Having thrown
out these hints to our readers, we beg them to accompany us once more to
the parlor of Clinton the gauger and his nephew.
"So, uncle, now that you have been promoted to the Supervisorship, you
abandon the farm; you abandon Ahadarra?"
"Why, won't I be out of the district, you blockhead? and you persist in
refusing it besides."
"Most positively; but I always suspected that Fethertonge was a
scoundrel, as his conduct in that very business with you was a
proo--hem, ahem."
"Go on," said the uncle, coolly, "don't be ashamed, Harry; I was nearly
as great a scoundrel in that business as he was. I told you before that
I look upon the world as one great pigeon, which every man who can,
without exposing, himself, is obliged to pluck. Now, in the matter of
the farm, I only was about to pluck out a feather or two to put in my
own nest--or yours, if you had stood it."
"At any rate, uncle, I must admit that you are exceedingly candid."
"No such thing, you fool; there is scarcely an atom of candor in my
whole composition--I mean to the world, whatever I may be to you.
Candor, Harry, my boy, is a virtue which very few in this life, as it
goes, can afford to practice--at least I never could."
"Well but, uncle, is it not a pity to see that honest family ruined and
driven out of the country by the villany of Burke on the one hand,
and the deliberate fraud and corruption of Fethertonge, on the
other.
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