"Yes, sir", answered Gascoigne, with tolerable composure.

"Then you had better set about it. --Not but what you have plenty of time", he added hastily. I'm good for 20 years yet--the doctor says so."

"I'm glad to hear it", said Gascoigne dutifully.

"No, you're not. All the same, it is as well for you that you should have a few years to work up a practice in, for if I were to die tomorrow you would get nothing."

"Are you going out. sir?" inquired Gascoigne, puzzled what to say to this enigmatical utterance.

"Yes: I'm going to take that box to my bank. You can come with me, and pay half the cab fare", replied his uncle, chuckling at this characteristic joke.

He rang the bell, and sent his man for a cab. to which, in due course, Gascoigne escorted his amiable relative, while the porter carried the tin box. The young man submitted with much better grace than usual to his jokes and sarcasms. This was hardly surprising, for it is not difficult to be long-suffering with an elderly relation when one knows he has manifested his benevolence in the most effectual manner. On the other hand, the awkward fact that he was carrying off, clandestinely, the old man's will, was sufficiently disconcerting to render Gascoigne a trifle absent.

When he had deposited his uncle and his tin box at the bank-after duly paying his portion of the cab fare-Gascoigne had leisure to reflect upon the predicament he had placed himself in. Needless to say that he bitterly repented of his unpardonable curiosity; it would be more just to dwell upon his honest shame at what he had done. It seemed to him that only two courses were open to him; one, the more honorable, was to return the document frankly to his uncle: the other, to keep it carefully and to say nothing. The latter plan was the one which he finally adopted, not so much from self-interested motives as because be could not bring himself to face the old man's

wrath. The more he thought about the matter, the more bitterly ashamed and humiliated he felt. As for the fortune, he regarded that as absolutely and forever forfeited, whichever course he took. If he confessed his fault, he knew that his uncle would ruthlessly. strike out his name. The same thing would happen if he kept his own counsel, for it was inevitable that the old man must, sooner or later, miss his will, and it would be quite natural and easy to conjecture how it had disappeared. In Gascoigne's view, he had only a choice of evils, and he simply elected to spare himself the scourge of his uncle's tongue.

There are natures which need the stimulus of some unforeseen event or misfortune to awake their slumbering energies. This was the case with Gascoigne; for, being firmly convinced that the result of what he had done would be to deprive him of his looked-for inheritance, he applied himself from that day forward to the drudgery of earning his livelihood. He had many friends. and some influential connections, but, more important still. he possessed talent to which he had never hitherto attempted to do justice. A lucky chance, the absence of a learned leader in a notorious case. afforded him an opportunity of making a name, and almost without effort-so great a lottery is success at the bar-he found himself in a position which was envied by his contemporaries.

The process occupied nearly three years, and during this period he avoided. the society of his uncle as much as possible. He was haunted by a constant dread of the discovery of his secret, and was more than indifferent about offending him. Old Barker, on his part, grudgingly acknowledged his success, and was disposed to be more gracious; until, at length, having invited his nephew to dinner one evening, and entertained him royally, he said, quite good-humoredly:

"I suppose you are making 500 pounds a year now?"

"Yes". replied Gascoigne.

"Then I shall have to alter my will. You would like to know what is in it, I expect?"

"I do know, sir", said Gascoigne impulsively.

"What!" exclaimed the old man.

"Your will is at my chambers, sir. Do you recollect that day when you left your tin box unlocked upon the table here? In your absence I opened it, saw your will, and was unable to resist the temptation of reading it. You returned suddenly, before I was able to replace it, so I have kept it ever since", exclaimed Gascoigne, very pale and shamefaced.

There was a painful silence for full a minute; the old man's evil eye seemed positively to glare upon the offender, who looked precisely as he felt; and then Gascoigne said:

"It was a mean trick, but I'm heartily ashamed of myself, and I beg your pardon."

"And that is to be the end of it, eh?" sneered the old man, slowly recovering from his amazement.

"I expect not". said Gascoigne half defiantly.

"Your cousin ought to be much obliged to you", said old Barker, with a harsh laugh.

"She needs the money more than I", said Gascoigne.

"By Jove' sir. she shall have it too. What is more, it shall come to her from your own hand". roared the old man, purpie in the face.

"I don't understand", said Gascoigne quietly.

"I'll make a fresh will on the spot." "Very well, sir."

"You shall take it down from my dictation."

"As you please. It is rather like. signing my own death-warrant", said Gascoigne with a nervous laugh.

"So it is; so much the better; serves you right There's a sheet of paper and a pen over vonder. Sit you down.", said the old man excitedly.

Poor Gascoigne obeved silently, ani not without an uncomfortable pang. It was, as he had said, uncommonly like

signing his own death-warrant; but after all, it was only what he had anticipated, and he felt a certain sense of reliet at having unburdened his conscience.

"I suppose you had better have the pictures and the things here", said the old man grudgingly. "She wouldn't appreciate 'em.'

"Thank you, sir", said Gascoigne meekly.

"There may be a few pounds at my bank-nothing worth speaking of. In fact, this will may as well be in similar terms as the last, with your name and Margaret's reversed", said old Barker, with his malevolent old eye glistening.

"Margaret is to be residuary legatee, in fact", said Gascoigne, with a sinking heart.

"Yes. How much do people say I'm worth."

"£100.000 at least", answered Gascoigne, with assumed indifference.

"Ah! a good round sum to lose for a little curiosity, isn't it?" sneered old Barker.

"It can't be helped", said Gascoigne philosophically.

"Indeed it can't. Now are you ready?"

"Yes". said Gascoigne, grasping his pen firmly.

The old man dictated, and the sight of his nephew's ill-concealed discomfiture was evidently so amusing to him that he paused at frequent intervals to chuckle and laugh. At length. however, Gascoigne's penance was ended; witnesses were procured; and the will was duly signed. Old Barker took possession of it, and when his nephew departed---for naturally the evening soon flagged after this exciting episode-the old man said:

"Good-night. What a fool you have been! Those pictures and things are not worth a quarter of what I gave for them. Still, I suppose you will get a couple of thousand clear."

"More than I had any right to expect", said Gascoigne, as heartily as he could.

"More than you deserve, you mean.

gagements prevented him from brooding over his disappointment. He was also spared any further discussion on the subiect with us uncle, for within a week the old man had an apoplectic seizure from which he never rallied. Gascoigne was of course summoned to his uncle's bedside, but the patient was unconscious, and in that state he passed away. His will was nowhere to be found; but in searching for it Gascoigne came across a note addressed to him by the deceased, stating that the document was in the custody of his solicitor, and requesting Gascoigne to see this gentleman at once, before communicating with his cousin. The young man naturally lost no time in calling upon Mr. Bush, of Lincoln's Inn, an old friend and client of his uncle's.

He found the junior member of the firm at breakfast in his quarters adjoining the office. He very obligingly produced the will before finishing his repast. Later, in the office, the senior member read it aloud to him--it was the identica! will he himself had assisted to prepare.

"I thought, perhaps, my uncle might have made a subsequent will", he observed half involuntarily.

"He could not have made a will more favorable to you", said Mr. Bush. "His pictures and things must be worth £10,ooo at the very lowest estimate, and his bank balance--which also he leaves you -amounts to rather more, as I happen to know. I should think you will take altogether £30,000 when the effects are realized."

"It is an agreeable surprise", murmured Gascoigne "Still, my cousin is residuary legatee, which means, I suppose. £150,000."

"Nothing of the kind, my dear sir", exclaimed Mr. Bush. "The lady will get only the proportion of his annuity due at the date of his death—perhaps £1,000 or so."

"What!" gasped Gascoigne. "His annuity!"

"It will surprise many people", replied the lawyer. "He was supposed to be very wealthy, and so he was, in a

sense. But he sank his fortune many years ago in the purchase of an annuity of £5,000 a year, and a precious good bargain he made of it. It is a good thing for you that you are not his residuary legatee."

"I was once", exclaimed Gascoigne, marvelling at his narrow escape, and at his uncle's peculiar method of showing

resentment.

"Yes: that was before your success at the bar, on which I congratulate you", replied Mr. Bush. "The fact is, that our departed friend was fond of a joke. Fortunately, as your cousin expects nothing, she won't be disappointed at getting only £1,000. If his old will had stood and you had found yourself in her position"

"That would have been a sell, certainly", said Gascoigne, who felt that he could now afford to laugh.

On Right-Hand Upper Corner.

THE only way to stop people from

plastering a stamp at any old place. upon the envelope except the right one is to do as is done in England. There a letter which does not have the stamp in the right position is cast aside and handled only when ail ail other mail is sorted and exchanged. "We often lose considerable time because of these letters," said a clerk, "for often we have to stop and turn over an envelope to find the stamp. We do not mind so much the lovesick youth or maiden who places the stamp on the centre of the envelope, because a stamp so placed can be seen. Foreigners invariably put on a stamp at any but the right place, and you would be surprised to know how they do it. I have seen letters upon which the stamps have been placed on the back of the envelope, at the point where the society girl will put her monogram in sealing-wax. Others, when they have to pay. say, five cents postage, will buy five one-cent stamps and put one on each corner of the envelope, with the remaining one acting as a seal upon the back.”