he wondered whether the Count would
resemble his father. The Daltons were remarkable for strong traits of
family likeness, not alone in feature, but in character; and what a
comfort Frank felt in fancying that the old general would be a thorough
Dalton in frankness and kindliness of nature, easy in disposition, with
all the careless freedom of his own father! How he should love him, as
one of themselves!

It is a well-known fact, that certain families are remarkable above
others for the importance that they attach to the ties of kindred,
making the boast of relationship always superior to the claims of
self-formed friendships. This is perhaps more peculiarly the case among
those who live little in the world, and whose daily sayings and doings
are chiefly confined to the narrow circle of home. But yet it is
singular how long this prejudice for perhaps it deserves no better
name can stand the conflict of actual life. The Daltons were a special
instance of what we mean. Certain characteristics of look and feature
distinguished them all, and they all agreed in maintaining the claim of
relationship as the strongest bond of union; and it was strange into
how many minor channels this stream meandered. Every old ruin, every
monument, every fragment of armor, or ancient volume associated with
their name, assumed a kind of religious value in their eyes, and the
word Dalton was a talisman to exalt the veriest trifle into the rank of
relic. From his earliest infancy Frank had been taught these lessons.
They were the traditions of the parlor and the kitchen, and by the mere
force of repetition became a part of his very nature. Corrig-O'Neal was
the theme of every story. The ancient house of the family, and which,
although by time's changes it had fallen into the hands of the Godfreys
from whom his mother came was yet regarded with all the feelings of
ancient pride. Over and over again was he told of the once princely
state that his ancestors held there, the troops of retainers, the
mounted followers that ever accompanied them. The old house itself was
exalted to the rank of a palace, and its wide-spreading but neglected
grounds spoken of like the park of royalty.

To see this old house of his fathers, to behold with his own eyes the
seat of their once greatness, became the passion of the boy's heart.
Never did the Bedouin of the Desert long after Mecca with more
heart-straining desire. To such a pitch had this passion gained on
hi