stranger, and he answered--

"My name is Charles Sim."

"Yes! yes!" replied the colonel, gasping as he spoke; "I saw it; I felt
it! Your name is Charles, but not Sim; that was your mother's name--your
sainted mother's. You bear it from your grandfather You come from
Cumberland?"

"I do!" was the reply, in accents of astonishment.

"My son! my son!--child of my Maria!" were the accents that broke from
the colonel, as he fell upon the neck of the other.

"My father!" exclaimed Charles, "have I then found a father?" And the
tears streamed down his cheeks.

Many questions were asked, many answered; and amongst others, the father
inquired--

"Where is your brother--my little George? Does he live? You were the
miniatures of your mother; and so strikingly did you resemble each
other, that while you were infants, it was necessary to tie a blue
ribbon round his arm, and a green one round yours, to distinguish you
from each other."

Charles became pale; his knees shook; his hands trembled.

"Then I _had_ a brother?" he cried.

"You had," replied his father; "but wherefore do you say you _had_ a
brother? Is it possible that you do not know him? He has been brought up
with my father--Mr. Morris of Morris House."

"No, he has not," replied Charles; "the man you speak of, and whom you
say is my grandfather, has brought up no one--none of my age. I have
hated him from childhood, for he has hated me; and but that you have
told me he is my grandfather, I would hate him still. But he has brought
up no one that could be a brother of mine."

"Then my child has died in infancy," rejoined the colonel.

"No, no," added Charles; "I knew not that I had a brother--not even that
I had a father; but you say my brother resembled me; that I from my
birth had the mark beneath my chin which I have now, and that he had the
same: then I know him; I have seen my brother!"

"Where, where? when, when?" breathlessly inquired the anxious parent.
"Speak, my son!--oh speak!"

"Shortly after I had joined my regiment," continued Charles, "I was
present in Devonshire, at what is called a revel. Our mess gave a purse
towards the games. We put forward a Cumberland man belonging to the
regiment, in the full confidence that he would be the victor of the day;
but a youth, a mere youth, threw not only our champion, but all who
dared to oppose him. I was stung for the honour of Cumberland; I was
loath to see the hero carry his laurels so easily from