliminary. Our fees are 
 always payable in advance." 
 
 " Well : what is that to me ?" 
 
 " Come, now, Maverick, you don't suppose we 
 are going to publish a vindication of you without 
 being paid for it ? That is too good a joke." 
 
 " A vindication ! What ! when the charges 
 against me have been invented by yourself or 
 
 * For the benefit of some future antiquarian, I will re 
 mark, that the use of these mystic letters, which were so 
 conspicuous upon the banners of political parties during 
 the last Presidential contest, is popularly believed to have 
 originated with a certain ex-dignitary of the land, who, 
 wishing to express his approbation of a document that was 
 submitted to his official inspection, endorsed upon it, as he 
 believed, the initial letters of the words all correct ; con 
 ceiving the proper spelling to be, o-l k-o-r-e-k-t. The an 
 ecdote is of course one of those pleasant fictions, which 
 individuals of the same independent tone of morals as the 
 editor of the Scourge, amuse themselves with fabricating.
 
 WHICH MAKES THE MAN? 163 
 
 your informer, do you presume to call a confession 
 of your villany a vindication of me ?" 
 
 " We were hoping, just then, that you were 
 going to strike us. You are not a fellow of much 
 spunk, Maverick." 
 
 " Look you, sir ! I see it is useless wasting 
 anger upon such an anomaly as yourself. You 
 have been paid for this abuse of me ?" 
 
 " Exactly. Now you begin to talk like a man 
 of sense." 
 
 " And you want me to pay you to induce you 
 to take it back ?" 
 
 " You couldn't have ciphered it out more cor 
 rectly if you had used your slate." 
 
 " What is the amount of your fee ?" 
 
 " Let us think. Five dollars received, and five 
 dollars that we can get by threatening him with 
 an exposure, is ten dollars. Well, Maverick ; 
 seeing it is your mother's son, for six dollars, cash 
 down on the nail, we will retract the lies about 
 you, and come out with an exposure of the man 
 who put us up to the attack." 
 
 " What if I should institute a libel-suit against 
 you ?" 
 
 " Do it, Maverick, and we will swear eternal 
 friendship. A libel-suit would be the making of 
 us. People are complaining that the Scourge 
 flags ; that it doesn't contain spice enough. A 
 libel-suit ! Delicious ! It will bring us up again 
 to our old circulation." 
 
 " I perceive," said Harry, " that you are one of 
 that class of outcasts from respectable society, in 
 festing our city, who live by lampoonery, and who 
 find a fiendish gratification in attempts to drag 
 down those above them to their own level of in-
 
 164 WEALTH AND WORTH ; OR, 
 
 famy. None but fools or knaves, however, credit 
 and retail your fabrications. It is your praise alone 
 which an honest man should fear, for it leaves him 
 liable to the suspicion that he has meanly truck 
 led, in order to escape your venal defamation. As 
 for the person who has instigated this abuse of me, 
 you may tell him, that were his name enclosed in 
 a slip of paper and dropped at my feet, I would not 
 stoop to pick it up, so slight is my curiosity to 
 know who he is, and so little do I prize his efforts 
 to injure." 
 
 " Did you ever try your hand at a leading arti 
 cle, sir ?" inquired the editor of the Scourge. " We 
 should imagine, now, you could do something in 
 the invective line something in the style of Ju- 
 nius, or Macaulay even, that would tell. Suppose 
 you write us a smasher for Saturday's paper ? We 
 will give you a subject." 
 
 Harry turned to his companion. " Have I spoken 
 to him enough, think you, Trane ?" 
 
 " Coke upon Lyttleton ! I never heard anything 
 like it in my born days," said the astounded coun 
 sellor, as he took Harry's proffered arm. The 
 companions quitted the room, and the last words 
 of the editor of the Scourge, as they left, conveyed 
 an earnest injunction to Maverick, "not to forget 
 to remember him to his ma'am," and a request to 
 the bewildered Trane, that " he would give him 
 a lock of his hair." 
 
 The partners returned to their office. Mr. 
 Brown was waiting there, and examining the li 
 brary with lively manifestations of interest. Har 
 ry introduced Mr. Trane, and then described the 
 interview they had just had with the " gentleman of 
 the press." Mr. Brown laughed, and said: " It is all
 
 WHICH MAKES THE MAN ? 165 
 
 very characteristic, what you tell me. Now will 
 this caitiff come out to-morrow in his paper with a 
 long story founded on your visit, which will con 
 tain a bushel of lies to a grain of truth. But the 
 very license of the abandoned portion of the press 
 among us carries its own antidote. People may 
 read the scurrility, and laugh at it, but no man of 
 intelligence thinks of believing it. I am rather 
 prejudiced in favor of a person, at seeing him 
 abused and defamed by a journal like the Scourge. 
 I have always admired Dr. Johnson's true and just 
 philosophy in regard to public abuse. When at 
 tacked for his writings, he would say : * Why now, 
 these vagabonds are only advertising my book : it 
 is surely better a man should be abused than for 
 gotten.' I suspect, Mr. Maverick, from the indif 
 ference you manifest touching this atrocious state 
 ment in regard to yourself, that you have been im 
 bibing a little of Dr. Johnson's peculiar philosophy." 
 
 " I agree with him, perfectly, on this subject," 
 said Harry. 
 
 " Well, Mr. Maverick, my immediate purpose 
 in calling here was to inquire, if you and your 
 partner will have time to attend to a case of some 
 magnitude, which comes on next month, in behalf 
 of a great rail-road company, who, if you succeed 
 in getting them a verdict, will probably be very 
 liberal toward you. The case has been intrusted 
 to me, with liberty to select whom I please to 
 manage it." 
 
 ' You couldn't have found any who have more 
 leisure or disposition to attend to business than 
 we. Isn't it so, Mr. Trane ?" 
 
 Mr. Trane smiled and nodded, and then, em-
 
 166 WEALTH AND WORTH ; OR, 
 
 barrassed by a look from Mr. Brown, winked his 
 eyes and began swinging his long leg. 
 
 " I have read with much pleasure, Mr. Trane, 
 your admirable essay in the Jurist on the ' Conflict 
 of Laws,'" said Mr. Brown. " It is sound and 
 able, and displays not only a wonderful extent of 
 legal learning, but much original profundity of 
 thought." 
 
 Poor Trane had never had a compliment before 
 in his life, and, though his face was overspread 
 with blushes, he could not forbear following the 
 impulse of his heart. He grasped Mr. Brown's 
 hand, and emphatically thanked him. 
 
 Mr. Brown took his leave, promising to call the 
 next day with the necessary documents, to put Mr. 
 Trane in possession of the important case he had 
 confided to him and his partner. Harry did not 
 forget his appointment that afternoon at the May 
 or's. He found a party of gentlemen assembled, 
 nearly all of whom were eminent for talents or 
 mental acquirements ; and all of them were for 
 ward to seek his acquaintance, and to pay him at 
 tention. His opinion was several times appealed 
 to, and he gave it with equal modesty and good 
 sense. Among the guests was a nephew of the 
 Mayor's, a young man of large fortune, named 
 Splash. He tried to engage several persons in 
 conversation concerning the feats of the celebrated 
 man-fly at one of the minor theatres, but nobody 
 seemed to sympathize with his admiration, and 
 Splash at length found himself so completely a ci 
 pher, amid the interchange of intellectual wealth, 
 that, after emptying a bottle of champagne, he re 
 tired to the sofa and soon began to snore in a man-
 
 WHICH MAKES THE MAN? 167 
 
 ner that obliged his uncle to advise him to retire 
 to a sleeping apartment. 
 
 Returning home soon after twilight, Harry was 
 presented by Emmeline with the following letter 
 from Mr. Wainbridge, which had been left at the 
 door by Sim Lewis : 
 
 " My DEAR HARRY : It has given me the sin- 
 cerest gratification to hear of your brilliant success 
 at the meeting last night. For a time I have for 
 gotten my own griefs in my pleasure at hearing 
 from all quarters the praises of my old pupil. Go 
 on in your honorable career. The trials and dis 
 comfitures, through which you have fought your 
 way, have been to your intellectual and moral 
 character, what the exercises of the gymnasium 
 are to the athlete. You have trained yourself for the 
 conflict ; and, with the blessing of God, may now go 
 forth boldly into the arena, with a bright conscience 
 for your shield, and knowledge and an enlightened 
 reason for your weapons. I received your kind 
 letter of inquiry by Lewis. The information he 
 gave you in regard to me is, to a certain extent, 
 correct. I transmitted to London not long since, 
 through a person whom I believed trustworthy, a 
 sum of money, the accumulation of laborious years 
 in this country. It was directed to my wife, and 
 sent for the purpose of enabling her and my daugh 
 ter to join me in the United States. The reply 
 received has been a letter, ostensibly from Mrs. 
 Wainbridge, in which she says, or is made to say, 
 that being now entitled to a divorce in consequence 
 of our protracted separation, she had concluded to 
 avail herself of the privilege ; and that it was her in 
 tention to unite herself in marriage with a nobleman
 
 168 WEALTH AND WORTH ; OR, 
 
 of distinguished rank. She thanks me for the mo 
 ney that I sent, and promises to devote it to the edu 
 cation of my child ; and concludes by advising me 
 to form at once a matrimonial connexion in Ameri 
 ca more suitable to my station and prospects in 
 life than my first unfortunate alliance. You may 
 imagine my emotions, my dear Harry, on reading 
 this extraordinary communication. The hand 
 writing is of a character to allay all suspicion as 
 to its genuineness. I have compared it with that 
 of several letters from my wife in my possession, 
 and the accordance is perfect. But the internal 
 evidence tends to persuade me that it is a forgery. 
 Never, till I hear it from her own lips, will I be 
 convinced that she could have penned so heartless 
 an epistle. I am now hoarding up my little in 
 come to enable me to revisit England. My anxi 
 ety to return is so intense as to take away my ap 
 petite and affect my health. But my best pupils 
 have left me for college, and money comes slowly 
 in. A year may pass, without my having the 
 means to go. Let us hope for the best, however, 
 my dear young friend. And speaking of hope, 
 how is Emmeline, with her ' eyes of tender gloom' 
 and her flute-like voice ? Tell her to recollect me 
 kindly. Remember me also to your mother, and 
 believe me ever, come weal, come wo, your sin 
 cere friend, 
 
 " STANLEY WAINBRIDGE." 
 
 Immediately on perusing this letter, Harry 
 placed it in his pocket, and left the house to pay 
 a visit to Mr. Brown. 
 
 " A hard case, a very hard case, truly," said Mr. 
 Brown, as Harry concluded his narration of Mr.
 
 WHICH MAKES THE MAN? 169 
 
 Wainbridge's story. '' I think I remember Mr. 
 Wainbridge a grave, intelligent-looking young 
 man was he not ? What can we do for him ? 
 Humph ! Let me consider. I have it ! Tom 
 Asterly, who has been appointed bearer of de 
 spatches to the court of St. James, and who ought 
 to start by the next English steam-ship, is lying ill 
 at the Globe, and will be unable to go. I will write 
 on to my friend the Secretary of State at once, and 
 request him to transfer the commission to Wain- 
 bridge. It shall be done." 
 
 And it was done ; and, three days afterward, 
 Harry accompanied his former tutor in a carriage 
 to the foot of Pike-street, and saw him embark in 
 the Great Western for Bristol. Wainbridge waved 
 a mute farewell from the deck. His gratitude was 
 too deep for words. 
 
 15
 
 170 WEALTH AND WORTH ; OR, 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 " There is no trace of thee around, 
 
 Beloved ! in this abode ; 
 The winds sweep o'er the silent ground, 
 Where once thy footsteps trode." MRS. NORTOIf. 
 
 WHAT revolutions in individual affairs as well as 
 national may three years bring about! The lapse 
 of that space of time in the life of Henry Mave 
 rick, since the period of his entering upon the 
 practice of his profession, found him in circum 
 stances, if not of affluence, of pecuniary compe 
 tence and independence. He had removed with 
 his sister and mother to a neat house in Waverley 
 Place. His society, and of course that of his 
 family, were once more sought after by the weal 
 thy and fashionable with solicitude. Emmeline's 
 rare beauty and accomplishments had made her 
 unambitiously and unconsciously a belle, and the 
 very infrequency of her attendance at balls and 
 parties, increased the sensation of her presence 
 when she appeared. In the character of Mrs. 
 Maverick, adversity had wrought a radical change. 
 She had learned the true value of worldly dis 
 play, and the hollowness of merely fashionable 
 and conventional friendships. With her daughter 
 she would now often revisit the scenes where 
 they had experienced privation, and dispense her 
 charities with a judicious hand. She had found 
 friends in the humbler walks of life during her ad-
 
 WHICH MAKES THE MAN ? 171 
 
 versity, and these she did not forget, when bright 
 er fortunes began to dawn. Religion was now her 
 cheering guide and her open-eyed counsellor. 
 
 Harry's partner, Mr. Trane, had availed him 
 self of his change of circumstances to transplant 
 a whole colony of poor relations to the city. As 
 they were, without exception, shrewd, thrifty 
 people, he soon had the satisfaction of seeing them 
 rising in the world, while to him they looked up 
 as to a common benefactor. 
 
 It was in August, a month when our eastern cli 
 mate is deliciously clear and uniform, that Henry 
 Maverick, having an important case to attend to in 
 Boston, visited that place with his mother and sis 
 ter. A verdict was rendered in his client's favor. 
 His business was accomplished. Why did the 
 young lawyer still delay, receiving, as he daily did, 
 letters from his partner, begging him to return, as 
 there was an accumulation of business that de 
 manded his attention ? 
 
 One fair sunny day, Harry entered a private 
 parlor at the Tremont House, where his mother 
 and sister were sitting. Emmeline was perusing 
 a newspaper of the morning ; and her brother 
 noticed, as he glanced at her, that something of 
 more than ordinary interest had excited her atten 
 tion, for her eyes kindled, and her cheek flushed 
 as she read. 
 
 " What is the news, Emmeline ?" 
 
 " Listen," replied she, " to the praises of one of 
 your friends : ' A letter from Florence, published 
 in the London Athenaeum, states that a young 
 American sculptor named Clare is attracting great 
 attention by his productions. His studio is daily 
 thronged by people of taste. An exquisite bust
 
 172 
 
 WEALTH AND WORTH ; OR, 
 
 of the Countess Montelli from his chisel has been 
 pronounced, by the great Thorwalsden, masterly 
 both in execution and design. An English noble 
 man of wealth has ordered busts in marble of his 
 whole family, which will give the young artist lu 
 crative employment for some time !' " 
 
 " I thank you," said Harry, " for the interest 
 you take in ' one of my friends,' my dear. Of 
 course it is a subject of great indifference to you. 
 That is easily seen. Seriously, I am rejoiced to 
 hear of Theodore's success. Let me look at the 
 newspaper. Why, Emmeline, you have overlook 
 ed another item, hardly less interesting : ' From 
 the London Morning Post The examination into 
 the conduct of Sir William Ormsby, accused of 
 cheating at cards at Crockford's, has resulted in a 
 report inculpatory of that unfortunate nobleman. 
 He is distinctly proved to have been guilty of the 
 baseness, and has of course been compelled to 
 disgorge the immense sums which he recently 
 won from young Fitznoodle. Sir William left 
 yesterday for the continent. We learn that in 
 consequence of his dishonorable conduct, his ma 
 ternal' uncle, John Bullion, Esq., who recently ar 
 rived in this country from Calcutta, has expunged 
 his name from his will, leaving his immense pro 
 perty to Mrs. Wainbridge, a sister of Sir William, 
 and wife of Stanley Wainbridge, Esq., whose 
 mathematical works have excited some attention 
 among scholars. There is a tale of family perse 
 cution and tyranny, involved in the history of the 
 now fortunate pair, which it is hardly proper to lay 
 before the public.' News enough for one day ! Is 
 it not, Emmeline ?" 
 
 " And what pleasant news too ! I am delighted
 
 WHICH MAKES THE MAN 1 173 
 
 at Wainbridge's good fortune. How I would like 
 to see one of his busts !" 
 
 "I wasn't aware that my friend Wainbridge 
 had talents that way. How long has he practised 
 the art ?" 
 
 " Oh, I was thinking of you know who I 
 meant." 
 
 " It is my turn now," said Mrs. Maverick, " to 
 look at the newspaper. I wonder if I can hit upon 
 anything strange or interesting. Listen to this : 
 ' The Confucius, which arrived at this port yes 
 terday from Canton, brings information that the 
 Whampoa, Captain Linzee, was to sail the week 
 following the date of her departure. Mr. Clare, of 
 the American house of Barrow, Clare, & Co., had 
 taken passage for this port in the latter ship, which 
 may now be daily expected.' That interests you, 
 Harry ; does it not V 
 
 " Yes, I know of no one I would like better to 
 see than Edwin Clare. And now, mother, if you 
 have no more astonishing news to read to us, we 
 will get ready for a drive to Nahant." 
 
 The proposal was joyfully acceded to. Em- 
 meline had never seen Nahant. How she enjoy 
 ed the novel scene, as, in an open barouche, they 
 were borne over the smooth, wet sand, which glit 
 tered like a mirror beneath the horses' feet ! Leav 
 ing his mother and sister at the hotel in the society 
 of -some acquaintances, Harry engaged a saddle- 
 horse, and rode at full speed in the direction of 
 Capeville. As he approached the little cottage, 
 once occupied by the Clares, he drew in his bri 
 dle, and proceeded at a gentler pace. How fa 
 miliar and unchanged everything seemed ! More 
 than six crowded years had rolled by since his 
 15*
 
 174 WEALTH AND WORTH J OR, 
 
 transient visit to that spot ; yet how vivid was 
 every recollection connected with it ! There was 
 the slight curve in the road, where he had first 
 seen Ellen Clare, " on a bright spring morning, long 
 ago." There was the old apple-tree ; and there 
 the very twig, where a blue-bird had alighted, 
 which he had pointed out to his companion. The 
 cottage too seemed unaltered, save that the blinds 
 and windows were closed, and no sign of any in 
 mates appeared. 
 
 Harry dismounted with a beating heart, and, al 
 lowing his horse to crop the grass that grew rank 
 along the side of the fence, he passed through the 
 little "front yard," andknocked with his riding-whip 
 at the door. No one answered his summons. It 
 was evident that the house was vacated. Look 
 ing back over the road by which he had passed, 
 he beheld a female at some distance, watching his 
 movements with intense interest. The ribands of 
 her cap were streaming in the wind. A red shawl 
 was flung with a carelessness by no means pic 
 turesque about her neck ; and a pair of shears 
 swung at her girdle. 
 
 Hoping to obtain some information from this per 
 son, in regard to the object of his search, Harry 
 remounted his horse, to seek an interview. The 
 female fled. He followed, however, at a fast trot, 
 and saw her scud into a little shop by the way-side. 
 Tying his horse at a neighboring post, he entered 
 the shop. The mysterious figure in the red shawl 
 was no less a person than our old acquaintance, 
 Miss Snim, who, in consequence of her inordinate 
 passion for attending to everybody's business but 
 her own, had, since we last met her, grown some
 
 WHICH MAKES THE MAN ? 175 
 
 seven years older without becoming richer by a 
 dollar. 
 
 " Well, I guess you didn't find her in, did you 1" 
 said Miss Snim, as Harry made his appearance. 
 
 " Your surmise is correct," replied Harry. " I 
 wish you to give me all the information in your 
 possession in regard to her. The last time I heard 
 of her, she was living at the cottage in the family 
 of a Mr. Williams, a clergyman." 
 
 " You needn't tell me that. I know all about it. 
 You saw her younger brother in New York." 
 
 " Where is she now ?" 
 
 " How should I know ? You had better ask 
 Zeke Stillwood, or Eben Jones, or some other one 
 of her beaus." 
 
 " What a becoming cap that is of yours, Miss 
 Snim ! but why do you wear it ? Will it not be 
 time enough twenty years hence to don such a 
 matronly head-dress ?" 
 
 " La, now, do you really think so, sir ? I have 
 often thought of throwing it by altogether." 
 
 " Do it, by all means, Miss Snim. When you 
 get to be forty you may begin to think of such 
 things. I was hoping you could give me some 
 little information in regard to Miss Clare, as I take 
 an interest in the family. But I see you are ig 
 norant" 
 
 " Ignorant ! Pray sit down, sir. I will tell you 
 all I know, and to be sure that isn't much. Well : 
 after she had fitted out Theodore and seen him off, 
 she came back to Capeville with just thirty-three 
 dollars sixty-seven and a half cents in her pocket- 
 book, which was all she had in the world. With 
 what she earned at straw-platting, she made this 
 last her a couple of years, paying her board and sub-
 
 176 WEALTH AND WORTH J OR, 
 
 scribing one dollar thirty-three cents and three 
 quarters to the Dorcas Society. But a new fash 
 ion of bonnets comes up last year, and straw-plat 
 ting gets to be a poor business, and then poorer and 
 poorer, until no work was to be had. Nell's purse 
 began to get pretty light, and she was thinking 
 last month of letting herself out as help, when who 
 should come to Capeville, but" 
 
 " But well ? Why do you stop ? Go on ! go 
 ot good woman." 
 
 " Good woman indeed ! I would have you to 
 know, sir" 
 
 " Indeed, Miss Snim, I beg your pardon most 
 humbly. You are not a good woman. It was my 
 grandmother that was. Pray continue your narra 
 tive. ' When who should come to Capeville, 
 but?'" 
 
 " But Mr. Williams's son from some place away 
 off, west of sundown Iowa, I think they call it. 
 That's neither here nor there, however." 
 " Well, well ! Mr. Williams's son" 
 " Why, what does he come here for, but to take 
 his father and mother and his sisters and brothers, 
 bag and baggage, out to Iowa, where he has a 
 whole town of his own, with a grist-mill and every 
 thing comfortable. Well : finding a pretty girl, 
 like Ellen though as for the matter of beauty, I 
 must say, I could never see anything so mighty 
 superior about her ; and I shall believe to my dy 
 ing day, that there was something besides nat'ral 
 color" 
 
 " We will not stop to discuss that point now, 
 Miss Snim. What of Williams V 
 
 " What should he do but fall in love with Nell, 
 and offer himself
 
 WHICH MAKES THE MAN ? 177 
 
 " She didn't accept him 1 No, no ! I am sure 
 she didn't : she never could think of accepting 
 such a fellow as Williams ; a vulgar, ill-looking" 
 
 " So ! You have seen him ?" 
 
 " No. Perhaps I do him injustice ?" 
 
 " Indeed you do. He is a very nice-looking 
 young man, I can tell you ; and Miss Nell may 
 think herself lucky enough, if she gets him. Be 
 sides, he's well off in the world, and" 
 
 " But tell me directly, without any more circum 
 locution, are they married ? Are they engaged ?" 
 
 " How should I know ?" 
 
 " What has become of her ? Tell me, or I'll 
 Tell me, that's a dear girl." 
 
 Miss Snim was propitiated by the last mono 
 syllable, and replied : " All I know is, that the 
 whole family, Ellen with them, went off, about a 
 month ago, to Boston, since which I haven't been, 
 able to trace any of their movements." 
 
 " But do you really think that Ellen consented 
 to marry that fellow Williams ?" 
 
 " I do indeed. What could she expect better ? 
 Here she was, a lonely girl, with but five dollars 
 in her pocket-book, after paying her last week's 
 board, and nothing to look forward to but going 
 into somebody's kitchen for a living. A very 
 sensible thing it would be for her to reject such 
 an offer, to be sure !" 
 
 Harry groaned almost audibly, as Miss Snim 
 have utterance to this not unreasonable conviction ; 
 and handing her a dollar, with the request that 
 she would contribute it in her own name to the 
 Dorcas Society, he sprang once more upon the 
 saddle, and, in no very enviable frame of mind, 
 rode back to Nahant. I am credibly informed,
 
 178 
 
 WEALTH AND WORTH ; OR, 
 
 that on his way he was guilty of the following 
 sonnet a dereliction which, as a faithful chroni 
 cler, I must record. Harry Maverick ! When 
 will you learn to put by childish things ? I am 
 almost disposed to give you up after this : 
 
 " Brief was our meeting ; and my heart knew not 
 How deep the impress of thy image lay. 
 Long silent years since then have lapsed away, 
 
 And I have toiled to reach a fairer lot 
 
 In the stern struggle, tenderer hopes forgot ! 
 But now, the dawn of a diviner day 
 Has waked the patient statue with its ray, 
 
 And clothed with bloom the once abandoned spot. 
 Love, from his fetters breaking, looks for thee ! 
 
 Where art thou, maiden of the earnest eyes ? 
 
 I seek thy humble cot no voice replies, 
 
 Save the hoarse murmur of the neighboring sea, 
 And the low rustle of thy favorite tree, 
 
 Chiming an echo to my own heart's sighs !" 
 
 Well ! we must bear with such foibles. Who 
 knows but he may be struck poetical himself some 
 day? 
 
 That evening the Mavericks returned to Boston, 
 and it was agreed, in family conclave, that they 
 should tarry a brief time longer in the tri-moun- 
 tainous city.
 
 WHICH MAKES THE MAN? 179 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 " Call me a fool ; 
 
 Trust not my reading, nor my observations, 
 If this sweet lady lie not guiltless here 
 Under some biting error." 
 
 SHAKSPEARE. 
 
 THE sound of music and dancing from one of 
 the most elegant private mansions in Boston, pro 
 claimed that a ball of some magnitude was in pro 
 gress. Carriage after carriage would stop before 
 the door, yield up its daintily dressed inmates, and 
 roll away. Notwithstanding the season was one, 
 when those, whom leisure and affluence permit, 
 generally forsake the dust and heat of the city for 
 the pleasures of the country, there was a large as 
 semblage of what a coxcomb would call " the right 
 sort of people" at Mrs. Marbury's. As the ball 
 was given in honor principally of the Mavericks, 
 Harry and his sister were of course present. He 
 had the evening before addressed a large political 
 meeting, and won the favorable opinions of his 
 audience by his animated and graceful style of 
 eloquence. The newspapers of the day were 
 prolific in his praises. He was, not unmeritedly, 
 the observed of all observers, for the moment, in 
 society. A knowledge of his brief but brilliant 
 career stimulated the general curiosity to see and 
 hear him. 
 
 At the ball, however, he was far from being in
 
 180 WEALTH AND WORTH ; OR, 
 
 a mood to enjoy festivity. His thoughts would 
 wander to other objects and other scenes. He 
 seemed to have lost the faculty, which usually 
 distinguished him, of concentrating his attention 
 upon minute topics as well as great of catching, 
 ere it faded, "the Cynthia of the minute." He was 
 dreaming of Ellen Clare rebuking himself for 
 not having made earlier inquiries in regard to her 
 fate. She was now, in all probability, the wife of 
 Williams, and on her way to the far west, to make 
 happy some log cabin in the wilderness. Hang 
 Williams ! Why couldn't she have waited a little 
 longer ? Why need she have been in such a haste 
 to get married ? Well : were there not maidens 
 as fair 1 Look at those now whirling in the giddy 
 waltz, to the sound of delightful tunes from the 
 last new opera. Pshaw ! Is that a place to look 
 to for a wife 1 
 
 " Do you not dance, Mr. Maverick ?" said a 
 delicate voice at his side. 
 
 " I must be excused this evening, Miss Am well. 
 Indeed, I do not waltz at any time." 
 
 " Is it possible ? I thought that the waltz was 
 the only allowable dance now at your New York 
 assemblies. I hope you have no primitive notions 
 as to its impropriety ?" 
 
 " I entertain most decided objections to it." 
 
 " Then it is because you cannot waltz. You 
 have never practised it, or it makes you dizzy ? 
 Did you ever hear of a good waltzer's finding fault 
 with the practice ?" 
 
 " I have seen many a good waltzer, who, how 
 ever fond he might be of the exercise himself, was 
 made very uncomfortable when the lady to whom 
 he was attached accepted an invitation to join in
 
 WHICH MAKES THE MAN 1 181 
 
 
 
 it from another gentleman. I consider it an im 
 modest dance." 
 
 " Honi soit qui mat y pense Evil to him who 
 evil thinks. It is the idea attached to it, and not 
 the practice itself, that is culpable." 
 
 " But is not the practice father of the idea ? I 
 am aware that habit and education will make in 
 nocent, manners and modes of dress, that in cer 
 tain states of society would be considered inde 
 cent. The female of the South Sea Islands has 
 as nice a sense of modesty as the most fastidious 
 lady of our acquaintance, and yet the South Sea 
 Islander would be arrested as a lunatic should she 
 appear in our streets in the costume of her coun 
 try. But all those conventional observances, with 
 in which modesty is fenced, in civilized society, 
 seem to me hostile to the waltz. It is an anomaly. 
 Its tendency is impure." 
 
 " You will consider me very courageous or very 
 impracticable, if, after your homily, I accept an in 
 vitation for the next waltz will you not ?" 
 
 " It would be presumption in me to suppose that 
 I had made you a convert to my doctrine so soon." 
 
 " I am afraid to hear any more of your arguments, 
 lest I should falter in my fealty to the waltz the 
 incomparable waltz. What a pretty girl is your 
 sister ! How very devoted is Mr. Smug ! He is 
 not an admirable Crichton, but then he is what I 
 fear is more attractive to many of our young la 
 dies a millionaire. I hear he has a fine cage in 
 your city, all gilt, and ready for a singing-bird. By 
 the way, Mr. Maverick, there is a whisper con 
 cerning yourself about the room, which, I am half 
 inclined to suspect is true." 
 
 " What is it ?" 
 
 16
 
 182 WEALTH AND WORTH; OR, 
 
 " They say that you are here after a wife. Can 
 it be that you are so unfashionable as to think of 
 matrimony ?" 
 
 *' Of what else should one think in Miss Arn- 
 well's presence ?" retorted Harry, bowing and 
 moving away, as another gentleman came up to 
 address the lady. 
 
 " Miss Danton of New York," said Mrs. Mar- 
 bury, introducing a lady, showily dressed in white 
 satin trimmed with silver cords and tassels. 
 
 " We have met before, if I recollect," said Miss 
 Danton. 
 
 " That is a circumstance which I have not the 
 bad taste to forget," replied Harry, who remem 
 bered having seen her often at Eagleswood, when 
 " hollow fortune called him favorite." 
 
 " How delightful to renew the acquaintance 
 ships of our early years," sighed Miss Danton, 
 who, having heard that Harry had a dash of poetry 
 in his composition, had resolved to commence 
 storming the citadel at one of its weak points. 
 
 " Very delightful !" quoth Harry. 
 
 " Pray have you heard the shocking news about 
 poor Arabella Hard worth ?" 
 
 " No. What is it ?" 
 
 " Why, that Count Caperelli, whom she has mar 
 ried, turns out to be an English prize-fighter, the 
 son of a Jewish dealer in old clothes in Monmouth- 
 street." 
 
 " No matter. The count waltzes enchantingly, 
 and is a capital judge of Burgundy." 
 
 " You are misanthropic to-night." 
 
 " What has become of our old acquaintance Miss 
 Sumpter ?" 
 
 " Have you not heard ? It is really too provok-
 
 WHICH MAKES THE MAN ? 183 
 
 ing. She married young Ermine her mother be 
 lieving him to be abundantly rich. But it turns 
 out that he has squandered all his immense prop 
 erty, and is now actually dependant upon his 
 mother-in-law, without a profession, and with habits 
 of expense which he hasn't sense enough to con 
 trol. He is, moreover, intemperate, and takes lit 
 tle interest in anything but horse-racing." 
 
 " The Sumpters thought more of wealth than 
 worth. They are reaping the consequence." 
 
 " By the way, your old enemy, Ravenstone 
 Hardworth, is here to-night." 
 
 "Indeed!" 
 
 " Yes. Do you not see him talking to the lady 
 in blue ? That is Miss Van Rapp, to whom he 
 is engaged. They have been on a visit to Nahant. 
 The lady is wealthy ; there is a rumor, however, 
 that old Hardworth has lost largely by the depre 
 ciation of United States Bank stock. You are 
 aware that he has sold Eagleswood ?" 
 
 " Not at all. You are better than a newspaper, 
 Miss Danton." 
 
 Here a young gentleman with very white kid 
 gloves on his hand, a very flashy waistcoat, and 
 very tight pantaloons, came up and begged the 
 honor of Miss Danton's hand for a cotillon. The 
 lady looked at Harry, as if to ask, Shall I not tell 
 him I am engaged to you ? But Harry did not 
 seem disposed to encourage any such deception, 
 and the lady, with evident reluctance, permitted 
 herself to be led away. Harry took his seat upon 
 a tabouret in the recess of one of the windows, 
 and, while the scene of gayety went on before his 
 eyes, allowed his perplexed thoughts to wander 
 back to his few brief interviews with one, whose
 
 184 WEALTH AND WORTH; OR, 
 
 image rose to his memory far brighter than any of 
 the living faces which reality now presented. The 
 next day he was to return to New York ' He 
 must then abandon all hope of seeing her. Of 
 seeing whom ? her, who was probably Mrs. Wil 
 liams by this time ! Bitter was the supposition '. 
 
 For nearly an hour, Harry retained his solitary 
 seat, shaded partly from observation by one of the 
 thick muslin curtains that were festooned before 
 the window. The cessation of the music roused 
 him from his re very. He started up. The last 
 of the dancers were leaving the apartment. His 
 glance fell on the white marble hearth. Some 
 thing like a spark of fire attracted his notice. No, 
 it was the glitter of a gem. Stooping, he picked 
 up a diamond breast-pin. Who could have drop 
 ped it 1 There was an inscription on the gold. It 
 consisted of the initials, " H. V. R." It must be 
 long to Miss Van Rapp, whom he had seen stand 
 ing by the fire-place. 
 
 Hastening to find the owner of the jewel, Har 
 ry entered the supper-room. It was occupied 
 chiefly by young men, who were busily engaged at 
 a table spread with various wines and viands. 
 
 " Come in, Maverick. Here is a capital pate de 
 foie gras." 
 
 " Allow me the pleasure of a glass of wine with 
 you, Maverick. Do you take Burgundy or cham 
 pagne ?" 
 
 " Will you not try some Charlotte Russe or some 
 ice ?" 
 
 " Away with your sillabub dishes ! Try these 
 woodcocks, Maverick." 
 
 " Here is some of Marbury's Charleston Ma-
 
 WHICH MAKES THE MAN ? 185 
 
 delta. Taste it, Maverick, if you would know what 
 nectar is." 
 
 To all these invitations, Maverick replied : " I 
 am in search of a lady to restore a jewel she has 
 dropped. You must excuse me." And he hur 
 ried up stairs to the room where the ladies were 
 resuming their shawls to return home. As he 
 knocked at the door, he heard the shrill voice of 
 Miss Van Rapp exclaim : " I am sure I left it pin 
 ned upon the scarf thrown into my calash ; and if, 
 as you say, no other servant but yourself has been 
 in the room, I must hold you accountable for the 
 theft." 
 
 " I will stake my life on her truth," said the 
 sweet musical voice of Emmeline Maverick, in 
 reply. " Is it not far more probable, Miss Van 
 Rapp, that you dropped the jewel by the way, or 
 that you did not bring it with you ?" 
 
 " Nonsense ! Ravenstone assures me that he 
 saw it about my person before we left the Tremont 
 House. The interest you profess to take in this 
 young person shall not screen her from justice. If 
 she persists in denying her knowledge of the theft, 
 we must summon a police-officer to inquire into 
 the business. The diamond is worth a hundred 
 dollars, and I have no idea of giving it up out of 
 any sentimental whim." 
 
 ** You suspect her wrongfully," exclaimed Em 
 meline, with unwonted animation. " Can you not 
 discern innocence from guilt?" 
 
 " Yes, I can ; and if she didn't stand there look 
 ing me in the face, bold as a princess, without 
 speaking a word, I might think my suspicion was 
 erroneous. But she would never be so cool and 
 quiet, were she not a hardened offender. Come, 
 16*
 
 186 WEALTH AND WORTH; OR, 
 
 girl, give me back the jewel, and we will ask Mrs. 
 Marbury to pardon you." 
 
 "Are you quite certain, my dear Miss Van 
 Rapp," said the soft, indecisive voice of Mrs. Mar- 
 bury " are you quite certain that you left the jew 
 el in your calash 1" 
 
 " I am positive, madam, quite positive ; for it 
 was only last week that I committed the same im 
 prudence ; and I remember perfectly taking the 
 jewel out of its casket this evening." 
 
 " I am unwilling to suspect my maid of taking 
 it. She came to me not more than a month since 
 with the highest recommendations from a respect 
 able country clergyman. I think you must be mis 
 taken." 
 
 " Here is the scarf to which I left it pinned. No 
 other servant has been in the room. The circum 
 stances will warrant my having a police officer 
 here," said Miss Van Rapp, who hoped to frighten 
 the accused girl into a confession. 
 
 Unwilling to intrude into the apartment of the 
 ladies, Harry stood knocking at the door, but the 
 din of voices within was now such that nobody 
 attended to his summons. 
 
 " You persist in denying having taken it, do 
 you ?" exclaimed Miss Van Rapp. 
 
 " I have condescended to deny it once," said the 
 low, firm voice of the accused, " and I now deny 
 it again. If you choose to presume so far upon 
 my unprotected situation as to insult me further, 
 I shall answer no more of your questions, but 
 await the legal investigation which you threaten." 
 
 " What is your name ?" 
 
 " Ellen Clare." 
 
 At the first sound of Ellen's voice, Maverick
 
 WHICH MAKES THE MAN ? 187 
 
 had been struck with an emotion which was un 
 intelligible ; but when the name fell upon his ear, 
 his heart beat so violently, that he was obliged to 
 wait a moment at the door to rally his energies. 
 
 " I think I will go for an officer," said Raven- 
 stone Hardworth, whom Harry had not imagined 
 to be in the room. 
 
 Pushing open the door, Maverick now entered 
 without any further ceremony. The first object his 
 glance fell upon was Ellen Clare, supported, by 
 Emmeline. The face of the accused was pale, 
 but the fire of conscious truth was in her eyes, ir 
 radiating every feature. As she saw Maverick, a 
 visible change came over her entire aspect. The 
 color returned to her cheeks. A smile of welcome 
 played upon her lips. She seemed to have forgot 
 ten wholly the disagreeable scene through which 
 she had just passed, and started to receive his 
 proffered hand, as if it were a link to old memo 
 ries of joy and sunshine. 
 
 " What is the meaning of all this ?" muttered 
 Hardworth, raising his eye-glass. 
 
 " You shall see, sir," replied Maverick, as, ad 
 vancing, he addressed Miss Van Rapp : " Here 
 is a breast-pin which I picked up three minutes 
 since in the room where you last danced. Have 
 the goodness to see if it is the one you have 
 missed." 
 
 " To be sure it is. I am vastly obliged thank 
 you, Mr. Maverick." 
 
 A general exclamation of surprise, indignation, 
 and rejoicing was heard from the different ladies 
 in the room. 
 
 " I thought you must be in error in accusing 
 Ellen," said Mrs. Marbury, mildly.
 
 188 WEALTH AND WORTH; OR, 
 
 " O, it was very natural, under the circumstan 
 ces, that I should suspect her was it not, Raven- 
 stone ?" returned Miss Van Rapp. 
 
 " Certainly, my dear," replied Ravenstone. 
 
 " Shame ! shame ! Ask her pardon," exclaim 
 ed several voices. " Apologize !" 
 
 " Apologize to her ? You are joking, good peo 
 ple," said Miss Van Rapp, petulantly. 
 
 " She sinned against bright heaven, and violated 
 its^sacred signet, in accusing her," said Henry 
 Maverick ; " and she has not the grace to acknowl 
 edge her crime." 
 
 " Crime ! You shall answer for this language, 
 sir," exclaimed Hardworth. 
 
 " I think I remember you, sir," said Maverick, 
 folding his arms behind him, as if for the purpose 
 of keeping them out of the way of mischief, as he 
 advanced. 
 
 " You shall have further cause to remember 
 me," replied Hardworth, with bitterness of tone, 
 but falling back as if from an instinctive apprehen 
 sion that his old antagonist was about to handle 
 him roughly. 
 
 Harry returned once more to Ellen, and took 
 her by the hand. 
 
 " The gentleman seems on remarkably familiar 
 terms, considering she is a nursery-maid," remark 
 ed Miss Van Rapp, with a forced, disagreeable 
 laugh. 
 
 " Yes, miss, and I wish that you were on the 
 same terms with good-breeding," said Maverick. 
 " But to show you how far my familiarity is min 
 gled with admiration and respect, I here declare 
 myself a suiter for the young lady's hand." 
 
 Poor Ellen had sustained herself up to this time
 
 WHICH MAKES THE MAN? 189 
 
 with the heroism of a martyr, but this avowal, sud 
 den, unexpected, and yet delightful as it was, 
 overcame her so far, that with a slight exclama 
 tion of surprise, she sank insensible into the arm 
 it was Emmeline's that encircled her waist. 
 
 I have always said that Maverick was an im 
 pulsive fellow, and his conduct on this occasion, 
 convinces me that I was right. Why couldn't he 
 have waited till the company were gone ? Why 
 need he make so delicate a declaration so abrupt 
 ly and so publicly ? Possibly there were young 
 ladies present, who had designs of their own upon 
 his heart. What a shock to them, as well as to 
 the elected one, must his extraordinary avowal 
 have been ! I will not attempt the slightest pal 
 liation of his conduct. I agree with my respecta 
 ble aunt, Miss Fossil, that it was " decidedly in 
 bad taste." To be sure, it involved no moral ob 
 liquity. But, it has always struck me, there was 
 something in it theatrical and melodramatic. I 
 may do Harry injustice, but this is my opinion, 
 and, as a candid biographer, I do not hesitate to 
 express it. I am credibly informed, however, that 
 the scene was, at the time, a hit. It took 
 everybody by surprise, and was followed by a 
 murmur of applause from all except Hardworth 
 and Miss Van Rapp. Several ladies among the 
 audience were affected to tears. I can believe 
 it. Young ladies are apt to be captivated by a dis 
 play of generous enthusiasm ; and, where there is 
 a dash of romance in the exhibition, as in the pre 
 sent case, so much the more ardent is their sym 
 pathy. But sober people, like aunt Fossil and 
 myself, can only shake their heads at such rhapso-
 
 190 WEALTH AND WORTH, OR, 
 
 dies, and thank their stars that they have arrived 
 at years of discretion. 
 
 The day after the ball, three little incidents occur 
 red which it may be well to record in this place : 
 Edwin Clare arrived from Canton Henry Mav 
 erick was united in marriage to Ellen Clare and, 
 two hours afterward, a challenge was received by 
 the bridegroom from Ravenstone Hardworth. 
 
 Edwin Clare had returned in fine health and 
 spirits. Still he had not been fortunate in busi 
 ness. The house of Barrow & Clare had been 
 embarrassed for a time in consequence of a sudden 
 and unlooked-for fall in teas. But what of that ? 
 He had come to settle with their creditors cent for 
 cent. No man was to be a loser by their misfor 
 tunes. The credit of the house would soon be re 
 vived, and a few prosperous seasons would make 
 them independent. At the Tremont House, Edwin 
 learned, to his surprise and gratification, that his 
 sister was to be married to his old friend and class 
 mate. What a grasp of the hand was that with 
 which he welcomed Henry Maverick ! 
 
 The wedding passed off gay ly. Ernmeline seem 
 ed thoroughly delighted with her new sister-in- 
 law ; and Mrs. Maverick manifested hardly less 
 satisfaction and pleasure. The bride was simply 
 attired in white. A few natural buds and flowers 
 were her only ornaments. To Harry's eyes she 
 seemed more charming than ever. Time had more 
 than confirmed the promises of girlhood. What a 
 preservative of beauty is a cheerful, contented, 
 hopeful, religious heart ! 
 
 " How happened it, Ellen," asked Harry, " that 
 you never consented to become Mrs. Williams ? 
 Such a fright as I got from your amiable friend,
 
 WHICH MAKES THE MAN? 191 
 
 Miss Snim ! She would not allow me a peg 
 whereon to hang a hope." 
 
 " How happened it, sir, that you had the assur 
 ance to proclaim yourself my suiter before so many 
 people, as if, forsooth, you thought it was an im 
 possibility for me to say ' no' to your offer ?" 
 
 " 1 could tell a tale about both of you," said Ed 
 win Clare, " which would prove that, by your own 
 confessions to me, some six years ago, each of you 
 had very decided designs upon the other, even so 
 far back as then." 
 
 " Do not betray secrets, brother." 
 
 The conversation was interrupted by a knock at 
 the door. A servant announced that a gentleman 
 wished to see Mr. Maverick immediately upon 
 private and important business. Harry went out, 
 and was encountered by a young man with a cane, 
 who handed him a note. Opening it he found it 
 to be an invitation from Hardworth to meet him 
 with pistols, at any time and place that might be 
 agreeable. 
 
 " Your friend is well aware that I am no duel 
 list," said Maverick, returning the note. 
 
 " Am I to understand that you decline giving 
 him satisfaction?" returned the young man. " A 
 written apology will answer his purpose, if you do 
 not wish to fight." 
 
 " I have no disposition to shoot him, and certain 
 ly none that he should shoot or maim me. Why 
 then should I fight ?" 
 
 " O, then you prefer to apologize ?" 
 
 " Certainly not ; for I could not conscientiously 
 do so." 
 
 " Are you aware of the consequences ?" 
 
 " Perhaps not."
 
 192 WEALTH AND WORTH J OR, 
 
 " You will be posted, sir, at the corners of the 
 streets as a poltroon." 
 
 " Well ?" 
 
 " You will be hooted from the society of gentle 
 men." 
 
 Well ?" 
 
 " You will be" 
 
 " Well ?" 
 
 " You will be spurned as I now spurn you," 
 concluded the young man, tapping him lightly with 
 his cane. 
 
 " Well 1 And now I will tell you what my own 
 course would be under those circumstances. The 
 posting at the corners of the streets I should not 
 notice, for if any persons wished to attest the truth 
 of the charge, they could do so, almost any pleas 
 ant day, in Broadway or Wall-street. The being 
 hooted from the society of gentlemen would be 
 much more tolerable than the loss of my own self- 
 respect or peace of mind ; and, inasmuch as it 
 would be quite questionable whether they were 
 gentlemen who would attempt such an incivility, 
 my equanimity would not be disturbed. As for 
 the spurning part of the business do you know 
 how I should answer that ?" 
 
 "By turning on your heels, most probably." 
 
 " No ; supposing the individual to have struck 
 me with his cane, as you did, " 
 
 " You would go into an argument touching the 
 propriety of non-resistance eh ?" 
 
 " No. I am sorry to say, I am not quite philoso 
 pher enough for that yet. There is so much of 
 the ' offending Adam' in me still, that, in all proba 
 bility, I should, in the first place, take away his 
 cane, thus !" And here Harry suited the action
 
 WHICH MAKES THE MAN? 193 
 
 to the word. " Then, I should thrust him on his 
 knees, thus ! Then, unless he sued for mercy, 
 I should be very likely to pitch him tenderly across 
 the street out of the way of my fists, thus ! For I 
 should be tempted and yet be loath to strike him. 
 But I beg pardon. I hope I have not hurt you. I 
 was merely showing you what would probably be 
 my course, under circumstances like those you 
 hinted at." 
 
 The young man rose, burning with shame and 
 anger, and said : " Give me my cane, sir." 
 
 " Certainly. It is too pretty a toy to break. 
 Look you. Nobody has been witness of this little 
 lesson ; and nobody shall hear of it from my lips. 
 Reflect a moment. Have you not been very fool 
 ish in undertaking this business ? And wouldn't 
 I have been still more foolish, if, on this my wed 
 ding-day, I had accepted an invitation which was 
 to subject me to the chance of having a bullet 
 lodged in my plexus or my heart ? I will not speak 
 of the divine mandate, ' Thou shall not kill ;' 
 though that is enough for me ; but will look with 
 merely worldly eyes on the subject. You are a 
 young man of spirit, sir, and ought to be one of 
 sense. Can you rationally object to my conduct ?" 
 
 " Mr. Maverick, I ask your pardon. You have 
 given me a wholesome lesson. Will you accept 
 my hand in friendship ?" 
 
 "Readily. Come into my parlor, and I will 
 make you acquainted with my wife and sister." 
 
 " I never dreamed that my mission would take 
 such a turn as this. I accept your invitation with 
 pleasure. Lead on." 
 
 " A pretty termination to my wedding-day it 
 would have been to have accepted a challenge ! 
 17
 
 194 
 
 WEALTH AND WORTH ; OK, 
 
 What are swords and pistols but children's toys, 
 after all ? Mark me, the time is coming when 
 they will be banished to the nursery, or be used 
 only in conflicts with wild beasts."
 
 WHICH MAKES THE MAN ? 195 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 M Now hag descended a serener hour, 
 And, with inconstant fortune, friends return." 
 
 SHELLEY. 
 
 AGAIN must I tax the imagination of my readers 
 to traverse space and time without regard to in 
 tervening distances and events. Three years have 
 elapsed. We will return to Eagleswood. Who 
 are now its tenants ? Perhaps we may pick up 
 some information in the library. 
 
 It is the morning of the fourth of July a clear, 
 radiant, and fragrant morning. The banks of the 
 river seem piled with verdure. Innumerable roses 
 are in bloom. The honeysuckle that twines about 
 the paling of the piazza is still wet with dew, and 
 the humming-bird, that feathere'd libertine, " to one 
 thing constant never," is busily quaffing the sweet 
 moisture from its cup. 
 
 In the library are Henry Maverick and his wife. 
 Along the piazza, before the windows, pass a youth 
 and maiden, arm in arm, seemingly absorbed in 
 conversation. The young man bears a striking 
 resemblance to our old acquaintance, Theodore 
 Clare. The lady is no other than Miss Emme- 
 line Maverick. A lawn slopes away just beyond 
 the piazza, and there, in the kindling sunshine, 
 stands an old, gray-headed negro, dressed in a 
 faded military uniform, with a cocked hat, and a
 
 196 WEALTH AND WORTH; OR, 
 
 burnished sword, that seems to have a mischiev 
 ous propensity to swing between its wearer's 
 knees, whenever he steps. Can it be that old 
 Mingo is yet alive ? A dog follows in his train. 
 Is it Hotspur ? That is his name. But it is not 
 the Hotspur of old ; though a not unworthy de 
 scendant of that respectable quadruped, whose 
 fate should be a warning to all dogs of roving ha 
 bits. While trotting up Chatham-street one day, 
 he was knocked on the head by a dog-killer. He 
 died full of years and honors, just as his faculties 
 were beginning to give way before the assaults 
 of time. 
 
 Not far from where General Mingo, with mar 
 tial suavity, is bowing to everybody who catches 
 his eye, is a matronly lady, who leads a bright- 
 eyed, auburn-haired child. These are the elder 
 Mrs. Maverick and her little grand-daughter Mary, 
 who has been named after her. The little one is 
 trying to sing a song, which her aunt Emmeline 
 has taught her : 
 
 " We will flit as bright as spring, 
 We will naught but pleasure bring, 
 We will teach the world to be 
 Happy, blithe, and gay as we !" 
 
 Sauntering through the wide gravelled walks of 
 the garden are two gentlemen, whom we have cer 
 tainly seen before. One is Mr. Trane. I know 
 him by his height, and his peculiar stoop. The 
 other has been bronzed by foreign suns. His fine, 
 compact figure and his firm step are not unfamiliar. 
 It is Edwin Clare, who, since we last saw him, 
 has been to China again and returned. He has 
 retrieved his former reverses through the extraor-
 
 WHICH MAKES THE MAN? 197 
 
 dinary rise of teas in consequence of the English 
 invasion. 
 
 The Mavericks returned but yesterday to their 
 ancient home. The estate had been suddenly 
 thrown into the market by the gentleman who had 
 taken it off of Hardworth's hands, and Harry re 
 purchased it upon easy terms. 
 
 " It is fortunate for me," said Maverick, who, 
 with his wife, was surveying the library " it is 
 fortunate for me, that neither Hardworth nor his 
 successor had a literary family. I should hardly 
 think these books had been touched since I saw 
 them last. Well do I remember the morning when 
 I took leave of them, as I supposed, for ever. Do 
 they not seem to smile a welcome back 1 Friend 
 Goldsmith, good morning ! 1 never see you with 
 out recalling the story of the feather-bed.* Addi- 
 son ! how are you ? I hope Sir Roger de Coverly 
 is well. Boswell ! I am charmed to see you. You 
 are the most gossiping, foolish, delightful, instruc 
 tive, entertaining, ridiculous fellow in the world. 
 
 * Mr. Maverick probably alludes to the following inci 
 dent, related by Irving : A friend calling on Goldsmith one 
 morning found him in bed, immersed to the chin in feathers. 
 A serio-comic story explained the circumstance. The pre 
 ceding evening he had met with a woman with five child 
 ren, who implored his charity. Her husband was in the 
 hospital, she a stranger, and destitute, without food or 
 shelter for her helpless offspring. This was too much for 
 the kind heart of Goldsmith. He was almost as poor as 
 herself, it is true, and had no money in his pocket. But he 
 brought her to the college gate, gave her the blankets from 
 his bed to cover her little brood, and part of his clothes for 
 her to sell and purchase food ; and, finding himself cold dur 
 ing the night, had cut open his bed and buried himself among 
 the leathers.
 
 198 WEALTH AND WORTH ; OR, 
 
 How is Dr. Johnson ? How is Mrs. Thrale ? Is 
 poor blind Mrs. Williams still ailing ? Is nobody 
 well but Mr. Levett ? Milton ! Shakspeare ! Dry- 
 den ! De Foe ! Pope ! Franklin ! Cowper ! By 
 ron ! Walter Scott! I salute you with reverence. I 
 am delighted to see you looking in such good case. 
 Hume, Smollett, Robertson ! Your most obedient ! 
 Burke ! I am glad to renew our acquaintance. Jef 
 ferson ! my respects. Gentlemen and ladies all ! 
 I return to your society with emotions of the pro- 
 foundest that is to say with unaccustomed 
 as I am to Ellen, help me out in my speech. 
 The presence of all these great people is embar 
 rassing." 
 
 " Nay, their backs are turned upon you, and 
 they are bound in silence and Russian leather." 
 
 "True! But I can never feel lonely in their 
 company. Do you remember Southey's lines to 
 his books 1" 
 
 " No." 
 
 " I think I can recall the first two stanzas : 
 
 'My days among the dead are past : 
 
 Around me I behold, 
 Where'er these casual eyes are cast, 
 
 The mighty minds of old 
 My never-failing friends are they, 
 With whom I converse day by day. 
 
 ' With them I take delight in weal, 
 
 And seek relief in wo, 
 And when I understand and feel 
 
 How much to them I owe, 
 My cheeks have often been bedew'd 
 With tears of thoughtful gratitude.' 
 
 Poor Southey ! His fine intellect is now cloud-
 
 WHICH MAKES THE MAN? 199 
 
 ed with insanity. His sun is setting in darkness 
 and in storms." 
 
 "To rise again, let us hope, in brightness." 
 
 " Yes, but for that hope the Christian's hope 
 what a dreary, aimless, objectless thing would this 
 life be ! Methinks I should find no joy even in 
 thy love, my wife, if I thought it limited to the little 
 span of our natural existence. ' If in this life only 
 we have hope in Christ, we are of all men most 
 miserable.' " 
 
 " I met with a little poem by Montgomery the 
 other day, which haunts me like a sweet tune, 
 both for the melody of the versification and the 
 extreme beauty of the metaphor." 
 
 " Can you repeat it ?" 
 
 " I will try : 
 
 'Lift up thine eyes, afflicted soul ! 
 
 From earth lift up thine eyes; 
 Though dark the evening shadows roll, 
 
 And daylight beauty dies ; 
 One sun is set a thousand more 
 
 Their rounds of glory run, 
 Where science leads thee to explore, 
 
 In every star a sun. 
 
 ' Thus, when some long-loved comfort ends, 
 
 And nature would despair, 
 Faith to the heaven of heavens ascends, 
 
 And meets ten thousand there ; 
 First faint and small, then clear and bright, 
 
 They gladden all the gloom, 
 And stars that seemed but points of light, 
 
 The rank of suns assume.' " 
 
 " Beautiful, every way ! There is not a flaw in 
 it in thought, diction, imagery, or rhythm."
 
 200 WEALTH AND WORTH ; OR, 
 
 " But how happens it, that on the ' glorious 
 Fourth,' our conversation is taking so grave a 
 turn ?" 
 
 " I dare say it could be explained upon the 
 principle of the association of ideas. Do you not 
 remember a poem of Wordsworth's, where he 
 speaks of that ' sweet mood, when pleasant 
 thoughts bring sad thoughts to the mind ?' We 
 seem inadvertently to have hit upon the same vein 
 with the poet." 
 
 " Strange inconsistency of qur nature, that ex 
 cess of happiness should make us sad ! For if I 
 am ever sad now-a-days, it is from that cause." 
 
 " Heaven grant that you may never experience 
 any cause more potent!" 
 
 " While Heaven preserves you as you are, I 
 shall not." 
 
 " Hark ! Do you not hear the guns booming 
 across the river ? It is our country's birth-day, 
 and we must do it honor." 
 
 " I am too stanch a Yankee not to agree with 
 you there. Ask Theodore if I did not once touch 
 off a twenty-four pounder on the fourth." 
 
 " Oh, I do not doubt you would be a second 
 Joan d'Arc, if you had the opportunity." 
 
 " I question whether the Maid of Orleans ever 
 did so much as fire a Chinese cracker." 
 
 " What a heroine you would make yourself 
 out !" 
 
 " Is not a hero's wife a heroine ?" 
 
 " And now, Ellen, let us rejoin our friends out of 
 doors. What a delightful day ! Do you see that 
 chamber on the eastern corner, where the plane- 
 tree rustles against the window ? That used to be 
 mine. Don't you remember, Emrneline, during
 
 WHICH MAKES THE MAN? 201 
 
 my long illness, how you used to come and sit for 
 hours by my bed-side, and sing and read to me ?" 
 
 " I shall never forget it." 
 
 " Poor Charley Brudenel ! I could weep at 
 this late day when I think of him. What a bright, 
 gay, high-hearted creature he was ! Theodore, 
 there is a beautiful little mound, just behind the 
 grove of chestnuts, which you see on the right. 
 You must draw me a design for a monument to be 
 erected there to the memory of my old playmate." 
 
 " It shall be done." 
 
 " But this is not a day for sad thoughts. We 
 expect a party of friends by the twelve o'clock 
 boat from the city." 
 
 " Whom do you expect ?" asked Emmeline. 
 
 " In the first place, there is Ralph Armstrong 
 with his lady. You have never seen him, Theo 
 dore ?" 
 
 " No." 
 
 " He was a school-mate of mine, and is as hon 
 est a fellow as ever lived. I had the pleasure of 
 serving him four or five years since, by obtaining 
 for him the place of chief engineer of one of our 
 great rail-roads. He gives complete satisfaction, 
 and, out of his liberal salary, has managed to ad 
 vance the fortunes of a large family of brothers 
 and sisters. Last week, Ralph was married to an 
 old friend of ours, Mary Brudenel, and is of course 
 happy as I was about to say, as a lord. But 
 that is a very absurd comparison ; for there is 
 Lord William Ormsby, who recently succeeded to 
 his father's immense estates, but who is as miser 
 able a man as profligacy ever made." 
 
 " What other visitors do you hope to see, 
 brother ?"
 
 202 WEALTH AND WORTH ; OR, 
 
 " Sim Lewis and his son John." 
 
 " Oh, I remember them well, and the glorious 
 winter evening we passed together," cried Theo 
 dore Clare. 
 
 " John Lewis," continued Maverick, " who has 
 a good deal of natural shrewdness, has risen in 
 the world so far, as to have been run for alderman 
 in his ward ; a circumstance which is a constant 
 subject of merriment to his worthy old father, who 
 cannot seem to realize that John Lewis is anything 
 still but an overgrown boy. They will make some 
 sport for us. Then there is old Mr. Brown, who, 
 I suspect, Theodore, is a very formidable rival to 
 you in Emmeline's favor." 
 
 " Out upon you, Harry !" cried the young lady 
 referred to. 
 
 " But I have not mentioned the name of another 
 expected visiter, who will be not among the least 
 welcome. Mr. Wainbridge arrived yesterday in 
 the Great Western from Bristol, with his wife and 
 daughter. I hare not seen him yet ; but sent a 
 messenger to the city last evening express, who 
 returned with the happy intelligence, that Wain- 
 bridge would be here with his family at the ap 
 pointed time, to celebrate with us our great na 
 tional holyday." 
 
 " What a charming party it will be !" cried Em- 
 meline. 
 
 " And now," said Harry, " suppose we marshal 
 our forces, and take a walk toward the landing- 
 place to meet our friends ; for it is almost twelve, 
 and I see the smoke of the steamboat, and hear 
 the band playing ' Hail Columbia.' Come here, 
 Miss Mary Maverick, and, grandmother, come 
 too ! Where are Edwin and Mr. Trane ? Oh,
 
 WHICH MAKES THE MAN ? 203 
 
 here they come, followed by Hotspur and General 
 Mingo. Now, Ellen, take the arm of Mr. Trane. 
 Emmeline, if you have no particular objection, 
 allow Theodore to conduct you. Mrs. Maverick, 
 senior ! do you not see that Mr. Edwin Clare 
 offers you his arm ? Miss Mary Maverick, give 
 me your hand. Come here, Hotspur, and bring up 
 the rear. Now, General Mingo, take your place 
 in advance, and do not let your sword trip you up 
 again. Are we all ready ? Forward ! March !" 
 
 In one of Maverick's letters addressed to Wain- 
 bridge, two or three months before the return to 
 Eagleswood, I find the following passage : " I 
 thank you for your liberal offer in regard to loans ; 
 but fortune has so far kept pace with my efforts, 
 that I see no necessity for taxing the generosity 
 of my friends. I have prospered in my profession, 
 and shall soon have the ability to re-purchase the 
 old estate on the Hudson. Your reflections upon 
 what once seemed calamitous occurrences in both 
 our lives are just. What a worthless fellow, in 
 all probability, I should have been, if the wealth 
 to which I was born had not been seasonably di 
 verted from my possession, and I thrown upon the 
 world to act out whatever there was in me of value ! 
 If necessity had not stimulated me to action, I 
 might have been at this day ' a boudoir's babbling 
 fool,' a sensualist and an idler a cipher in crea 
 tion ! How little to be envied, in the eye of ex 
 perience and philosophy, are those who are born 
 to wealth ! If poverty be sometimes the mother 
 of wretchedness, she may also point to millions
 
 204 
 
 WEALTH AND WORTH. 
 
 of triumphs in literature, and arts, and arms as her 
 legitimate offspring ; while wealth, with its Circean 
 blandishments, holds back genius and young ambi 
 tion from the race, until their strength is wasted or 
 their desire vanished. 
 
 ' What merit to be dropped on fortune's hill ? 
 The honor is to mount it.' "
 
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 This book WDUE on the last 
 dftWl&tonped below. 
 
 10M-1 1-50(2555)470 
 
 CMIII6TOII RAND -20
 
 UCLA-Young Research Library 
 
 PS2777 .W33 
 
 L 009 593 597 9