my husband," began the lady.

"Whist! don't tell my name," interrupted the gentleman in the fur
cloak; "let me see if my dear cousin remembers me," and laughing
heartily, he seized both of Uncle Lorincz's hands, and waited for him
to remember.

It was rather an embarrassing situation for Uncle Lorincz, who had not
the slightest recollection of ever having seen his dear cousin before.

"Pooh! how can he recognise you in that cap?" cried his faithful
partner, snatching from her husband's head the prodigious two-eared
fur cap, and exposing a good-natured countenance, with a large, bald
forehead, and features which we meet in a thousand faces, without ever
distinguishing one from the other.

"Ay, do you know me now?" asked the worthy gentleman in a tone of
confidence.

Uncle Lorincz blushed to the ears, and would have given his best
meerschaum to have been helped out of the unpleasant dilemma.

"Oh! certainly, I remember--quite well," he replied, rubbing his
forehead with the tip of his forefinger; "perfectly remember; only the
name will not come into my head."

"Well, do you remember when we sat together at the Gyor elections in
1830?"

"Exactly, the name is on the tip of my tongue."

Among the four thousand people who had assembled for the Raab
elections ten years before, it would have been difficult to recall the
features of one in particular.

"Well, I am that Menyhert Gulyas"--

"Gulyasi!--exactly, so you are! Welcome with all my heart!" cried
Uncle Lorincz, much relieved at being at length freed from such a tax
on his memory, although not a bit the wiser even after hearing the
name.

"And these are my two sons, Sandor and Peter," continued the worthy
lady. "Go and kiss your aunt's hand, boys."

Sandor and Peter rushed forward in obedience to their mother's
command; the younger succeeded in taking possession of his aunt's
hand, which he fervently pressed against lips and nose, while she
slily put the other behind her back.

"You are too old to kiss hands, my dear nephew," she said, at the same
time proffering her cheek to Sandor, who was so embarrassed at the
idea of kissing his aunt, that he scarcely knew what he was about;
and, after the ceremony, was thrown into such a tremor, that he trode
successively on his father's, mother's, and brother's toes.

The great house-dogs now approached to take their part in the
patriarchal reception, thrusting in their cold noses, and licking the
hands of the g