dreamed of being a sculptor."

"Well, here it is," said he. "I took up the statuary contract on our new

capitol; I took it up at first as a deal; and then it occurred to me it

would be better to keep it in the family. It meets your idea; there's

considerable money in the thing; and it's patriotic. So, if you say the

word, you shall go to Paris, and come back in three years to decorate

the capitol of your native State. It's a big chance for you, Loudon; and

I'll tell you what--every dollar you earn, I'll put another alongside of

it. But the sooner you go, and the harder you work, the better; for

if the first half-dozen statues aren't in a line with public taste in

Muskegon, there will be trouble."

CHAPTER II. ROUSSILLON WINE.

My mother's family was Scotch, and it was judged fitting I should pay a

visit on my way Paris-ward, to my Uncle Adam Loudon, a wealthy retired

grocer of Edinburgh. He was very stiff and very ironical; he fed me

well, lodged me sumptuously, and seemed to take it out of me all the

time, cent per cent, in secret entertainment which caused his spectacles

to glitter and his mouth to twitch. The ground of this ill-suppressed

mirth (as well as I could make out) was simply the fact that I was an

American. "Well," he would say, drawing out the word to infinity, "and

I suppose now in your country, things will be so and so." And the whole

group of my cousins would titter joyously. Repeated receptions of

this sort must be at the root, I suppose, of what they call the Great

American Jest; and I know I was myself goaded into saying that my

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