was
unanimous. Mr. Enos Slugby rose, and called for three cheers for "the
Honorable Abel Newt, our next talented and able representative in
Congress." The Convention rose and roared.

"Members of the Convention who wish to call upon the candidate will fall
into line!" shouted Mr. Condor; then leading the way, and followed by the
members, he went down stairs into the street. A band of music was at
hand, by some thoughtful care, and, following the beat of drums and
clangor of brass, the Convention marched toward Grand Street.

CHAPTER LXVIII.

THE INDUSTRIOUS APPRENTICE.

Good news fly fast. On the wings of the newspapers the nomination of Abel
Newt reached Delafield, where Mr. Savory Gray still moulded the youthful
mind. He and his boys sat at dinner.

"Fish! fish! I like fish," said Mr. Gray. "Don't you like fish,
Farthingale?"

Farthingale was a new boy, who blushed, and said, promptly,

"Oh! yes, Sir."

"Don't you like fish, Mark Blanding? Your brother Gyles used to," asked
Mr. Gray.

"Yes, Sir," replied that youth, slowly, and with a certain expression in
his eye, "I suppose I do."

"All boys who are in favor of having fish dinner on Fridays will hold up
their right hands," said Mr. Gray. He looked eagerly round the table.
"Come, come! up, up, up!" said he, good-naturedly.

"That's it. Mrs. Gray, fish on Fridays."

"Mr. Gray," said Mark Blanding.

"Well, Mark?"

"Ain't fish cheaper than meat?"

"Mark, I am ashamed of you. Go to bed this instant."

Mark was unjust, for Uncle Savory had no thought of indulging his purse,
but only his palate.

When the criminal was gone Mr. Gray drew a paper from his pocket, and
said,

"Boys, attend! In this paper, which is a New York paper, there is an
account of the nomination of a member of Congress--a member of Congress,
boys," he repeated, slowly, dwelling upon the words to impress their due
importance. "What do you think his name is? Who do you suppose it is who
is nominated for Congress?"

He waited a moment, but the boys, not having the least idea, were silent.

"Well, it is Abel Newt, who used to sit at this very table. Abel Newt,
one of Mr. Gray's boys."

He waited another moment, to allow the overwhelming announcement to have
its due effect, while the scholars all looked at him, holding their
knives and forks.

"And there is not one of you, who, if he be a good boy, may not arrive at
the same eminence. Think, boys, any one of you, if you