This is a question which wiser men than the Hon. Philip Martindale would be puzzled to answer; and it is a question which weaker men than he would have smiled at. He was not a man without feeling, though he was a man of the world; and it excited in his mind other thoughts and feelings than those of a ridiculous nature, when he saw a foreigner in England, whose discovery of his wife and child depended on the finding out of the residence of a person of so common a name as Smith. Forgetting, therefore, his engagement with Stephen the guard, he set himself seriously and closely to interrogate the poor man, in order to find some better and more definite clue to the discovery of his family than the name of Smith. Thereupon the countenance of the foreigner brightened up, his eyes sparkled, and the tear was on his cheek, when he said: “Oh! sare, you are good. I thank you much for your great trouble: you are all so good in England to the poor estranger when he is in misery. It is sad to leave my own land; but what am I without my poor child?” “Well, my good friend,” replied Philip, “I hope and trust you will find your child. But surely you must have some other knowledge of the person with whom your family is residing than merely the name of Smith. You have had letters from them, you say; can you not recollect from what place those letters were dated?” “Oh, no! I could not recollect it once: it was no name in the geography; it was in the province.” “Then, of course, it was not London;” replied Mr. Martindale. “No, no, no, it was not London; it was in the province: it was far away from London thirty or forty mile.” “But did not you sometimes send letters to your family, and can you not tell how you addressed your letters to them? Perhaps if you were to consider a little while, you might be able to call to mind something that might assist in discovering the place of their abode. If you had letters, most likely some account was given of the place where they lived: or if it were a small village, they may have mentioned the name of the nearest post-town.” “Oh yes, it was very pretty place. It was thirty or forty mile from London. It was very beautiful place. There was large, very fine palace called Abbey. There was very fine lake.” This description reminded Philip Martindale of the place of his own residence, and he therefore asked if the name of the place was at all like Brigland. The foreigner looked thoughtful, and attempted to repeat the word, saying: “Breeklan! Breeklan!” Then, after a pause of a few seconds, his features underwent a complete change, and with a kind of hysteric laugh or screech of exultation, he cried out: “Oh, that was it! that was it! Oh, good sare, it was Breeklan--oh, tell me where is Breeklan, and I will see my child and my dear wife--oh, I will see them once again--oh, you have save me from great misery.”