little niggers," and the thousand and one ailings that belong to the age of
ninety years.




CHAPTER II.


"You rode too far this afternoon, Alice, you seem to be very tired," said
Mr. Weston.

"No, dear uncle, I am not fatigued; the wind was cold, and it makes me feel
stupid."

"Why did not Walter come in?" asked Mr. Weston. "I saw him returning with
you by the old road."

"He said he had an engagement this evening," replied Alice, as she raised
her head from her uncle's shoulder.

"Poor Walter!" said Cousin Janet; "with the education and habits of a
gentleman, he is to be pitied that it is only as a favor he is received,
among those with whom he may justly consider himself on an equality."

"But is not Walter our equal?" asked Alice. Cousin Janet held her knitting
close to her eyes to look for a dropped stitch, while Mr. Weston replied
for her:

"My love, you know, probably, that Walter is not an equal by right of birth