nning to go alone, and that it may set up for
itself.

Although New York is, out of all question, decidedly provincial,
labouring under the peculiar vices of provincial habits and provincial
modes of thinking, it contains many a man of the world, and some, too,
who have never quitted their own firesides. Of this very number was the
Jack Dunning, as my uncle Ro called him, to whose house in Chamber
street we were now proceeding.

"If we were going anywhere but to Dunning's," said my uncle, as we
turned out of Greenwich street, "I should have no fear of being
recognised by the servants; for no one here thinks of keeping a man six
months. Dunning, however, is of the old school, and does not like new
faces; so he will have no Irishman at his door, as is the case with two
out of three of the houses at which one calls, now-a-days."

In another minute we were at the bottom of Mr. Dunning's "stoup"--what
an infernal contrivance it is to get in and out at the door by, in a
hotty-cold climate like ours!--but, there we were, and I observed that
my uncle hesitated.

"_Parlez au_ SUISSE," said I; "ten to one he is fresh from some
Bally-this, or Bally-that."

"No, no; it must be old Garry the nigger"--my uncle Ro was of the old
school himself, and _would_ say "nigger"--"Jack can never have parted
with Garry."

"Garry" was the diminutive of Garret, a somewhat common Dutch christian
name among us.

We rang, and the door opened--in about five minutes. Although the terms
"aristocrat" and "aristocracy" are much in men's mouths in America just
now, as well as those of "feudal" and the "middle ages," and this, too,
as applied to modes of living as well as to leasehold tenures, there is
but one porter in the whole country; and he belongs to the White House,
at Washington. I am afraid even that personage, royal porter as he is,
is often out of the way; and the reception he gives when he _is_ there,
is not of the most brilliant and princely character. When we had waited
three minutes, my uncle Ro said--

"I am afraid Garry is taking a nap by the kitchen-fire; I'll try him
again."

Uncle Ro did try again, and, two minutes later, the door opened.

"What is your pleasure?" demanded the _Suisse_, with a strong brogue.

My uncle started back as if he had met a sprite; but he asked if Mr.
Dunning was at home.

"He is, indeed, sir."

"Is he alone, or is he with company?"

"He is, indeed."

"But _what_ is he, indeed?"

"He is _t