enough to build twenty such?"

"I can't say but he did, Mr. Peter," said Tabitha, threading her
needle.

Tabitha well understood that Peter had reference to an immense hoard
of the precious metals which was said to exist somewhere in the cellar
or walls, or under the floors, or in some concealed closet or other
out-of-the-way nook of the old house. This wealth, according to
tradition, had been accumulated by a former Peter Goldthwaite whose
character seems to have borne a remarkable similitude to that of the
Peter of our story. Like him, he was a wild projector, seeking to heap
up gold by the bushel and the cart-load instead of scraping it
together coin by coin. Like Peter the second, too, his projects had
almost invariably failed, and, but for the magnificent success of the
final one, would have left him with hardly a coat and pair of breeches
to his gaunt and grizzled person. Reports were various as to the
nature of his fortunate speculation, one intimating that the ancient
Peter had made the gold by alchemy; another, that he had conjured it
out of people's pockets by the black art; and a third--still more
unaccountable--that the devil had given him free access to the old
provincial treasury. It was affirmed, however, that some secret
impediment had debarred him from the enjoyment of his riches, and that
he had a motive for concealing them from his heir, or, at any rate,
had died without disclosing the place of deposit. The present Peter's
father had faith enough in the story to cause the cellar to be dug
over. Peter himself chose to consider the legend as an indisputable
truth, and amid his many troubles had this one consolation--that,
should all other resources fail, he might build up his fortunes by
tearing his house down. Yet, unless he felt a lurking distrust of the
golden tale, it is difficult to account for his permitting the
paternal roof to stand so long, since he had never yet seen the moment
when his predecessor's treasure would not have found plenty of room in
his own strong-box. But now was the crisis. Should he delay the search
a little longer, the house would pass from the lineal heir, and with
it the vast heap of gold, to remain in its burial-place till the ruin
of the aged walls should discover it to strangers of a future
generation.

"Yes," cried Peter Goldthwaite, again; "to-morrow I will set about
it."

The deeper he looked at the matter, the more certain of success grew
Peter. His spirits w