After these speeches the Convention proceeded to the ballot, when it was found that nine-tenths of all the votes cast were for Abel Newt, Esquire.

General Belch rose, and in an enthusiastic manner moved that the nomination be declared unanimous.  It was carried with acclamation.  Mr. Musher proposed an adjournment, to meet at the polls.  The vote was unanimous.  Mr. Enos Slugby rose, and called for three cheers for “the Honorable Abel Newt, our next talented and able representative in Congress.”  The Convention rose and roared.

“Members of the Convention who wish to call upon the candidate will fall into line!” shouted Mr. Condor; then leading the way, and followed by the members, he went down stairs into the street.  A band of music was at hand, by some thoughtful care, and, following the beat of drums and clangor of brass, the Convention marched toward Grand Street.

CHAPTER LXVIII.

THE INDUSTRIOUS APPRENTICE.

Good news fly fast.  On the wings of the newspapers the nomination of Abel Newt reached Delafield, where Mr. Savory Gray still moulded the youthful mind.  He and his boys sat at dinner.

“Fish! fish!  I like fish,” said Mr. Gray.  “Don’t you like fish, Farthingale?”

Farthingale was a new boy, who blushed, and said, promptly,

“Oh! yes, Sir.”

“Don’t you like fish, Mark Blanding?  Your brother Gyles used to,” asked Mr. Gray.

“Yes, Sir,” replied that youth, slowly, and with a certain expression in his eye, “I suppose I do.”

“All boys who are in favor of having fish dinner on Fridays will hold up their right hands,” said Mr. Gray.  He looked eagerly round the table.  “Come, come! up, up, up!” said he, good-naturedly.

“That’s it.  Mrs. Gray, fish on Fridays.”

“Mr. Gray,” said Mark Blanding.

“Well, Mark?”

“Ain’t fish cheaper than meat?”

“Mark, I am ashamed of you.  Go to bed this instant.”

Mark was unjust, for Uncle Savory had no thought of indulging his purse, but only his palate.

When the criminal was gone Mr. Gray drew a paper from his pocket, and said,

“Boys, attend!  In this paper, which is a New York paper, there is an account of the nomination of a member of Congress—­a member of Congress, boys,” he repeated, slowly, dwelling upon the words to impress their due importance.  “What do you think his name is?  Who do you suppose it is who is nominated for Congress?”

He waited a moment, but the boys, not having the least idea, were silent.

“Well, it is Abel Newt, who used to sit at this very table.  Abel Newt, one of Mr. Gray’s boys.”

He waited another moment, to allow the overwhelming announcement to have its due effect, while the scholars all looked at him, holding their knives and forks.

“And there is not one of you, who, if he be a good boy, may not arrive at the same eminence.  Think, boys, any one of you, if you are good, may one day get nominated to Congress, as the Honorable Mr. Newt is, who was once a scholar here, just like you.  Hurrah for Mr. Gray’s boys!  Now eat your dinners.”