to my ancestors by the elder Stuarts,
and on that account worth seven skulls, or more." "One Yorick's skull,"
is written on the paper, upon which the old man presses firmly his
finger. Then turning to an old box standing in the little fireplace
behind the counter, saying, "it's in here--as my name's Absalom
McArthur, it is," he opens the lid, and draws forth several old military
coats (they have seen revolutionary days! he says, exultingly), numerous
scales of brass, such as are worn on British soldiers' hats, a ponderous
chapeau and epaulets, worn, he insists, by Lord Nelson at the renowned
battle of Trafalgar. He has not opened, he adds, this box for more than
twelve long years. Next he drags forth a military cloak of great weight
and dimensions. "Ah!" he exclaims, with nervous joy, "here's the
identical cloak worn by Lord Cornwallis--how my ancestors used to prize
it." And as he unrolls its great folds there falls upon the floor, to
his great surprise, an old buff-colored silk dress, tied firmly with a
narrow, green ribbon. "Maria! Maria! Maria!" shouts the old man, as if
suddenly seized with a spasm. And his little gray eyes flash with
excitement, as he says--"if here hasn't come to light at last, poor Mag
Munday's dress. God forgive the poor wretch, she's dead and gone, no
doubt." In response to the name of "Maria" there protrudes from a little
door that opens into a passage leading to a back-room, the delicate
figure of a female, with a face of great paleness, overcast by a
thoughtful expression. She has a finely-developed head, intelligent blue
eyes, light auburn hair, and features more interesting than regular.
Indeed, there is more to admire in the peculiar modesty of her demeanor
than in the regularity of her features, as we shall show. "My daughter!"
says the old man, as she nervously advances, her pale hand extended.
"Poor woman! how she would mourn about this old dress; and say it
contained something that might give her a chance in the world," she
rather whispers than speaks, disclosing two rows of small white teeth.
She takes from the old man's hand the package, and disappears. The
anxiety she evinces over the charge discloses the fact that there is
something of deep interest connected with it.

Mr. McArthur was about to relate how he came by this seemingly
worthless old package, when the property-man, becoming somewhat
restless, and not holding in over high respect the old man's rubbish, as
he called it