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Rhapsody was at breakfast the next morning–a servant announced a gentleman in the parlor desirous of an interview with Mr. Rhapsody–it was granted, and soon Jones, the boot-maker, confronted the Rev. Mr. So-and-So. Though an inclination to smile played about the pleasant features of the reverend gentleman, he assumed to be severe upon what he called the duplicity of Mr. Rhapsody; and that gentleman patiently hearing the story out, quietly asked:

“Are you, sir, here as an accuser–denouncer, or an ambassador of peace and good will?”

“The latter, sir, is my self-constituted mission,” said the reverend gentleman.

“Then,” said Rhapsody, “I am ready to make all necessary concessions–a clean breast of it, you may say. I am in a false position–struggling against public opinion–false pride–falsely, and yet honestly, working my way through the world. I am no more nor less, nominally, than Jones, the boot-maker. Now,” continued Rhapsody, “if a false purpose covers not a false heart also, I can yet be happy in the affections of Miss Somebody, and she in mine. For those who can battle as we have, against the common chances of indigence, upright and alone in our integrity, may surely yet win greater rewards by mutual consolation and support, our fortunes joined.”

“I have not been mistaken, then, sir,” said the reverend gentleman, “in your character, if I was in your occupation; and you may rely upon my friendly service in an amicable and definite arrangement of this very delicate matter.”

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When General Harrison took the “chair of state,” our friend Rhapsody was reinstated in his place, occupied years before, and by fortuitous circumstances he got still higher–an appointment of trust connected with a handsome salary; so that Jones, the boot-maker, was enabled to re-enter the Somebodies into the gay and fluctuating society at the national capital, from which they had been so unceremoniously driven by the death of the husband and father. Mrs. Somebody, that was, however, is now a much older and much wiser person, the wife of our ministerial friend, who vouches the difficulty he had in overcoming Mrs. Somebody’s repugnance to leather–and for sundry quibbles–yea, strong arguments against any blood of hers ever uniting with the fates and fortunes of a boot-maker; with what propriety, her experience has long since taught her. Alice is the happiest of women, mother of many fine children, the wife of a man poverty could not corrupt, if public opinion forced him to mask the means that gave him bread. Rhapsody is no longer a politician, or office-holder, but engaged in lucrative pursuits that yield comfort and position in society. To relate the trials, courtship and marriage of “Jones, the boot-maker,” is one of our friend Rhapsody’s standing jokes, to friends at the fireside and dinner table; but that such a safe and happy tableau would again befall parties so circumstanced, is a very material question; and the moral of our story, being rather complex, though very definite, we leave to society, and you, reader, to determine.