ained
from the mastery of all conventional rules, was his by virtue of a
courageous soul, which held itself above all rules but those prescribed
by its own high sense of the right. There was a singular contrast,
rendered yet more striking by some points of resemblance, between the
pupil of society, and the child of the forest--between the Parisian
elegance of Henry, and the proud, free grace of George. His were the
step and bearing which we have seen in an Indian chief; but thought had
left its impress on his brow, and there was in his countenance that
indescribable air of refinement which marks a polished mind. In a very
few minutes Henry became reconciled to his brother's arrival, and
satisfied with him in all respects but one--his dress. This was of the
finest cloth, but made into large, loose trowsers, and a species of
hunting-shirt, trimmed with fur, belted around the waist, and
descending to the knee, instead of the tight pantaloons and closely
fitting body coat prescribed by fashion. The little party lingered long
over the table--it was seven o'clock before they arose from it.

"Dear mother," said George Manning, "I am sorry to leave you this
evening, but I will make you rich amends to-morrow by introducing to you
the friend I am going to visit, if you will permit me. Henry, it is so
long since I was in New-York that I need some direction in finding my
way--must I turn up or down Broadway for Number--, in going from this
street?"

"Number--," exclaimed Henry in surprise; "you must be mistaken--that is
Mrs. Duffield's."

"Then I am quite right, for it is at Mrs. Duffield's that I expect to
meet my friend this evening."

With some curiosity to know what friend of George could have so
completely the _entree_ of the fashionable Mrs. Duffield's house as to
make an appointment there, Henry proposed to go with him and show him
the way. There was a momentary hesitation in George's manner before he
replied, "Very well, I shall be obliged to you."

"But--excuse me George--you are not surely going in that dress--this is
one of Mrs. Duffield's reception evenings, and, early as it is, you will
find company there."

George laughed as he replied; "They must take me as I am, Henry. We do
not receive our fashions from Paris at the West."

Henry almost repented his offer to accompany his brother; but it was too
late to withdraw, for George, unconscious of this feeling, had taken his
cloak and cap, and was awaiting his esc