"The fever! Is old Otsego," for so its inhabitants loved to call a county of half a century's existence, it being venerable by comparison, "is old Otsego losing its well established character for salubrity?"
"I do not allude to an animal fever, but to the western fever."
"Ce pays de l'ouest, est-il bien malsain?" whispered Mademoiselle Viefville.
"Apparemment, Mademoiselle, sur plusieurs rapports."
"The western fever has seized old and young, and it has carried off many active families from our part of the world," continued Aristabulus, who did not understand the little aside just mentioned, and who, of course, did not heed it; "most of the counties adjoining our own have lost a considerable portion of their population."
"And they who have gone, do they belong to the permanent families, or are they merely the floating inhabitants?" inquired Mr. Effingham.
"Most of them belong to the regular movers."
"Movers!" again exclaimed Sir George--"is there any material part of your population who actually deserve this name?"
"As much so as the man who shoes a horse ought to be called a smith, or the man who frames a house a carpenter," answered John Effingham.
"To be sure," continued Mr. Bragg, "we have a pretty considerable leaven of them in our political dough, as well as in our active business. I believe, Sir George, that in England, men are tolerably stationary."