You would find this old gentleman very proud upon many points: but more especially of his beautiful daughter--the mistress of the mansion--and the half-dozen pretty prattlers who cling to his skirts, and call him their "dear grandpa."

Leaving him for a time, you would come in contact with two other individuals attached to the establishment.

One is the _groom_ of the "stole,"--by name Phelim O'Neal--who has full charge of the horses. The other a coachman of sable skin, yclept Pluto Poindexter; who would scorn to look at a horse except when perched upon the "box," and after having the "ribbons" deftly delivered into his hands.

Since we last saw him, the gay Pluto has become tamed down to a staid and sober Benedict--black though he be.

Florinda--now the better half of his life--has effected the transformation.

There is one other name known at Casa del Corvo, with which you cannot fail to become acquainted. You will hear it mentioned, almost every time you sit down to dinner: for you will be told that the turkey at the head of the table, or the venison at its opposite end, is the produce of a rifle that rarely misses its aim.

During the course of the meal--but much more over the wine--you will hear talk of "Zeb Stump the hunter."

You may not often see him. He will be gone from the hacienda, before you are out of your bed; and back only after you have retired. But the huge gobbler seen in the "smoke-house," and the haunch of venison hanging by its side, are evidence he has been there.

While sojourning at Casa del Corvo, you may get hints of a strange story connected with the place--now almost reduced to a legend.

The domestics will tell it you, but only in whispers: since they know that it is a theme _tabooed_ by the master and mistress of the mansion, in whom it excites sad souvenirs.

It is the story of the Headless Horseman.