at vouched for his regard for the
writer, when he was informed that an English gentleman was in the office
inquiring for Mr. Butler.

The stranger soon presented himself as a Mr. Culter, of the house of Box
& Culter, solicitors, London, and related that he had been in search of
Mr. Anthony Butler from one end of Europe to the other. "I was first of
all, sir," said he, "in the wilds of Calabria, and thence I was sent off
to the equally barbarous north of Ireland, where I learned that I must
retrace my steps over the Alps to your house; and now I am told that Mr.
Butler has left this a week ago."

"Your business must have been important to require such activity," said
M'Gruder, half inquiringly.

"Very important, indeed, for Mr. Butler, if I could only meet with him.
Can you give any hint, sir, how that is to be accomplished?"

"I scarcely think you 'll follow him when I tell you where he has gone,"
said M'Gruder, dryly. "He has gone to join Garibaldi."

"To join Garibaldi!" exclaimed the other. "A man with a landed estate
and thirty-six thousand in the Three per Cents gone off to Garibaldi!"

"It is clear we are not talking of the same person. My poor friend had
none olthat wealth you speak of."

"Probably not, sir, when last you saw him; but his uncle, Sir Omerod
Butler, has died, leaving him all he had in the world."

"I never knew he had an uncle. I never heard him speak of a rich
relation."

"There was some family quarrel,--some estrangement, I don't know
what; but when Sir Omerod sent for me to add a codicil to his will, he
expressed a great wish to see his nephew before he died, and sent me off
to Ireland to fetch him to him; but a relapse of his malady occurred the
day after I left him, and he died within a week."

The man of law entered into a minute description of the property to
which Tony was to succeed. There was a small family estate in Ireland,
and a large one in England; there was a considerable funded fortune, and
some scattered moneys in foreign securities; the whole only charged with
eight hundred a-year on the life of a lady no longer young, whom
scandal called not the widow of Sir Omerod Butler. M'Grader paid little
attention to these details; his whole thought was how to apprise Tony
of his good-luck,--how call him back to a world where he had what would
make life most enjoyable. "I take it, sir," asked he, at last, "that
you don't fancy a tour in Sicily?"

"Nothing is less in my thought