st, taking both of Judge Custis's hands, "how do
our dear friends all get along in Somerset and Accomac? Where _do_ you
call home now, Friend Custis? How are our old friends Spence and
Upshur, and Polk and Franklin and Harry Wise? Goy! how I love our
neighbors below."

There was a strength of articulation and physical emphasis in the
speaker that the Judge noted at once, and it was attended with a beaming
of the eyes and a fine fortitude of the large jaws that made him nearly
magnetic.

"And this is John M. Clayton?" said the Judge. "We are not so far off
that we have not fully heard of you. And now, since I belong to a
numerous family, let me identify myself, Clayton, as Daniel Custis, late
Judge on the Eastern Shore."

"Judge Custis! Daniel Custis! Friends," looking around, "what an honor!
Think of it! The eminent American manufacturer! The creator of our
industries! The friend of Mr. Clay and the home policy! Bayard, you need
not shake your head! Ridgely, pardon my patriotic enthusiasm! Look at _a
man_, my friends, at last! Goy!"

As the Judge listened to various affirmations of welcome, Mr. Clayton,
with one eye winked and the other resting on Lawyer Frame, the ardent
spirit of the bar, made the motion with his lips:

"Cambridge?"

"No; Princess Anne."

"And dear old Princess Anne, how does she fare?"--he had again turned to
the Judge--"how is the little river Wicomico--no, I mean Manokin--how
does it flow? Does it flow benevolently? Does it abound in the best
oysters I ever tasted? in _tar_rapin, too? How is she now? Goy!"

"Are you on your way north, Brother Custis, or going home?" the keen,
black-eyed Chief-justice asked.

"No, my journey is ended. I came to Dover to be acquainted with Mr.
Clayton."

"_Aunt Braner. Hyo! Come yer, Aunt Braner_!" the host cried loudly, and
an old colored woman came in, closely followed by some of her
grandchildren, who stood, gazing, at the door. "Take this gentleman and
give him the best room in my house. The best ain't good enough for him!
Take him right up and give him water and make your son bresh him, and
we'll send him the best julep in Kent County. Goy!"

"De bes' room was Miss Sally's, Mr. Clayton," the old woman answered.

A sudden change came over the highly prompt and sanguine face of the
host; he hesitated, wandered in the eyes, and caught himself on the
words:

"No, give him the Speaker Chew room: that'll suit him best."

As the Judge followed the se