lass, that he drank away
freely, and it was only when he had finished that he remembered his
intention of giving a toast.

"Now, Mr. Dalton," said he, as he sat up with a replenished glass in his
hand, "I am going to redeem my pledge, and about to give you the health
of the most beautiful girl in Italy, one whose attractions are the theme
of every tongue, and whose ambitions may realize any height, or attain
any eminence, that she pleases."

"Here 's to you, Kate Dalton," broke in the father, "my own sweet child;
and if you only come back to me as you went away, the sorrow better I
ask, or grander."

"She will be a duchess; she may be a princess if she likes."

"Who knows who knows?" said Dalton, as he hung down his head, and
hammered away with his spoon at the sugar in his glass.

"Every one knows, every one sees it, Mr. Dalton," said Foglass,
authoritatively. "From the Archduke Ernest of Austria to the very pages
of the court, all are her worshippers and admirers. She'll come back to
you with a proud name and a high coronet, Mr. Dalton."

"The devil a better than Dalton ever 'twill be! that I can tell you.
'T is n't yesterday we took it, the same name; there 's stones in the
churchyard of Ballyhack can show who we are; and if she married the--the
God forgive me, I was going to say the Pope, but I meant the Grand Turk
she would n't be better than she is now, as Kate Dalton."

"Not better, certainly, but in a more exalted rank, in a position of
more recognized distinction," said Foglass, blandly.

"No; nor that neither," cried Dalton, angrily. "The Daltons goes back
to the ancient times of all. There 's one of our name in the Bible. I 'm
not sure where, but I believe it 's in the Book of Kings, or maybe the
Psalms; but wherever it is, he was a real gentleman, living on his own
estate, with his livery-servants, and his horses, and everything in
good style about him; high on the grand jury, maybe the sheriff of the
county."

Foglass, who had followed this description but imperfectly, could only
bow in a deep acknowledgment of what he did not understand.

"The man that marries Kate Dalton isn't doing a piece of condescension,
anyhow! that I can tell him. The dirty acres may slip away from us, but
our good blood won't."

"No man has a higher veneration for blood, sir," said Foglass, proudly;
"few men have better reason for the feeling."

"Is Fogles an old stock?" asked Dalton, eagerly.

"Foglass, like Fitzro