He would have put on towards him a patronizing air, and tried to excite in his mind a nobler ambition than to move in our circumscribed sphere, if something in the young man's steady, penetrating, half-mysterious eye had not always held him back: "I never can talk with that young associate or yours, uncle," he would say, now and then, to Judge Bigelow, "and I can't just make him out.

Is he stupid, or queer ?" The Judge would smile, or laugh quietly to himself, or perhaps answer in this wise: "I think Henry understands himself.

Still waters, you know, run deep." One day in February, on the occasion of a periodical visit to S----, young Dewey called in at Judge Bigelow's office, and finding Wallingford alone, sat down and entered into as familiar a talk with him as was possible, considering how little they had in common.

Ralph had a purpose in view, and as soon as he saw, or thought he saw, Wallingford's mind in the right mood, said-- "I am going to ask a particular favor, and you must not refuse." "If I can serve you in any thing, it will be my pleasure to do so," was the ready answer.
"You know that I am to be married next month ?" "So I have heard," replied Wallingford.
"You will stand my groomsman?
Don't say no!" He had seen an instant negative in the young man's face.
"Almost any thing else, but not that!" replied Henry, speaking with some feeling.

He was thrown off his guard by so unexpected a request.
"Come now, my good friend, don't take the matter so much to heart!" said Dewey, in a light way.