his or her, &c.; which efforts shall comprise an
advertisement, thrice repeated, in a leading
London journal, as well as the local papers of
Liverpool and Birmingham. And, in default of
such efforts proving successful within a year and
a day, then my said executors shall expend the
fund aforesaid in the purchase of some sufficing
tokens for the reward of any remarkable deeds
of personal prowess, which shall be and occur
within three years of my decease."

The singular wording of this bequest created
much local interest at the time, and attracted
an unusual amount of attention to the character
and history of a harmless little man who might
have otherwise slipped out of this bustling
world as noiselessly as he had dwelt in it.

Mr. John Smith was the only son of a Halifax
apothecary, who left him at his death, which
did not occur until the "boy" was past forty,
the possessor of an income of five hundred
pounds a year. John had been destined (in his
cradle) for his father's profession; but nature,
in the form of a peculiarly timid and susceptible
temperament, raised such objections, that the
project had to be abandoned, and trout-fishing
in summer, and snipe-shooting in winter, formed
the leading occupations of the young man's
life, until these sports were interrupted, for a
season, by the decease of his respected sire, and
the consequent duty of looking into his own
affairs. This discharged, Mr. John returned to
the snipe and trout with undiminished ardour.

The change in his habits was, indeed, so
slight as to be hardly perceptible. Even the
two old servants, husband and wife, who had,
from time immemorial to him, formed the
domestic establishment, and whom he (John)
had, from kindly motives, dismissed,
superannuated, with a handsome allowance, insisting
that Master John was not getting on nicely
without them, came quietly back; dismissed,
without the slightest ceremony, the provisional
maid; and resumed their accustomed duties with
all the vigour of youth!

John Smith has been described, by a gentleman
who lived in his immediate neighbourhood,
as an under-educated but well-mannered little
man, with a pug nose, watery eyes, and a funny
little flickering smile, which seemed to have been
caught from the ripple of the brook over which
it had been his delight to hang since boyhood.
Take John Smith altogether, body and mind, he
was perhaps the very last individual in the
world to whom anything romantic or mysterious
was likely to attach. And yet John Smith had
a romance and a mystery; and (like a queer
little parenthesis in the social annals of the
world) here we chronicle the same, taking up
the history about two years subsequent to the
commencement of John's orphanhood.

Although Mr. Smith had never been in the
habit of giving regular dinner-parties, it was a
frequent custom with him to invite two or three
of his chief gossips to partake of a brace of
Wandle trout, most of which, weight, condition,
disposition, and all, were (while yet in
their native element) so well known to that
experienced fisherman, that it must have been
like diminishing the circle of his personal
acquaintance to dine upon them. These, with
a neck of mutton and any pretty little tiny
kickshaw, such as Justice Shallow with
commendable judgment delegated to his cook,
formed a light and pleasant banquet, which
left the intellect clear, and temper sweet, for the
rubber of threepenny whist that wound up the
evening.

It was on one of these festive occasions
that attention was drawn to the first of a
series of remarkable objects, which seemed
altogether out of keeping with the modest
adornments of the Smith mansion. It was a
massive silver chalice, of most beautiful
workmanship, displaying three compartments, on
which were represented scenes from the
"tauromachia," or classic bull fights. It stood upon
a blue velvet-covered pedestal, beneath a glass
case, which, while it permitted a full inspection
of the masterly devices on its gleaming sides,
protected the exquisite object from dust or soil.

"Hallo, Jack, that's a fine thing!" remarked
friend number one, suddenly awakening, as it
seemed, to the merits of the "thing" to which
he had been sitting opposite for half an hour.
"I must put on my specs for this. Magnificent,
by jingo! Look at it, Gripper. Toro—what?
Was this your father's, Jack?"

Mr. Smith coloured and hesitated.

"Well, no. My father he didn't seem to
care much about them sort of things; but, I
say, Gripper, just you try that brown sherry.
Join us, Peters, will you?"

"If I were to be guilty of the vulgarity of
appraising a man's property at his own table,"
said Mr. Slade, the curate, "I should be
disposed to affirm that the individual who became
possessed of that chalice at anything under
three hundred and fifty pounds, was a lucky
fellow."

"Where upon earth did he get it?" said
friend number three to friend number four. " I
didn't give our host credit for tastes of this
kind."

"Aha! There's a mystery, I take it, about
that chalice," remarked the ungrateful Gripper,
who, even while swallowing the brown sherry,
intended to silence him, had noticed the
embarrassment of the little host. "I must examine
more minutely;" and he stretched out his hand
towards the cup.

Smith caught him nervously by the sleeve.
"Not for worlds, old fellow! Let it alone,
can't you?" he gasped; and sank back into his
chair with a perceptible shiver. Mr. Slade
adroitly turned the conversation.

Several months passed, yet the surprise
created by Mr. Smith's purchase had not wholly
subsided, when a second and yet more costly
object made its appearance in the drawing-room
at Allsop-terrace. This time it was a gigantic
vase, than which may be seen (especially in
Germany) many baths of smaller dimensions.
It was composed of about equal quantities of
gold and silver, and was, like its predecessor,