"I cannot imagine that!" I exclaimed.

"You cannot imagine it because you don't know anything about it, young
gentleman! The manners of some of our own young people will soon be as
dishevelled as those in New York. Have you seen our town yet, or is it
all books with you? You should not leave without a look at what is still
left of us. I shall be happy if you will sit in my pew on Sunday morning.
Your Northern shells did their best in the bombardment--did you say that
you rang? I think you had better pull it again; all the way out; yes,
like that--in the bombardment, but we have our old church still, in spite
of you. Do you see the crack in that wall? The earthquake did it. You're
spared earthquakes in the North, as you seem to be spared pretty much
everything disastrous--except the prosperity that's going to ruin you
all. We're better off with our poverty than you. Just ring the bell once
more, and then we'll go. I fancy Julia--I fancy Mrs. Weguelin St.
Michael--has run out to stare at the Northern steam yacht in the harbor.
It would be just like her. This house is historic itself. Shabby enough
now, to be sure! The great-aunt of my cousin, John Mayrant (who is going
to be married next Wednesday, to such a brute of a girl, poor boy!),
lived here in 1840, and made an answer to the Earl of Mainridge that put
him in his place. She was our famous Kings Port wit, and at the reception
which her father (my mother's uncle) gave the English visitor, he
conducted himself as so many Englishmen seem to think they can in this
country. Miss Beaufain (pronounced in Kings Port, Bowfayne), as she was
then, asked the Earl how he liked America; and he replied, very well,
except for the people, who were so vulgar. 'What can you expect?' said
Miss Beaufain; 'we're descended from the English.' Mrs. St. Michael is
out, and the servant has gone home. Slide this card under the door, with
your own, and come away."