Uncle Jack. (dropping his saddle-bags).—"Nephew! Heaven be praised!
Come to my arms!"
They embrace; mutual introductions to the company,—Mr. Vivian, Mr. Bolding, on the one side; Major MacBlarney, Mr. Bullion, Mr. Emanuel Speck, on the other. Major MacBlarney is a fine, portly man, with a slight Dublin brogue, who squeezes your hand as he would a sponge. Mr. Bullion, reserved and haughty, wears green spectacles, and gives you a forefinger. Mr. Emanuel Speck—unusually smart for the Bush, with a blue-satin stock and one of those blouses common in Germany, with elaborate hems and pockets enough for Briareus to have put all hands into at once; is, thin, civil, and stoops—bows, smiles, and sits down to dinner again, with the air of a man accustomed to attend to the main chance.
Uncle Jack (his mouth full of beef).—"Famous beef!—breed it yourself, eh? Slow work that cattle-feeding! [Empties the rest of the pickle-jar into his plate.] Must learn to go ahead in the New World,—railway times these! We can put him up to a thing or to, eh, Bullion? [Whispering me] Great capitalist that Bullion! Look At Him!"
Mr. Bullion (gravely).—"A thing or two! If he has capital,—you have said it, Mr. Tibbets." (Looks round for the pickles; the green spectacles remain fixed upon Uncle Jack's plate.)
Uncle Jack.—"All that this colony wants is a few men like us, with capital and spirit. Instead of paying paupers to emigrate, they should pay rich men to come, eh, Speck?"
While Uncle Jack turns to Mr. Speck, Mr. Bullion fixes his fork in a pickled onion in Jack's plate and transfers it to his own, observing, not as incidentally to the onion, but to truth in general: "A man, gentlemen, in this country, has only to keep his eyes on the look-out and seize on the first advantage! Resources are incalculable!"
Uncle Jack, returning to the plate, and missing the onion, forestalls Mr. Speck in seizing the last potato; observing also, and in the same philosophical and generalizing spirit as Mr. Bullion: "The great thing in this country is to be always beforehand. Discovery and invention, promptitude and decision,—that's your go! 'Pon my life, one picks up sad vulgar sayings among the natives here! 'That's your go!'—shocking! What would your poor father say? How is he,—good Austin? Well? That's right; and my dear sister? Ah, that damnable Peck! Still harping on the 'Anti-Capitalist,' eh? But I'll make it up to you all now. Gentlemen, charge your glasses,—a bumper-toast."
Mr. Speck (in an affected tone).—"I respond to the sentiment in a flowing cup. Glasses are not forthcoming."
Uncle Jack.—"A bumper-toast to the health of the future millionnaire whom I present to you in my nephew and sole heir,—Pisistratus Caxton, Esq. Yes, gentlemen, I here publicly announce to you that this gentleman will be the inheritor of all my wealth,—freehold, leasehold, agricultural, and mineral; and when I am in the cold grave [takes out his pocket-handkerchief], and nothing remains of poor John Tibbets, look upon that gentleman and say, 'John Tibbets lives again!'"
Mr. Speck (chantingly),—