he birthday
gathering, seated on an old pony as prudent and impenetrable as himself.

It was a glorious day, and, after a hearty noonday meal, all the guests
were collected on the lawn in front of the mansion. The colonel, his
sister, and their nephew, having dined with the company, now occupied
the centre of a group which had gathered on the steps of Park House,
consisting of the ladies invited and old John Price. Scarce a sound was
heard but the rustling of the leaves of some of the noble trees, as all
sat waiting for what was to come next, for certainly something special
was expected by all, though they could scarce have told why. At last
the colonel stood forward, and, raising his hat from his venerable head,
just closed his eyes for a moment and murmured a few words to himself
and then, his voice trembling at first with emotion, spoke as follows--

"My dear friends, I am about to bring strange things to your ears, but I
trust not disagreeable ones. And first of all, let me introduce to you,
under a new name, Mr Horace Walters, the only son and only child of your
late squire, and the present and, I trust for many happy years to come,
future proprietor of the Riverton estate."

He paused as the whole company rose to their feet and vociferously
cheered the young master. Looks of astonishment and perplexity were
then exchanged by many as they resumed their seats, but these soon gave
place to most earnest attention to Colonel Dawson, who thus proceeded--

"You may some of you be wondering, dear friends, how I can have
permitted your dear young squire to have assumed and carried with my
sanction a name among you that is not really his own; but I shall soon
show you what will, I am sure, be perfectly satisfactory to you all on
this point. What I am now going to tell you is not a mere tale to
gratify curiosity. I have a sacred duty to perform in telling it; for
it was the earnest request that I should do so of one who had a right to
claim it of me--I mean your late squire, the father of my dear young
friend here, whom I shall never cease to call my dear nephew.

"You must know, then, that some twenty-five years have now passed since
I retired from the army. I was living at that time in a quiet way in my
native county, when a cousin of mine, who used to be my special
companion and friend when we were boys, died, and left me, to my
considerable surprise, a large property in Australia, in which country
he had been