Merchant Fairbanks sold goods in Summerfield, and undertook large dealings with the farmers there; buying their crops and bartering in smaller transactions, for butter and cheese, wool and feathers, wood and ashes, eggs and paper rags. He had tarried in town only two or three years, and few were intimately acquainted with him, although many supposed that they knew him well; and few men enjoyed more confidence or love.

He possessed a tall and imposing person; a face that all declared "fine," and "noble;" a large and glowing chestnut eye; a serene and inspiring presence; and hair so dark, that it reflected at times stray tints of purple, and was lustrous and smooth as a blackbird's wing, He was scrupulous in the arrangement of his attire, and still there was a studied contrivance of modest dignity about it all, that attracted attention, and set off his honors.

He was an instant and accurate judge of character; he discerned by a glance of his quick perceptions the lights and shadows of the human mind, and was accomplished in manners that won the esteem of the people, and enlisted them warmly in his favor. He remembered little things, to accomplish great ones; he would call to your recollection some trifling fact of which you supposed all beside yourself unconscious, that would flatter your self-esteem in spite of you, and win for himself your approbation. He remembered the names of his customers and acquaintances, and called them emphatically, if he had seen them never but once before; he was particular to salute each man with his title, and whether that title was military, religious or judicial, if he was in any doubt of its particular elevation, he would be sure and get it so high that, when mistaken, a captain could answer to the appellation of major; a justice to that of judge; a meek disciple to that of deacon, and a preacher to that of doctor.

He knew many children in town, he spoke all their names, and told of some good-looking relative or friend of his on the Hudson, whom they strikingly resembled. He distinctly professed private religious and political opinions of his own, while he knew there were the best of people in all parties and persuasions, and put every one at perfect ease with whom he conversed, convincing them that controversy was unprofitable, and the slight difference between them, after all, would be more in talk than in truth. He was a popular merchant, and the central attraction of several gay circles in the town.

With her searching discernment, Mrs. Fabens had discovered in him more than one design which she pronounced artful; she studied his character, and told her husband and daughter in confidence, she believed him a cunning flatterer, and a cheat; and that he would not always sail in smooth water in Summerfield.

But Fabens would hardly listen for a moment to her surmises. He had dealt with Merchant Fairbanks considerably; he had always believed him honest and manly, and he joined the multitude in much of the praise which they bestowed upon him.

As for Fanny, though she had not given the gentleman a great many thoughts, she regarded him favorably, and found him a most mannerly salesman, an affable and gallant man. She thought him far better than many who ran after him, and she was in no wise averse to consider him her friend.

"But you may depend upon it," said Mrs. Fabens to her husband, seriously—"depend upon it, he is not so particular and loud, in calling you 'Squire' for nothing; and it cannot be always a mistake, when he says 'Judge Fabens;' nor does he consult your opinion on so many things, because the opinion has the value of a straw in his estimation. He may never injure you, and I will not fear that he can; but it will be well to reserve a little confidence till he is better known, and not be too quickly carried away with him."

But Fabens was still confident that Fairbanks was honorable and worthy of respect and trust; he was often at his store; he often relied on his integrity for important considerations; and he was well assured that he was a man of merit and justice, and entitled to his enviable name. And so marked was his confidence, it had induced Fairbanks to come without hesitation again to buy all the wheat he could sell, and ask to have credit till January. He offered a fairer price than Fabens had hoped to obtain that season, and he engaged it on the desired time.

Fairbanks was unusually social and winning that afternoon, when he found them rising from the lunch in the field; and he conversed freely and pleasantly with Mrs. Fabens and her daughter, as they departed for the house; and then turned to Fabens and conversed a long while, saying at last—"That is your only daughter, I believe, Judge?"

"Yes, and only child, now, I suppose, that we have on earth," answered
Fabens.

"You may think I am too free, comparative stranger as I am, in my conversation with her," said Fairbanks.

"O, no; I like to see folks familiar and friendly. Familiarity is the life of company, while stiffness and formality give it a chill which is quite disagreeable to me," said Fabens.

"Perhaps I should not be so familiar to her; but she reminds me so much of a dear sister of mine on the Hudson, that I feel attracted towards her; and it seemed every moment as if my sister was going to speak to me. She is a good sister, too, and quite intelligent, if I am her brother; and I think I have a right to say it. And there is that same trembling modesty, that same blushing innocence and blooming beauty, to remind me of my sister; and had her hair been a shade or two darker, and her teeth not so ivory white; I believe I should have forgotten I was talking to a stranger. You will pardon my frankness, Squire, I know you will. I am apt to talk right out just as I happen to feel."

"Certainly, certainly, Mr. Fairbanks. I always admired frankness. Perhaps you say too much of our daughter; but she is a very good sort of a girl; and we tried, as far as we were able, to give her a common-sense view of things, and have her respectable. I am thankful that she is not as brazen as some girls; and good health has flushed her face with fresh and blooming looks."

"You needn't fear for that girl—pardon my freedom, Squire. No young lady of such a turned forehead, and such eyes and address, ever came short of what good parents desired."

"Then you are a phrenologist, Mr. Fairbanks?"

"I have studied such things considerably, and am not often mistaken. High and full in all the frontal and coronal regions—such heads are never given to flirts or fools."

"She is just as the Lord has permitted her to be; and we are thankful that she has filled our home with so much light and joy."

"I know she must be dutiful; and at the same time wishing to know the whys and wherefores of things, she asks a few questions, I suspect, that she may know something, and have an opinion of her own."

"She never did a thing, as I recollect, that caused us an hour's regret; but, as you say, she wishes to know things for herself; and sometimes, when we have been tired and dull, she has wearied us with questions. She has a great mind to acquire knowledge, and have an intelligent opinion; and we ought never to be impatient with her, or refuse an answer."

"She may thank father and mother for that disposition, I suspect. How much she looks like her mother! And still she has your forehead, and eyes, almost—if I remember right; and I should know she was your daughter, if I met her in France."

"Her eyes are much lighter and bluer than mine; but they may resemble them in shape and size. As for her hair—"

"I was just a-going to ask where she got that fairy flaxen hair?"

"We cannot tell where the color came from, except from our white blood.
My hair was light when a boy."

"That then accounts for hers."

"But never so milk-white as hers."

"Hers will grow dark, you may depend; it will be dark as yours when as old. But what if it is not? I should like it all the better as it is; it is handsome enough, and it is not so common as brown or black."

"But here it is nearly dark, and I have not had the manners to invite you to the house. Come, go in with me, and take a dish of tea."

"O Squire, I beg you to excuse me. I have some business at home that I must attend to to-night, and I must go. But that is the way with me, always! When I am in good company, I never know how time flits by, nor where to break off my talk. Come over and see me, Squire! Do come and see me. Good night." And as Fairbanks went for his horse to go home, Fabens ordered his men to quit work, and they all returned to the house in excellent spirits for supper and sleep.

Fabens had made it the effort of his life to resist flattery, and preserve a decent self-respect without a vain emotion; but it never grieved him to call him Squire; and there was much in what Fairbanks said and suggested, which he thought evinced uncommon discernment, and a clear and discriminating mind; and he was happy in the belief that it came right up from his heart, warm and sincere. He determined that he would not allow his own heart to take any flattery from what he had heard; yet what was said of Fanny—and her father and mother also!—could not be displeasing, coming as it did from one of an elevated station and mind: and he concluded that it was right for him to be encouraged by the compliments, and congratulated himself on the happiness of such a family and such a friend.

He enjoyed a fine conversation with his cousin William that evening; and showed him his farm, and visited with him all he could, the next day; and the day following, William departed for the city, leaving many warm regards behind, and carrying home a large supply of sweet country summer in his soul.