No: he could hear of nothing.

Then, after a great struggle with himself, he called upon his uncle,
Philip Staines, a retired M.D., to see if he would do anything for him.
He left this to the last, for a very good reason: Dr. Philip was an
irritable old bachelor, who had assisted most of his married relatives;
but, finding no bottom to the well, had turned rusty and crusty, and now
was apt to administer kicks instead of checks to all who were near and
dear to him. However, Christopher was the old gentleman's favorite, and
was now desperate; so he mustered courage, and went. He was graciously
received--warmly, indeed. This gave him great hopes, and he told his
tale.

The old bachelor sided with Mr. Lusignan. "What!" said he, "do you
want to marry, and propagate pauperism? I thought you had more sense.
Confound it all I had just one nephew whose knock at my street-door did
not make me tremble; he was a bachelor and a thinker, and came for a
friendly chat; the rest are married men, highwaymen, who come to say,
'Stand and deliver;' and now even you want to join the giddy throng.
Well, don't ask me to have any hand in it. You are a man of promise; and
you might as well hang a millstone round your neck as a wife. Marriage
is a greater mistake than ever now; the women dress more and manage
worse. I met your cousin Jack the other day, and his wife with seventy
pounds on her back; and next door to paupers. No; whilst you are a
bachelor, like me, you are my favorite, and down in my will for a lump.
Once marry, and you join the noble army of foot-pads, leeches, vultures,
paupers, gone coons, and babblers about brats--and I disown you."

There was no hope from old Crusty. Christopher left him, snubbed and