“Your servant, gentlemen,” commenced the attorney, in a manner that was civil enough; “your servant; I beg you to help yourselves to chairs.”  We all three took seats, at this invitation.  “A pleasant evening,” eyeing us still more keenly over his glasses, “and weather that is good for the crops.  If the wars continue much longer in Europe,” another look over the glasses, “we shall sell all the substance out of our lands, in order to send the belligerents wheat.  I begin to look on real estate security as considerably less valuable than it was, when hostilities commenced in 1793, and as daily growing less and less so.”

“Ay, you may say that,” Marble bluntly answered; “particularly the farms of widows and orphans.”

The “’Squire” was a little startled at this unexpected reply.  He looked intently at each of us again, over the spectacles; and then asked, in a manner divided between courtesy and authority—­

“May I inquire your names, and the object of this visit?”

“Sartain,” said Marble.  “That’s reasonable and your right.  We are not ashamed of our names, nor of our errand.  As for the last, Mr. Van Tassell, you’ll know it sooner than you will wish to know it; but, to begin at the right end, this gentleman with me, is Mr. Miles Wallingford, a partic’lar friend of old Mrs. Wetmore, who lives a bit down the road yonder, at a farm called Willow Grove; ’Squire Wallingford, sir, is her friend, and my friend, and I’ve great pleasure in making you acquainted with him.”

“I am happy to see the gentleman,” answered Van Tassel, taking another look, while at the same time he glanced his eye at an alphabetical list of the attorneys and counsellors, to see what place I occupied among them.  “Very happy to see the gentleman, who has quite lately commenced practice, I should think by his age, and my not remembering the name.”

“There must be a beginning to all things, Mr. Van Tassel,” I replied, with a calmness that I could see the old usurer did not like.

“Very true, sir, and I hope your future success will be in proportion to the lateness of your appearance at the bar.  Your companion has much more the air of a sailor than of a lawyer.”—­This was true enough, there being no mistaking Marble’s character, though I had put on a body-coat to come ashore in;—­“I presume he is not in the practice.”

“That remains to be seen, sir.” answered Marble.  “Having told you my friend’s name, Mr. Van Tassel, I will now tell you my own.  I am called Moses Marble Wetmore Van Duser Oloff, sir, or some such bloody thing; and you’re welcome to take your pick out of the whole list.  I’ll answer to either of them aliases.”

“This is so extraordinary and unusual, gentlemen, I scarce know what to make of it.  Has this visit any connection with Mrs. Wetmore, or her farm, or the mortgage I have been foreclosing on the last?”

“It has, sir; and I am that Mrs. Wetmore’s son—­yes sir, the only child of that dear, good, old soul.”