"I kinda hate to—Sam ain't rich."
"No—but he is not poor. I heard him say to father, when he was talking of buying the mountain farm, that he had two hundred dollars clear of the world."
"He did not, did he?"
"He certainly did, and I don't see why you should make him a present of your horse."
"Nor do I see, father, why you should not be just to yourself," said Charlotte.
"Well, well, I calculate to do what's fair, all round—but Sam felt bad, I tell you! and I did not want to bear down on him; but when I've got the mind of the street, I'll do something about speaking to him."
Charlotte mentally determined to keep her father up to this resolution, the most energetic that could be expected from him; and all lamenting the fate of poor Jock, the parties separated and proceeded homeward.
CHAPTER II.
"UNCLE PHIL."
We have rather unceremoniously presented some of the humble inhabitants of Essex to our readers. A few more preparatory words to ensure a better acquaintance. Philip May was bred a hatter. His trade and patrimony (amounting to
