oy!"

"That is also true, Mr Newland," replied the bishop, gravely.

"How long is it since you have seen him?"

"It is many years," replied the bishop, putting his handkerchief up to
his eyes.

"Answer me, now, sir;--did you not desert him?"

"No, no!" replied the bishop. "It is strange that you should appear to
know so much about the matter, Mr Newland, as you could have hardly been
born. I was poor then--very poor; but although I could ill afford it, he
had fifty pounds from me."

"But, sir," replied I, much agitated; "why have you not reclaimed him?"

"I would have reclaimed him, Mr Newland--but what could I do--he was not
to be reclaimed; and now--he is lost for ever."

"Surely, sir, in your present affluence, you must wish to see him
again?"

"He died, and I trust he has gone to heaven," replied the bishop,
covering up his face.

"No, sir," replied I, throwing myself on my knees before him, "he did
not die, here he is at your feet, to ask your blessing."

The bishop sprang from his chair. "What does this mean, sir?" said he,
with astonishment. "You my son!"

"Yes, reverend father--your son; who, with fifty pounds you left--"

"On the top of the Portsmouth coach!"

"No, sir, in the _basket_."

"My son! sir,--impossible; he died in the hospital."

"No, sir, he has come out of the _hospital_," replied I; "and as you
perceive, safe and well."

"Either, sir, this must be some strange mistake, or you must be trifling
with me," replied his lordship; "for, sir, I was at his death-bed, and
followed him to his grave."

"Are you sure of that, sir?" replied I, starting up with amazement.

"I wish that I was not, sir--for I am now childless; but pray, sir, who,
and what are you, who know so much of my former life, and who would have
thus imposed upon me?"

"Imposed upon you, sir!" replied I, perceiving that I was in error.
"Alas! I would do no such thing. Who am I? I am a young man who is in
search of his father. Your face, and especially your nose, so resembled
mine, that I made sure that I had succeeded. Pity me, sir--pity me,"
continued I, covering up my face with my hands.

The bishop, perceiving that there was little of the impostor in my
appearance, and that I was much affected, allowed a short time for me to
recover myself, and then entered into an explanation. When a curate, he
had had an only son, very wild, who would go to sea in spite of his
remonstrances. He saw him depart by the Portsmout