retty certain,--we
don't say the worst of ourselves. Ain't that your platform, sir?"

"I agree to the general principle."

"Agreein', then, to the gen'ral principle, here's where we go next, for
I ain't a-goin' to let you off, Britisher; I 've got a harpoon in
you now, and I 'll tow you after me into shoal water; see if I don't.
Agreein', as we say, to the gen'ral principle, that no man likes to make
his face blacker than it need be, what good could it do me to say that I
wasn't born a free citizen of the freest country of the universe?"

"I am really at a loss to see how I am interested in this matter. I have
not, besides, that perfect leisure abstract discussion requires. You
will forgive me if I take my leave." He moved hastily towards the door
as he spoke, followed by Quackinboss, whose voice had now assumed the
full tones and the swelling modulations of public oratory.

"That great land, sanctified by the blood of the pilgrim fathers,
and whose proudest boast it is that from the first day, when the
star-spangled banner of Freedom dallied with the wind and scorned the
sun, waving its barred folds over the heads of routed enemies,--to that
glorious consummation, when, from the rugged plains of New England to
the golden groves of Florida--"

"Good-bye, sir,--good-evening," said Ogden, passing out and gaining the
landing-place.

"--One universal shout, floating over the Atlantic waters, proclaimed to
the Old World that the 'Young' was alive and kickin'--"

"Good-night," cried Ogden, from the bottom of the stairs; and
Quackinboss re-entered his chamber and banged the door after him,
muttering something to himself about Lexington and Concord, Columbus and
Quincy Adams.

CHAPTER XXIII. BROKEN TIES

It was a sorrowful morning at the Villa Caprini on the 22d of November.
Agincourt had come to take his last farewell of his kind friends, half
heart-broken that he was not permitted even to see poor Layton before he
went Quackin-bose, however, was obdurate on the point, and would suffer
no one to pass the sick man's door. Mr. Ogden sat in the carriage as the
boy dashed hurriedly into the house to say "Good-bye." Room after room
he searched in vain. No one to be met with. What could it mean?--the
drawing-room, the library, all empty!

"Are they all out, Fenton?" cried he, at last.

"No, my Lord, Sir William was here a moment since, Miss Leslie is in her
room, and Mrs. Morris, I think, is in the garden."

To