“Oh, have you got your diploma, Hugh? Let’s see the document with our own eyes,” said Dr. Hardcastle, coming forward. “Yes; here it is,” said Hugh, rooting in his pocket with one hand, while he hugged the baby up with the other. “Here it is. I took it out of my trunk to bring along as a sort of credential that your years of kindness have not been thrown away upon me, my best friend;” and Hugh produced the parchment, and laid it on the table. “Good! good! Here it is, Elsie! Come, look! Here is Dr. Hutton’s warrant to kill and cure, secundum artem. Here is the diploma. Here is the prize for which he has toiled so hard—the good of his race.” “No; not the good, but the great starting place. Is it not so, Hugh?” said Elsie, coming forward. “Yes, true, the starting point. She is worthier than I. The starting point, my boy. And now for a brilliant career. Aim high, Hugh. He who aims at the sun may not bring it down, but his arrow will fly highest. You must be more successful than I have been, Hugh. I am a useful—if you please—an extensively useful member of my profession, and of society. You must be a distinguished honor to the faculty and the world. Oh! I have a grand ambition for you, Hugh, my son!” “My dear friend! my best friend! all that I am and have I owe to you, to your patient, disinterested teaching of many years. Oh, yes! and all that I may become or may possess I shall still owe to you! Ah, Dr. Hardcastle! I speak of a debt! I shall never be able to pay the debt I owe to you.” “Why, Hugh!” replied Dr. Hardcastle, throwing his arm affectionately over the shoulder of his young friend, and speaking in a voice as harmonious and gentle as a woman’s. “Why, Hugh! never let me hear another word of owing anything but brotherly love to me. You who have been my second self in all my labors and professional cares; a son to me, except that you have given me no anxiety, but much ease. My brother, companion, confidant! Why, whatever could I have done without you, Hugh? What could any of us have done without you? Mrs. Garnet! how could you have got along without your son, Hugh? Elsie! how could you have managed to conduct your domestic and business affairs without Hugh? Children! little ones, I say! what would you take for ‘big brother’?” The last-named little shareholders in the Hugh Hutton property swarmed around him, some with gentle, some with vociferous demonstrations of affection. And their mother laid her hands affectionately on his shoulders, and, looking up in his face, said: “Dear Hugh! No! no one could possibly have supplied your place to us, since we have known you. You have been, indeed, like a younger brother, or an elder son of the family, only that, as the doctor says, instead of giving us trouble, you have relieved us of it. Oh, Hugh! our dear boy! only be half as eminent as we hope you will be, and we shall be so proud and happy in your success!”