"I suppose you are Caleb Benson," the gentleman said, throwing away the end of a cigar, as the old man mounted the steps.

"Wal, they call me so, sometimes," replied Caleb; for the instincts of his New England birthplace had not deserted him, and he never answered a question in a straightforward manner, if he could help it.

"Some friends of mine told me I could find very comfortable quarters with you," pursued the stranger. "I have run down to see the place, and take a day's duck shooting. I want to engage rooms, and leave my traps here, so that I can come over whenever I feel like it."

"I want to know,—mean to have a good long shute do you!" said Caleb. "Wal, I guess I could fix you up, if you ain't too particular."

"I am not at all particular what I pay," replied the gentleman; "I suppose that is satisfactory."

"I ain't going to say 'tain't," returned Caleb, his eyes beginning to twinkle at the prospect of a liberal guest, who meant to come frequently.

"I reckon you'd like to see what I can do in the way of rooms, Mr., Mr.——Wal, I don't think I quite ketched your name."

"Mr. North," said the stranger, smiling at the man's shrewdness.

He stood for a few moments talking with Caleb, and though the old fellow was not easily pleased, he was quite fascinated by the stranger's manner; and, having a very vague idea of princes, was almost inclined to think that this splendid-looking creature might be one who had strayed over from his native kingdom on a fishing excursion.

"Now let me see the rooms," said Mr. North. "I suppose my man may as well carry the traps up stairs now—the place is certain to suit me."

Caleb looked at the stylish colored individual who was leaning, in a graceful attitude, over the luggage, and a brilliant idea struck him.

"I say you," he called, "I've got a ticket that'll just suit you, Mr.——What's your name?"

"If you are redressing me," replied the sable gentleman, majestically, "my name is Mr. Julius Hannibal."

"Want to know!" said Caleb. "Wal, here's an invite that was just meant for a fine-looking chap like you."

Caleb drew one of the notes from his pocket, and held it out. Hannibal took it with considerable dignity, doubtful how to receive such unceremonious compliments.

"You are in luck, Ju," said his master. "What's it all about, Mr. Benson?"

"Why, Mr. Mellen—he's one of our rich men down here—is going to be married this week, so his servants thought they'd have a blow-out to-night, for fear they wouldn't get the chance after the new mistress comes."

"Go, by all means," said North, almost eagerly. "Make all the friends you can, Ju, for we shall be here a good deal—go, certainly."

Hannibal drew himself up, bowed to his master, and said to Caleb in a stately way——

"I shall be most happy to mixture in the festive throng, but would most 'spectfully state to Miss Clorindy that morocur pumps is banished from polite society, and only patting leathers is worn—but these is trifles."

North took the note from his servant's hand, and could not repress his merriment as he read it; but Caleb received that as a compliment, and looked so conscious, that it was easy to discover what share he had taken in the matter.

"Pinnacles of ice cream, and a dance in the landing," read Mr. North. "Why choose the landing, Mr. Benson?"

"Laundry, laundry! I guess it's blotted a leetle."

"Oh yes—I see! Upon my word, quite magnificent! So Mr.—Mellen, did you call him?—is to be married this week. Well, well, that fate overtakes most of us, sooner or later. We will go up stairs now, if you please, Mr. Benson."

The old man led the way up to the room, which was kept in readiness for visitors of importance, and which had been made quite comfortable by the various articles of furniture that the different occupants had presented to Caleb, on leaving his house.

The bargain was not a difficult one, as Mr. North appeared quite willing to pay Benson his own price, and the old fellow was only in doubt as to the extent to which he might safely carry his extortion.