He left it to his eldest son, en-_tiled_it, we may
say. Ho! ho!"

"When my indignation was over, I took the same view you do, Judge
Custis, that it was a bequest of dignity, not of burlesque; and I made
some inquiries for that best Hat. It was a legend among my forest kin,
had been seen by very old people, was celebrated in its day, and worn by
my grandfather thankfully. He left it to my father, still a hat of
reputation--"

"Still en-_tiled_ to the oldest son! Ha, ha! Milburn."

"My father sold the hat to Charles Wilson Peale, who was native to our
peninsula, and knew the ancient things existing here that would help him
to form Peale's Museum during the last century. I found the hat in that
museum, covering the mock-figure of Guy Fawkes!"

"Conspirator's hat; bravo!" exclaimed the Judge.

"It had been used for the heads of George Calvert and Shakespeare, but
in time of religious excitements was proclaimed to be the true hat of
Guy Fawkes. I reclaimed it, and brought it to Princess Anne, and in a
vain moment put it on my head and walked into the street. It was
assailed with halloos and ribaldry."

"It was another Shirt of Nessus, Milburn; it poisoned your life, eh?"

"Perhaps so," replied Milburn, with intensity. "They say what is one
man's drink is another man's poison. You will accept that hat on the
head of your son-in-law, or no more _drink_ out of the Custis property!"

CHAPTER V.

THE BOG-ORE TRACT.

Resolution of character and executive power had been trifled away by
Judge Custis. The trader had concluded their interview with a decision
and fierceness that left paralysis upon the gentleman's mind. He saw, in
sad fancy, the execution served upon his furniture, the amazement of his
wife, the pallor of his daughter, the indignation of his sons. He also
shrank before the impending failure of his furnace and abandonment of
the bog-ore tract, on which he had raised so much state and local fame;
people would say: "Custis was a fool, and deceived himself, while old
Steeple-top Milburn played upon the Custises' vanity, and turned them
into the street."

"No doubt," thought the Judge, "that fellow, Milburn, can get anything
when he gets my house. The poor folks' vote he may command, because he
is of their class. He is a lender to many of the rich. Who could have
suspected his intelligence? His address, too? He handled me as if I were
a forester and he a judge. A very, very remarkable man!" finished Jud