I remember hearing that when Daniel Webster was in London, and walked unattended through the streets, the coal-heavers and workmen took off their hats and stood bareheaded till he had gone by, thinking it was royalty that passed.

I think they would do the same for papa." "If he looks like a king, I know somebody who looks like a princess," thought the happy young fellow, gazing down upon the proud, dainty figure by his side; but he smiled as he said, "What a little aristocrat you are, Miss Ercildoune! what a pity you were born a Yankee!" "I am not a Yankee, Mr.Surrey," replied the little aristocrat, "if to be a Yankee is to be a native of America.

I was born on the sea." "And your mother, I know, was English." "Yes, she was English." "Is it rude to ask if your father was the same?
"No!" she answered emphatically, "my papa is a Virginian,--a Virginia gentleman,"-- the last word spoken with an untransferable accent,--"there are few enough of them." "So, so!" thought Willie, "here my riddle is read.
Southern--Virginia--gentleman.

No wonder she has no love to spend on country or flag; no wonder we couldn't agree.

And yet it can't be that,--what were the first words I ever heard from her mouth ?" and, remembering that terrible denunciation of the "peculiar institution" of Virginia and of the South, he found himself puzzled the more.
Just then there came into the picture-gallery, where they were wasting a pleasant morning, a young man to whom Surrey gave the slightest of recognitions,--well-dressed, booted, and gloved, yet lacking the nameless something which marks the gentleman.