remains for some time in conversation with a royal duke, who takes his
arm, and with him passes into the street. The duke is a member of this
great man's club, and offers him a seat in his brougham. Amid the cheers
of the people they drive away together. Inside the club there are fresh
congratulations, and it is proposed to arrange an impromptu dinner, at
which the duke will preside. But with modesty and honest thanks the great
man declines. He pleads an engagement. He had pleaded this engagement the
day before to a well-known society. After his health is proposed, he
makes his adieux, and leaving the club, walks away towards a West-end
square. In one of its streets he pauses, and enters a building called
"Providence Chambers." His servant hands him a cablegram. He passes to
his library, and, standing before the fire, opens it. It reads: "My wife
and I send congratulations to the great man."

Jaspar Hume stands for a moment looking at the fire, and then says
simply: "I wish poor old Bouche were here." He then sits down and writes
this letter:

My dear Friends,--Your cablegram has made me glad. The day is over.
My latest idea was more successful than I even dared to hope; and
the world has been kind. I went down to see your boy, Jaspar, at
Clifton last week. It was his birthday, you know--nine years old,
and a clever, strong-minded little fellow. He is quite contented.
As he is my god-child, I again claimed the right of putting a
thousand dollars to his credit in the bank,--I have to speak of
dollars to you people living in Canada--which I have done on his
every birthday. When he is twenty-one he will have twenty-one
thousand dollars--quite enough for a start in life. We get along
well together, and I think he will develop a fine faculty for
science. In the summer, as I said, I will bring him over to you.