he-he. If you will come and see us at Carniwell we shall be very happy-very.'

'Thank you, ma'am,' replied Timothy, 'but I don't often go to Carniwell on business; and I don't often leave home but for that. And that reminds me that I must be off now.'

'Wont you have a cup of tea before you go?' said Sampson; you needn't be in such a hurry.'

'No uncle, thank you. Mrs. Griffin, Mr. Griffin, I wish you good day. Good afternoon, uncle.'

There, now, cousin,' said Mrs. Griffin, 'I thought he would be off in a huff: only see, if he hasn't left his grafts behind him!'

59

LEGACY HUNTING.

IN TWO CHAPTERS.

CHAPTER II.

AFTER the incident previously narrated, Mrs. Griffir. was a constant visitor at her dear cousin Smith's.' Especially did she make it a point of driving her gig, as she called it, to B every Saturday, that she might enjoy the pleasure of hearing her dear cousin read his delightful verses. She wouldn't lose the treat, no, not for any money. She was quite sure that if cousin Smith would print his verses, they would sell all over the country in no time: it was quite a sin and a shame that it shouldn't be done. She knew what poetry was, if other people didn't; she was always fond of poetry-very-even when she was a child; and she had read poetry too, though she couldn't say that she was fond of reading anything else; it was a great waste of time in general. But of all the verses that she ever read, cousin Smith's beat them out and out; and she would say it if it were with her last breath ;-yes, that she would.

'Solid pudding,' says the proverb, 'is better than empty praise.' But as Sampson had plenty of solid pudding to spare, it was but fair that cousin Griffin should get a little of it, in exchange for the lighter article. And besides, how very kind of her to pay such attentions! Timothy Baker would not do it, though he lived close at hand: not he, a sordid fel

low, always groping in his tan-pits! So it is not to be wondered at that the Griffins showed tokens of rising in the world. The gig was fresh painted and lined; the old horse came out in a new harness; Mrs. Griffin sported a real sable muff, and boa to match, the next winter, and new silks and satins the following summer; and, more than this, her husband seemed to take a stride in advance too; he evidently grew bigger, nay, he actually looked taller by a full inch than when he first visited cousin Smith. Then, somehow or other, he had always money in his pocket, and began to speculate as a horse dealer as well as practice as a horse doctor. Dear Cousin Smith! Two suns cannot shine in one hemisphere. As cousin Griffin rose, nephew Baker set; and all Bsaw, as plain as plain could be, what would be the end of it. Timothy himself began to think that he might have carried his independence a little too far.

'Well, never mind,' was his winding up of a conversation with his wife one day; 'uncle has a right to do what he likes with his own; and if he does not choose to leave us a penny, why, we sha'n't have to thank him for it, that's all.'

But that was not quite all. On that same day, a conversation of a somewhat similar import, but with a different result, had been carried on in the back parlour of the banking house of Maximus, Major, and Magnus, in a neighbouring town.

'I say,' quoth Mr. Maximus, 'how does Baker's account stand with us ?'

'He is rather deep in,' said Mr. Magnus.

“

'Yes, added Mr. Major; but then, you know, he is all right he pays up interest well; and then his old uncle wont live for ever.'

:

'That for his old uncle,' replied Mr. Maximus, snapping his finger and thumb; 'I have had good information to day, at B, that old Smith means to leave his property in another direction.'

Hereupon Major and Magnus looked very much surprised, and Maximus very important.

'Yes,' Mr. Maximus went on, 'Smith has taken up with another branch of the family, and has this very day-I had it from a sure hand-completely altered his will in their favour, and so Baker, of course, comes off minus.'

'And coming off minus, of course wont do for Maximus, Major, and Magnus,' remarked Mr. Mag

nus.

Very good, very good indeed, Mr. Magnus,' said Mr Maximus; and therefore we must stop supplies, and bring down his balance to a minimus.'

'Good again,-quite witty, sir,' interposed Mr. Major, but how shall we manage it? You know we have always told Baker to make himself easy about his account, and that he might overdraw to the amount of five hundred at any time; and he is not anything like that behind.'

Well, well, we wont press him all at once: we must give him time-say six months-to clear up in.' Accordingly, the next day's post brought a very polite note to Timothy Baker from his bankers, stating how very much they were concerned to put their esteemed friend to inconvenience; but that their calls for money were very pressing, and they would feel obliged by Mr. Baker's attention to the enclosed statement, by which he would see that a balance of £276 18s. 4d. was standing against him in their books; that they had agreed to give Mr. Baker six months for its liquidation; and that they hoped this arrangement would be agreeable, &c., &c.

On the same day in which the preceding conversations were held, Mrs. Griffin drove homeward from B in hot haste. The poor old horse steamed like a boiling tea-kettle when she threw the reins to Jairus.

"There, Griffin; I have done it at last,' she exclaimed, as she threw herself in her arm chair, to her

husband, who had given up the gig and horse to the care of his hostler.

'Done what, love?'

'Done what, love! done what! As if you didn't know what I have been trying to do this year and a half or more! Done what? Why, I have got that old fool to make a new will. Done what, indeed!'

'Well love, don't talk so loud. But do you know what he has done for us?'

'No, not exactly; only I know he was shut in with his lawyer for an hour or more; and he told me afterwards that he had put us down in his will for something that will make us gentlefolks for the rest of our lives. We shall be taken quite by surprise, he said, some day or other, when he is dead and gone.— Ah!-'

The six months were nearly expired, and Timothy groaned inwardly at the prospect before him.

Mrs. Griffin was as attentive, and as much in fa

vour as ever.

Sampson went on writing poetry, and reading it to his dear cousin, when a sudden event put a stop to his labours. He was found dead in his bed one fine October morning.

We may pass over the intermediate space between this occurrence and the day of the funeral, only premising that everything decorous and proper was duly attended to and arranged by two ancient friends of deceased, who stated that they acted by the directions of poor Sampson, and as his executors, which they declared themselves to be.

The day of the funeral arrived. Mr. and Mrs. Baker were there, of course; and both seemed and felt solemn, for in spite of his peculiarities, they had respected their uncle when alive; and now he was gone, they forgot his weaknesses. Mr. and Mrs.

Griffin were there; he looking greener than ever, and she breathing grief and despair with every breath.