"Put me down at what you please," said John Effingham, whose charities in
a pecuniary sense were as unlimited, as in feeling they were apparently
restrained. "One hundred or one thousand, to rescue that poor crew!"

"I believe, sir, we must all follow so good an example," Mr. Sharp
observed; "and I sincerely hope that this scheme will not prove useless. I
think it may be effected by means of some of the public agents at
Mogadore."

Mr. Dodge raised many objections, for it really exceeded his means to give
so largely, and his character was formed in a school too envious and
jealous to confess an inferiority on a point even as worthless as that of
money. Indeed, he had so long been accustomed to maintain that "one man
was as good as another," in opposition to his senses, that, like most of
those who belong to this impracticable school, he had tacitly admitted in
his own mind, the general and vulgar ascendency of mere wealth; and, quite
as a matter of course, he was averse to confessing his own inferiority on
a point that he had made to be all in all, while loudest in declaiming
against any inferiority whatever. He walked out of the cabin, therefore,
with strong heart-burnings and jealousies, because others had presumed to
give that which it was not really in his power to bestow.

On the other hand, both Mademoiselle Viefville and Mr. Monday manifested
the superiority of the opinions in which they had been trained. The first
quietly handed a Napoleon to Mr. Effingham, who took it with as much
attention and politeness as he received any of the larger contributions;
while the latter produced a five-pound note, with a hearty good-will that
redeemed the sin of many a glass of punch in the eyes of his companions.

Eve did not dare to look towards Paul Blunt, while this collection was