ner:

"I drink to our better acquaintance, sir; I believe this is the first
time we have met, though your attention would seem to say otherwise."

"I think we have never met before, sir," replied Harper, with a slight
smile on his features, rising and desiring to be shown to his place of
rest. A small boy was directed to guide him to his room; and, wishing
a courteous good-night to the whole party, the traveller withdrew. The
knife and fork fell from the hands of the unwelcome intruder as the
door closed on the retiring figure of Harper; he rose slowly from
his seat; listening attentively, he approached the door of the room,
opened it, seemed to attend to the retreating footsteps of the other,
and, amidst the panic and astonishment of his companions, he closed it
again. In an instant the red wig which concealed his black locks, the
large patch which hid half his face from observation, the stoop that
had made him appear fifty years of age, disappeared.

"My father, my dear father!" cried the handsome young man; "and you,
my dearest sisters and aunt!--have I at last met you again?"

"Heaven bless you, my Henry, my son!" exclaimed the astonished but
delighted parent; while his sisters sunk on his shoulders, dissolved
in tears.

CHAPTER II.

THE PEDDLER.

A storm below the highlands of the Hudson, if it be introduced with
an easterly wind, seldom lasts less than two days. Accordingly, the
inmates of the Locusts assembled on the following morning around
their early breakfast, as the driving rain, seen to strike in nearly
horizontal lines against the windows of the building, forbade the idea
of exposing either man or beast to the tempest. Harper was the last to
appear; after taking a view of the state of the weather, he apologized
to Mr. Wharton for the necessity that existed for his trespassing on
his goodness for a longer time. Henry Wharton had resumed his disguise
with a reluctance amounting to disgust, but in obedience to the
commands of his parent. No communications passed between him and the
stranger after the first salutations of the morning.

While seated at the table, Caesar entered, and laying a small parcel in
silence by the side of his master, modestly retired behind his chair,
where, placing one hand on its back, he continued, in an attitude half
familiar, half respectful, a listener.

"What is this, Caesar?" inquired Mr. Wharton, turning the bundle over
to examine its envelope,[3] and eying i