It appears that long ago there was a family quarrel at Carnaby, England, and though we do not know what it was all about, the owner of what we understand is an encumbered estate turned out his son, who had the good sense to come out to this country, where he did pretty well.

He died and left a son, Mr.Henry Alton, well known in the Somasco district, who appears to be a credit to the country which took his father in.
The owner of Carnaby dying later, left the ancestral property to him, and, as in this case there does not seem to be a wicked uncle, Mr.
Deringham, the next of kin and a distinguished London financier who has, we believe, had some dealings in local mines, has come out to look for him.

Mr.Alton of Somasco will probably stop right where he is if he is the sensible man his neighbours seem to think him." "That's correct ?" said Hallam, glancing at Deringham.
"I knew who you were when I saw you." "Yes," said Deringham.

"The taste is questionable, but I can't deny its comparative accuracy." "Then," said Hallam, "Alton stands between you and this Carnaby property ?" "I believe so," said Deringham quietly.
"It's a big estate ?" said Hallam, and Alice Deringham, who knew his capabilities, wondered when her father would effectually silence this presumptuous stranger.

In the meanwhile he, however, showed no intention of doing so.
"No," he said languidly.