voice. At such times, a fine fellow, who was still known as Bog, would
look on and listen, with rapt attention, and the happiest smile on his
face. Sometimes these tranquil scenes would be pleasantly broken in
upon, and the meaning of the author profitably obscured, by the entrance
of a certain little Helen, whom the old man would kiss, and call
"Grandpop's sugarp'um," and "Sweety peety." Bog would then catch it up,
and toss it aloft, all whirling with curls, laces, and blue ribbons, and
would say, "Cud-je-wod-je now, cud-je-wod-je now, cud-je-wod-je now," at
each tossing; and the child, with the marvellous instinct of eighteen
months, would understand this mysterious dialect, and then would smile
through large blue eyes that looked like its mother's.

To this house, Myndert Van Quintem, jr., had never returned; and no
authentic intelligence of him had ever come. Fayette Overtop, Esq.,
while on a professional visit to St. Paul, Minnesota, to settle a large
land claim, had heard of a notorious Van Benton, who had kept a gambling
house there several years, and was finally killed by a spendthrift whom
he had cleaned out of his last cent one night. The best description
which he could get of this man, tallied precisely with that of Myndert
Van Quintem, jr. But Overtop, with that discretion which was continually
enlarging his circle of paying practice, said nothing of this to the old
gentleman. Among the reports that Overtop had heard of this Van Benton,
was one, that he had forged his father's signature to large amounts in
New York city, and had fled to the West, and there changed his name to
avoid the arrest and punishment which his father had promised him. Had
the old gentleman been informed of this circumstance, he would at once
have identified Van Benton as his son; for it was known to him alone,
that young Myndert had repeatedly forged his name (evidences of which
had been found in the desk where Marcus Wilkeson had often seen the
young man busily writing--evidences which the forger had accidentally
omitted to burn), and that he had been induced to leave the city through
fear that his father would give him up to justice at last. On the
memorable night in the milliner's shop in Greenpoint, the young
profligate had seen that his father was terribly in earnest, and had
quailed in the presence of that outraged and indignant soul.

The second house not ornamented by a doctor's sign, on the south side of
the block, was the o