; and one said this and t'other said that. And at last I
couldn't stand it no longer; and I writ him a letter--to the Governor;
and says I, 'Governor,' says I, '_did_ you drink wine at your daughter
Lottie's weddin' at New Haven last month?' And if you'll believe me, he
writ me back, 'Jonathan Midgin, Esq. Dear sir, I was in New York the
day you mention, shakin' with chills and fever, and never got to
Lottie's weddin' at all.'--What do you think o' that? Overturns your
theory a leetle, don't it? Warn't no sort o' foundation for that story;
and yet it did go round, and folks said it was so."

"It is a strong story for your side, Mr. Midgin, undoubtedly."

"Ain't it! La! bless you, there's nothin' you kin be sartain of in this
world. I don't believe in no Romulus and his wolf. Half o' all these
books, now, I have no doubt, tells lies; and the other half, you don'
know which 'tis."

"I cannot throw them away however, just yet; and so, Mr. Midgin, I want
some shelves to keep them off the floor."

"I should say you jest did! Where'll you put 'em?"

"The shelves? All along that side of the room, I think. And about six
feet high."

"That'll hold 'em," said Mr. Midgin, as he applied his measuring rule.
"Jest shelves? or do you want a bookcase fixed up all reg'lar?"

"Just shelves. That is the prettiest bookcase, to my thinking."

"That's as folks looks at it," said Mr. Midgin, who apparently was of a
different opinion. "What'll they be? Mahogany, or walnut, or cherry, or
maple, or pine? You kin stain 'em any colour. One thing's handsome, and
another thing's cheap; and I don' know yet whether you want 'em cheap
or handsome."

"Want 'em both, Mr. Midgin," said Lois.

"H'm!-- Well--maybe there's folks that knows how to combine both
advantages--but I'm afeard I ain't one of 'em. Nothin' that's cheap's
handsome, to my way o' thinkin'. You don't make much count o' cheap
things _here_ anyhow," said he, surveying the room. And then he began
his measurements, going round the sides of the apartment to apply his
rule to all the plain spaces; and Mrs. Barclay noticed how tenderly he
handled the books which he had to move out of his way. Now and then he
stopped to open one, and stood a minute or two peering into it. All
this while his hat was on.

"Should like to read that," he remarked, with a volume of Macaulay's
Essays in his hands. "That's well written. But a man can't read all the
world," he went on, as he laid it out of h