received from your sainted uncle, my blessed husband; and of all my nephews and nieces, you are the one whose conduct in life has most pleased me."

When you consider that my aunt herself was one of seven married sisters, that all the Hoggarties were married in Ireland and mothers of numerous children, I must say that the compli ment my aunt paid me was a very handsome one.

"Dear aunt," says I, in a slow agitated voice, "I have often heard you say there were seventy-three of us in all, and believe me I do think your high opinion of me very compli mentary indeed: I'm unworthy of it - indeed I am."

"As for those odious Irish people," says my aunt, rather sharply, "don't speak of them, I hate them, and every one of their mothers" (the fact is, there had been a lawsuit about Hoggarty's property); "but of all my other kindred, you, Samuel, have been the most dutiful and affectionate to me. Your employers in London give the best accounts of your regularity and good conduct. Though you have had eighty pounds a year (a liberal salary), you have not spent a shilling more than your income, as other young men would; and you have devoted your month's holidays to your old aunt, who, I assure you, is grateful."

“Oh, maʼam!" said I. It was all that I could utter.

"Samuel," continued she. "I promised you a present, and here it is. I first thought of giving you money; but you are a regular lad, and don't want it. You are above money, dear Samuel. I give you what I value most in life the p, - the po, the po-ortrait of my sainted Hoggarty" (tears), set in the locket which contains the valuable diamond that you have often heard me speak of. Wear it, dear Sam, for my sake; and think of that angel in heaven, and of your dear aunt Susy."

She put the machine into my hands: it was about the size of the lid of a shaving-box; and I should as soon have thought of wearing it as of wearing a cocked hat and pigtail. I was so disgusted and disappointed that I really could not get out a single word.

When I recovered my presence of mind a little, I took the locket out of the bit of paper (the locket indeed! it was as big as a barn-door padlock), and slowly put it into my shirt. "Thank you, aunt," said I, with admirable raillery. "I shall always value this present for the sake of you, who gave it me; and it will recall to me my uncle, and my thirteen aunts in Ireland."

"I don't want you to wear it in that way!" shrieked Mrs.

Hoggarty, with the hair of those odious carroty women. You must have their hair removed."

"Then the locket will be spoiled, aunt."

“Well, sir, never mind the locket; have it set afresh.”

"Or suppose," said I, "I put aside the setting altogether: it is a little too large for the present fashion; and have the portrait of my uncle framed and placed over my chimney-piece, next to yours. It's a sweet miniature."

66 was

"That miniature," said Mrs. Hoggarty, solemnly, the great Mulcahy's chef-d'œuvre" (pronounced shy dewver, a favorite word of my aunt's; being, with the words bongtong and ally mode de Parry, the extent of her French vocabulary). You know the dreadful story of that poor, poor artist. When he had finished that wonderful likeness for the late Mrs. Hoggarty of Castle Hoggarty, county Mayo, she wore it in her bosom at the Lord Lieutenant's ball, where she played a game of piquet with the Commander-in-Chief. What could have

made her put the hair of her vulgar daughters round Mick's portrait, I can't think; but so it was, as you see it this day. Madam,' says the Commander-in-Chief, if that is not my friend Mick Hoggarty, I'm a Dutchman!' Those were his lordship's very words. Mrs. Hoggarty of Castle Hoggarty took off the brooch and showed it to him. "Who is the artist? says my lord. derful likeness I ever saw in my life!'

666

It's the most won

Mulcahy,' says she, of Ormond's Quay.' "Begad, I patronize him!' says my lord; but presently his face darkened, and he gave back the picture with a dissatisfied air. There is one fault in that portrait,' said his lordship, who was a rigid disciplinarian: and I wonder that my friend Mick, as a military man, should have overlooked it.'

"What's that?' says Mrs. Hoggarty of Castle Hoggarty. "Madam, he has been painted WITHOUT HIS SWORD-BELT!` and he took up the cards again in a passion, and finished the game without saying a single word.

The news was carried to Mr. Mulcahy the next day, and that unfortunate artist went mad immediately! He had set his whole reputation upon this miniature, and declared that it should be faultless. Such was the effect of the announcement upon his susceptible heart! When Mrs. Hoggarty died, your uncle took the portrait and always wore it himself. His sisters said it was for the sake of the diamond; whereas, ungrateful things! it was merely on account of their hair, and his love for the fine arts. As for the poor artist, my dear, some people said it was the

profuse use of spirit that brought on delirium tremens; but I don't believe it. Take another glass of Rosolio."

The telling of this story always put my aunt into great goodhumor, and she promised at the end of it to pay for the new setting of the diamond; desiring me to take it on my arrival in London to the great jeweller, Mr. Polonius, and send her the bill. The fact is," said she, that the goold in which the thing is set is worth five guineas at the very least, and you can have the diamond reset for two. However, keep the remainder, dear Sam, and buy yourself what you p'ease with it."

With this the old lady bade me adieu. The clock was striking twelve as I walked down the village, for the story of Mulcahy always took an hour in the telling, and I went away not quite so down-hearted as when the present was first made to me.

After all," thought I, "a diamond-pin is a handsome thing, and will give me a distingué air, though my clothes be never so shabby”—and shabby they were without any doubt. "Well," I said, “three guineas, which I shall have over, will buy me a couple of pairs of what-d'ye-call-'ems;" of which, entre nous, I was in great want, having just then done growing, whereas my pantaloons were made a good eighteen months before.

Well, I walked down the village, my hands in my brecchespocket; I had poor Mary's purse there, having removed the little things which she gave me the day before, and placed them

never mind where: but look you, in those days I had a heart, and a warm one too. I had Mary's purse ready for my aunt's donation, which never came, and with my own little stock of money besides, that Mrs. Hoggarty's card-parties had lessened by a good five-and-twenty shillings, I calculated that, after paying my fare, I should get to town with a couple of seven-shilling pieces in my pocket.

I walked down the village at a deuce of a pace; so quick that, if the thing had been possible, I should have overtaken ten o'clock that had passed by me two hours ago, when I was listening to Mrs. H.'s long stories over her terrible Rosolio. The truth is, at ten I had an appointment under a certain person's window, who was to have been looking at the moon at that hour, with her pretty quilled nightcap on, and her blessed hair in papers.

There was the window shut, and not so much as a candle in it; and though I hemmed and hawed, and whistled over the garden-paling, and sang a song of which Somebody was very fond, and even threw a pebble at the window, which hit it exactly at the opening of the lattice, I woke no one except