mentioned half of the said entire principal sum in
founding lesser Institutions of a similar kind to
the above in Manchester, Liverpool, Bristol and
Birmingham for the Benefit of the several classes
of persons above enumerated and all which
Institutions it is my Will shall be governed by the
same Laws and Regulations as the original
Institution or as near thereto as circumstance will
permit. ITEM I GIVE all the rest and residue
of my Funded Property Ready Money and
Securities for Money Merchandise Debts
Pictures Plate Furniture and all other my Property
not otherwise disposed of by this my Will (but
subject to the payment of my Debts Legacies
Funerals and Testamentary expenses) UNTO my
said three Sons in equal shares and in case any
dispute shall arise between them as to the division
thereof the matter shall be referred to my
Executors whose decision shall be final. LASTLY
I APPOINT my friends Richard Morton, Erasmus
Brooke, Daniel Shuttleworth, and Arthur
Mackenzie all of London, General Merchants, to
be the Executors of this my Will. IN WITNESS
whereof I the said Jacob Trefalden have
hereunto set my hand and seal the day and year
first above written.

                                     " 'JACOB TREFALDEN.

" 'Signed sealed published and declared by the
above named Jacob Trefalden as and for his last
Will and Testament in the presence of us who at
his request and in his presence have subscribed
our Names as Witnesses thereunto.

         " 'Signed      " 'NATHANIEL MURRAY.
                            " 'ALEXANDER LLOYD.' "

Mr. Beavington laid down the will, and took
off his glasses. The brothers sat staring at him,
like men of stone. William Trefalden was the
first to speak.

"I shall dispute this will," he said, looking
very pale, but speaking in a firm, low tone. "It
is illegal."

"It is a d —- d, unnatural, infamous swindle,"
stammered Mr. Fred, starting from his seat, and
shaking his clenched fist at the open document.
"If I had known what a cursed old fool—- "

"Hush, sir, hush, I entreat," interposed the
lawyer. "Let us respect the dead."

"Zounds! Mr. Beavington, we'll respect the
dead," said Captain Trefalden, bringing his hand
down heavily upon the table; "but I'll be
hanged if we'll respect the deed! If it costs me
every penny of the paltry five thousand, I'll fight
this matter out, and have justice."

"Patience, brother Jacob—patience, brother
Fred," said the youngest Trefalden. "I tell you
both, the will is illegal."

"How so, sir?" asked the lawyer, briskly.
"How so?"

"By the Mortmain Act passed but a few years
since—-"

"In seventeen hundred and thirty-six, statute
nine of his present Majesty King George the
Second," interposed Mr. Beavington.

"—which permits no land, nor money for the
purchase of land, to be given in trust for the
benefit of any charitable uses whatever."

The lawyer nodded approvingly.

"Very true, very true—very well remembered,
Mr. Will," he said, rubbing his hands; "but you
forget one thing."

"What do I forget?"

"That 'a citizen of London may, by the custom
of London, devise Land situate in London in
Mortmain; but he cannot devise Land out of the
city in Mortmain,' and for that quotation I can
give you chapter and verse, Mr. Will."

Mr. Will put his hand to bis head with a
smothered groan.

"Then, by Heavens!" said he, tremulously,
"'tis all over."

It was all over, indeed. Mr. Fred had spoken
truly of the pride which Jacob Trefalden took in
his fortune. Great as it was, he resolved to
build it yet higher, and sink its foundations yet
more broadly and deeply. To leave a colossal
inheritance to an unborn heir, and to found a
charity which should perpetuate his name through
all time, were the two projects nearest and
dearest to that old man's heart. He had brooded
over them, matured them, exulted in them
secretly, for many a past year. The marriage of
Captain Trefalden in November, 1759, only
hastened matters, and legalised a foregone
conclusion. Well was it for Jacob Trefalden's sons
that his fortune amounted to that odd twenty-
five thousand pounds. The Half Million had
slipped through their fingers, and was lost to
them for ever.

CHAPTER I. THE PASSING OP A HUNDRED YEARS.

WHEN the princess in the fairy tale went to
sleep for a hundred years, everything else in that
enchanted palace went to sleep at the same time.
The natural course of things was suspended. Not
a hair whitened on any head within those walls.
Not a spider spun its web over the pictures; not
a worm found its way to the books. The
very Burgundy in the cellar grew none the riper
for the century that it had lain there. Nothing
decayed, in short, and nothing improved. Very
different was it with this progressive England of
ours during the hundred years that went by
between the spring-time of 1760 and that of 1860,
one hundred years after. None went to sleep
in it. Nothing stood still. All was life, ferment,
endeavour. That endeavour, it is true, may not
always have been best directed. Some cobwebs
were spun; some worms were at work; some
mistakes were committed; but, at all events,
there was no stagnation. En revanche, if, when
we remember some of those errors, we cannot
help a blush, our hearts beat when we think of
the works of love and charity, the triumphs of
science, the heroes and victories which that
century brought forth. We lost America, it is true;
but we won Gibraltar, and we colonised Australia.
We fought the French on almost every sea and
shore upon the map, except, thank God! our