loyal; and was every way disposed to sustain the
honour and interests of the seat of authority; but when questions were
raised between Europe and America, he was an American; as, in America
itself, he regarded himself as purely a Virginian, in contradistinction
to all the other colonies. He understood the intended sarcasm of Tom
Wychecombe, but smothered his resentment, out of respect to the baronet,
and perhaps a little influenced by the feelings in which he had been so
lately indulging.

"Those gentlemen who are disposed to fancy such things of the colonies,
would do well to visit that part of the world," he answered, calmly,
"before they express their opinions too loudly, lest they should say
something that future observation might make them wish to recall."

"True, my young friend--quite true," put in the baronet, with the
kindest possible intentions. "True as gospel. We never know any thing of
matters about which we know nothing; that we old men must admit, Master
Dutton; and I should think Tom must see its force. It would be
unreasonable to expect to find every thing as comfortable in America as
we have it here, in England; nor do I suppose the Americans, in general,
would be as likely to get over a cliff as an Englishman. However, there
are exceptions to all general rules, as my poor brother James used to
say, when he saw occasion to find fault with the sermon of a prelate. I
believe you did not know my poor brother, Dutton; he must have been
killed about the time you were born--St. James, I used to call him,
although my brother Thomas, the judge that was Tom's father, there--said
he was St. James the Less."

"I believe the Rev. Mr. Wychecombe was dead before I was of an age to
remember his virtues, Sir Wycherly," said Dutton, respectfully; "though
I have often heard my own father speak of all your honoured family."

"Yes, your father, Dutton, was the attorney of the next town, and we all
knew him well. You have done quite right to come back among us to spend
the close of your own days. A man is never as well off as when he is
thriving in his native soil; more especially when that soil is old
England, and Devonshire. You are not one of us, young gentleman, though
your name happens to be Wychecombe; but, then we are none of us
accountable for our own births, or birth-places."

This truism, which is in the mouths of thousands while it is in the
hearts of scarcely any, was well meant by Sir Wycherly, however pl