"Be kind to thy mother, for lo, on her brow,
May traces of sorrow be seen."—Popular Melody.
"Well, Blessington, so you've come back to locate with us, have you? Got enough of travelling and all its vexations, I presume?"
"Enough? As you please about that, George; but I find no vexations so weighty as to overcome the pleasures to be enjoyed in travel, by any manner of means. Still, I have returned to settle down in my native land, and my good genius seems to have thrown Dallydale in my way; so here I remain, and have commenced practice, as you see—or, rather, intend to commence, when any business presents itself."
"Excuse impertinence, Harry," said the first speaker, with a roguish look, "but—you'll get a wife, I suppose? You know, that's an absolute necessity in these days; to say nothing about performing an act of kindness to the scores who are waiting but to be asked."
"Well, I am not so certain as to the truth of that last remark; nevertheless, I have some intentions of that nature. By the way, George, can't you introduce me to some of the Dallydale ladies, that I may find a maiden to my liking? You know, I'm a perfect stranger in these parts."
"Good!" said George, springing from his chair, and thrusting his thumbs in the arm-holes of his waistcoat. "'Pon honor, I should be delighted to introduce you to some of my lady acquaintance. Ahem! 'Miss Jones, my friend, Mr. Blessington, of—of'—where shall it be, Harry? Paris, or London, or New York, or where? By my troth, Harry, you're the only mortal that I'd give a fig to exchange situations with; but you, with your fortune, your magnificent figure, your"——
"There! there, George; I declare, I was in hopes you had discarded those old ways of yours. It's exceedingly disagreeable, if you knew it, to be descanted upon in this manner to one's face. But come, when for those introductions?"
"This very night, Harry, if you please. I'll go with you, and call on some of my host of familiar acquaintances. By the way, there's one young lady, Miss Somers, a cousin of mine, who saw you at church last Sabbath, and who wishes to make your acquaintance. And—would you believe it?—she even told me so slyly. Yet there's no great wonder; for a man of your magnificent build"——
But Blessington closed his lips by placing his finger upon them, and together they left the office and disappeared up the street. These two young men were old schoolmates, and were quite familiar in their manner with each other. Blessington had been travelling in different lands for a couple of years previous, and, on his return to the United States, had fallen in with his friend, George Hart, some years his junior, and withal a pretty wild, though whole-hearted fellow. Both were wealthy, both of very prepossessing appearance and manners; but Blessington, if either, the more so.