cobs got married, and father and mother went to the
wedding. Father gave the bridegroom a yoke of oxen, and mother gave the
bride a lot of household linen, and I believe they're as happy as the
day is long. Jacobs makes his wife comb her hair, and he waits on the
old man as if he was his son, and he is improving the farm that was
going to rack and ruin, and I hear he is going to build a new house."

"Harry," exclaimed Miss Laura, "can't you take me to see them?"

"Yes, indeed; mother often drives over to take them little things, and
we'll go, too, sometime. I'd like to see Jacobs myself, now that he is a
decent fellow. Strange to say, though he hadn't the best of character,
no one has ever suspected him of the robbery, and he's been cunning
enough never to say a word about it. Father says Jacobs is like all the
rest of us. There's mixture of good and evil in him, and sometimes one
predominates, and sometimes the other. But we must get on and not talk
here all day. Get up, Fleetfoot."

"Where did you say we were going?" asked Miss Laura, as we crossed the
bridge over the river.

"A little way back here in the woods," he replied. "There's an
Englishman on a small clearing that he calls Penhollow. Father loaned
him some money three years ago, and he won't pay either interest or
principal."

"I think I've heard of him," said Miss Laura "Isn't he the man whom the
boys call Lord Chesterfield?"

"The same one. He's a queer specimen of a man. Father has always stood
up for him. He has a great liking for the English. He says we ought to
be as ready to help an Englishman as an American, for we spring from
common stock."

"Oh, not Englishmen only," said Miss Laura, warmly; "Chinamen, and
Negroes, and everybody. There ought to be a brotherhood of nations,
Harry."

"Yes, Miss Enthusiasm, I suppose there ought to be," and looking up, I
could see that Mr. Harry was gazing admiringly into his cousin's face.

"Please tell me some more about the Englishman," said Miss Laura.

"There isn't much to tell. He lives alone, only coming occasionally to
the village for supplies, and though he is poorer than poverty, he
despises every soul within a ten-mile radius of him, and looks upon us
as no better than an order of thrifty, well-trained lower animals."

"Why is that?" asked Miss Laura, in surprise.

"He is a gentleman, Laura, and we are only common people. My father
can't hand a lady in and out of a carriage as Lord Chesterfield