ng. Still Mr. Caverly was
what the world of New York, in 1832, called poor; that is to say, he
had no known bank-stock, did not own a lot on the island, was director
of neither bank nor insurance company, and lived in a modest two-story
house, in White street. It is true his practice supported his family,
and enabled him to invest in bonds and mortgages two or three thousand
a-year; and he owned the fee of some fifteen or eighteen farms in
Orange county, that were falling in from three-lives leases, and which
had been in his family ever since the seventeenth century. But, at a
period of prosperity like that which prevailed in 1832, 3, 4, 5, and 6,
the hereditary dollar was not worth more than twelve and a half cents,
as compared with the "inventoried" dollar. As there is something, after
all, in a historical name, and the Caverleys [sic] still had the best
of it, in the way of society, Eudosia was permitted to continue the
visits in White street, even after her own family were in full
possession in Broadway, and Henry Halfacre, Esq., had got to be
enumerated among the Manhattan nabobs. Clara Caverly was in Broadway
when Honor O'Flagherty arrived with me, out of breath, in consequence
of the shortness of her legs, and the necessity of making up for lost
time.

{owned the fee...falling in from three-life leases = i.e., Mr. Caverly
owned farms in Orange County that had been leased out for long periods
(the lives of three persons named at the moment the lease was granted)
but which were now about to revert to him--such long-term leases, in
the Hudson Valley, led to the so-called anti-rent war that was breaking
out at the time Cooper wrote this book; twelve and a half cents = an
English shilling, still often used in conversation in America; nabobs =
rich men (usually businessmen of recent affluence)}

"There, Miss Dosie," cried the exulting housemaid, for such was Honor's
domestic rank, though preferred to so honorable and confidential a
mission--"There, Miss Dosie, there it is, and it's a jewel."

{preferred = promoted}

"What has Honor brought you NOW?" asked Clara Caverly in her quiet way,
for she saw by the brilliant eyes and flushed cheeks of her friend that
it was something the other would have pleasure in conversing about.
"You make so many purchases, dear Eudosia, that I should think you
would weary of them."

"What, weary of beautiful dresses? Never, Clara, never! That might do
for White street, but in Broadwa