The last evening of the Old Year had arrived, our preparations were completed, and our little party were experiencing something of that _ennui_ which results from having nothing to do, when, in putting away the materials lately in use, Annie took up my engraving of Hotspur and Kate. Handing it to me, she said. "I know these engravings are precious, Aunt Nancy, though what can be the association with this one, I am, I acknowledge, at a loss to conceive." "And yet it is a very simple one. I treasure it in memory of my friend Harry Percy and his bride." "What! Hotspur?" questioned Annie with dilating eyes. "Not quite, though he was a lineal descendant of the old Percys, and hot enough on occasion, too." "You mean Colonel Percy of the British army, who married Miss Sinclair, of Havre de Grace, during our last war with England, or immediately after it, I never quite understood which. There seemed some mystery about the marriage, and I did not like to inquire too closely, but I dare say now, Aunt Nancy, you can tell us all about it." "I believe I can. See Annie, if among these packages you can find one labelled 'The Test of Love.'" "What! another story of a proud beauty winning her glove and losing her lover?" asked Mr. Arlington. "No; my test, or rather my hero's test, was somewhat different," I replied, as I received the package from Annie, and read, THE TEST OF LOVE: A STORY OF THE LAST WAR. When Mr. Sinclair, the rector of St John's, in Havre de Grace took possession of his pretty parsonage, and persuaded the fair and gentle Lucy Hillman to preside over his unpretending _menage_, and to share the comforts that lay within the compass of his stipend of one thousand dollars per annum, he felt that his largest earthly desires were fulfilled. A daughter was given to him, and with a grateful heart he exclaimed--"Surely Thou hast made my cup to overflow."