the doctor that at the time of the seizure she was seated at her writing table, and that on it was found a half-written letter as follows: "Sir, I wish you at once to draw a will for me, giving all I have to dispose of to my niece, Emma Simpson. There the writing ended. There was no name on the letter to show to whom it was intended to be ad dressed, but I learned from the doctor that her usual solicitor was a fellow-townsman named Maule, who was then away in Lon don, not expected back for some days. I also learned that the old lady, whose name was Mary Elliott, had a niece residing in Georgetown, whose husband's name was Simpson, and who managed a dry-goods store in the High Street of Georgetown, over which was the name of Mary Elliott. My duty seemed plain; I at once wrote out a short will, revoking all previous wills, and giving, devising and bequeathing all her property of what nature and kind soever to her niece, Emma Simpson, for her own sole use and benefit, and appointing her the sole executrix. I read this over very slowly to her in the presence of the doctor, and of my clerk, who had come with me, and I asked her whether she thoroughly understood it, and whether it carried out her wishes. She was unable to speak, but she bowed her head, which the doctor said I might accept as her assurance that it was right; signature was impossible, but with some little difficulty I got her to make a mark, and so the will was executed and attested. The doctor told me that he had sent for Mrs. Simpson, but he found she was away for the day, but was ex pected back late at night. There being noth ing more for me to do I left the house, taking the will with me, but the doctor stayed be hind as he thought the end was not far off. Late at night I met the doctor, who told me that Mrs. Elliott had passed away painlessly, her niece, Mrs. Simpson, being with her at the last. I felt satisfied in my own mind that I had done a good work; I had relieved the dying lady's mind of an anxiety which, ap parently, had been oppressing her; I had
saved the catastrophe of an intestary, which she had seemed anxious to avoid, and I had given effect to her desire to leave everything to a trusted niece. On my arrival at my office next morning my clerk told me that Mr. Simpson was wait ing to see me. After expressing*to him my regret that Mr. Maule had not been at hand to see to the drawing of the will, and that the circumstances had compelled me, a perfect stranger to Mrs. Elliott, to be called in to do the work so hurriedly, I said I felt sure that the will which had been signed carried out the testatrix's intentions, telling him of the unfinished letter which had been found on the old lady's writing table, and I produced the will and read it to him. I certainly was not prepared for what followed; uttering a moan he sank back into his chair in a swoon, and it was some little time before he recov ered. As soon as he could speak I asked him to tell me what was wrong; he told me that his wife's name was Mary, not Emma; that Emma was the name of another niece of the testatrix, who also had married a man of the name of Simpson, a distant connection of his; and that he lived in a suburb of London. I was now able to realize the extent of the catastrophe which had befallen my visitor, whom I had imagined to be, in right of his wife, placed in a position of affluence and in dependence; whereas in fact his real position was that he was left penniless and that his wife's cousin could claim the premises, the business, the stock, and everything else, and turn him into the street at short notice, to begin the world afresh. This was all the more hard upon him, because, as he told me, Mrs. Elliott had often told his wife that she would find at her death that she and her hus band had been well cared for. Here was an awkward position for all con cerned, but I felt sure that the testatrix fully understood and approved of the will which I had drawn. My present duty, therefore, was clear. I must at once telegraph to Mrs. Emma Simpson, inform her of her aunt's
