encumbrance of wealth." He raced, built yachts,
and got over head and ears in debt," says one
account; his last plaything being a pony, which
used to come on the table after dinner. In
February, 1866, he died without children; but
two months after, Lady Tichborne gave birth to a
son, who thus became the infant baronet and
the supposed lawful heir. Early on New Year's
day last, a man, professing to be the Roger
Charles Tichborne supposed to be dead twelve
years and more, arrived at Tichborne Park, and
claimed the estates. He saw his mother, the
Dowager Lady Tichborne, and satisfied her as
to his identity; he saw, too, some of the older
tenantry at Alresford, and after having convinced
them that his eyes twinkled and his right
knee turned inwards, as the real young Roger's
used to do, and after having given one man,
by particular request, "a full-faced view of
his back," he was accepted among them all as
the right thing, how oddly so ever his return
had been brought about, and hailed as the
indisputable heir of the estate. The young
Lady Tichborne, however, and her friends,
naturally dispute his claim in favour and
defence of the child's rights; and the matter is still
unsettled; giving frequent occasion for
newspaper paragraphs of conflicting views—some
holding to the new man's identity, and others to
his false impersonation, and each putting forth
various anecdotes of more or less questionable
authenticity, proving the right and justice of
the two beliefs. The man's account of
himself is full of interest and adventure.
When he left England, in 1853, he went to
South America, crossing from Peru to Rio
Janeiro, and there embarking in a small
schooner, the Bella, of Liverpool, bound for
Jamaica. The schooner foundered by the way.
Proof of this was given by sundry spars and
fragments picked up at sea, sufficient at least
to convince the underwriters who paid the
insurance, and the family at Alfreston, who
mourned the son they make dead to themselves
and the world at large. But Roger, or at least
the man who assumes to be Roger, says that
he was rescued from the wreck by a schooner,
the Osprey, and by her conveyed to Australia,
where he took the name of De Castro, living
at a place called Wagga-Wagga, and following
the not very aristocratic calling of a horse-
dealer and butcher. Here he heard of his
father's death, and young Alfred's accession to
the title; but not wishing to disturb his
brother he said, of whom he had been always
fond, he kept himself and his claims in abeyance,
until news of his death, too, came to him, and
that he had died without leaving any children
behind him. He was told this by one Andrew
Bogle, an old negro servant of his uncle's, Sir
Edward Doughty; and on hearing it he determined
to come back to England with his wife
and child, and claim the title and estates which
were his by right. How the case will turn
remains to be seen, but which way so ever it
goes, it will form in the future, as now in the
present, a cause célèbre.

The Smyths of Ashton Court had a fight for
their possessions. There was something of quite
old-time high-handedness in the way in which
"Sir Richard Smyth," accompanied by his
solicitor, Mr. Rodham, waited upon Mr. Way,
the uncle and guardian of the young heir,
demanding the keys of the mansion, and the
instant discharge of the servants, and giving
them all two hours for preparation and departure.
That first interview ended by both claimant
and solicitor being handed over to the servants,
and "deposited outside the house"—a mild
periphrasis for being "kicked out of the
house." Mr. Rodham would not have more
to do with the matter, but Mr. Cattlin,
another solicitor, would. The tenantry had
notices not to pay their rents save to himself, as
"Sir Richard's" agent; and Sir Richard and
his family affected quite courtly pomp at Bristol
where they lived; which was a slight change in
the condition of a man who, but a year ago, had
been a pauper. All sorts of rumours were afloat
concerning wills and legal documents of supreme
importance; and on the last day of Trinity
Term, 1853, Mr. Cattlin served Mr. Way with
a writ of ejectment, at the same time informing
the family solicitors that "he was in possession
of a will under the seal and signature of Sir
Hugh Smyth, which rendered the title of his
client, Sir Richard Smyth, indisputable." "Sir
Richard," it, must be observed, claimed to be
the old man's heir by a first and secret marriage.
Also, there was a brooch, a seal, a portrait, and
a pigtail. Mr. Bovill, the plaintiff's counsel,
made out a capital case. But after Sir Frederick
Thesiger had handled it, the case collapsed.
By skilful cross-examination he brought out
these startling facts: that the so-called Sir
Richard Smyth was in truth neither more nor
less than the son of old John Provis, of
Warminster; that he himself had had the name of
Jane Gookin (plaintiff's grandmother) engraved
on the brooch; that he himself, too, had ordered
the seal with the Smyth arms, and the motto,
"Qui capit capitor," the faulty vowel slipping
into the legend undetected; that he had tampered
with writings, and forged the documents;
and that, being inexpert, he had written the
will, dated 1823, on parchment prepared in a
certain only too modern way; and that he had
sent the will to himself through Frederick Crane.
His last proof, a pigtail two feet long, with which
he said he had been born, as was his son—though
his was only six inches long—was not held
conclusive against the evidence of fraud and forgery;
and the jury brought him in guilty, and the
judge sentenced him to twenty years' transportation.
The forged will, the Bible, the jewels, the
picture, and the pigtail were all impounded, and
are still in the possession of the family. The
suit cost the Smyths nearly six thousand
pounds; but they have the pigtail to show for
their money.