ame of a hill--which lay at one side of the
Surbridge lands. It was a beautifully wooded little property of thirty
or forty acres, which it had always been the ambition of the Surbridge
owners to buy; but it was so involved with lawsuits or doubtful
titles, that it had hitherto been impossible to get possession of it
for love or money. The upper part of it rose high above the glades of
Surbridge park, and the clump of trees on the summit formed a very
fine object in the view from the drawing-room windows. It was all laid
down in the richest pasture, and would have formed the most valuable
addition to the property, both in making it compact and keeping it
secluded. The owner of it died at last in the Fleet, and it was
advertised for sale, with a perfect title and immediate possession.
The sale was by auction, and the day drew rapidly near. Mr Gillingham
Howard went carefully over the ground, examined the condition of his
credit--for his surplus cash was gone--had the property valued; and
determined to give a thousand more than its worth, to prevent it
falling into any one else's hands. When the day of sale arrived, he
placed himself in front of the auctioneer, and determined, by the
fierceness of his "bids," to frighten any competitor from the field.
The room was crowded, and the sale began. All the eloquence of the
celebrated Puff was displayed on this occasion; and when he paused
after his glowing description, and asked any gentleman to be kind
enough to name a sum to begin with--suggesting, at the same time, four
thousand pounds. "Gentlemen, shall we say four thousand guineas?" Mr
Gillingham Howard, in a voice that was calculated to show that he was
in earnest, and did not stand upon trifles, nodded his head, and said
"seven!" The auctioneer himself was overcome with the success of his
oratory, and there was a dead silence among the spectators. "Thank
you, sir--seven thousand guineas," he said, "Will any gentleman make
an advance?" looking round, at the same time, as if he considered it
useless to waste any breath in endeavouring to enhance the price. His
hammer mechanically went up, and was on the point of falling, when a
weak voice near the orator's pulpit whispered "eight."

The voice proceeded from an old man wrapped up in a thick great-coat,
though it was a warm day in June--a clear-eyed, small-featured,
diminutive old man, who had sat the whole time, taking no apparent
interest in the proceedings. All eyes were