And this is the substance of what Lawyer Chinn read: To his kinswoman Miss Martha Hymen, the Major left a life interest in the sum of five thousand pounds, invested in Government stock. To his faithful servant Scipio Johnston the sum of one hundred and fifty pounds. To his servant Caius Tamblyn, fifty pounds. To each member of the Corporation of the Borough of Troy holding office at the time of his death, five pounds to buy a mourning ring. To the Town Clerk the same, and to Mr. Jago, Town Constable, the same. To the Honourable and Gallant Corps of the Troy Volunteer Artillery, nineteen guineas, to purchase two standards, to be borne by them on all occasions of ceremony. To the Vicar and Churchwardens, two hundred pounds, the interest to be distributed annually among the poor of the Parish, on Easter Day. To the Feoffees and Governors of the Free Grammar School, a like sum to be spent in renovating the building, and a further sum of one thousand pounds to be invested for the maintenance, clothing and education of ten poor boys of the Borough. To the Vicar and Dr. Hansombody, his executors, fifty pounds apiece. And lastly, the residue of his estate (some four thousand pounds), together with the five thousand pounds reverting on his kinswoman's death, to the Mayor and Corporation, to build and endow a Hospital for the relief of the sick; the same to be known as the Hymen Hospital, 'in the hope that the name of one who left no heirs may yet be preserved a while by the continuity of human suffering.' At the conclusion of Lawyer Chinn's reading it is not too much to say that all his audience caught their breaths. They had known the Major to be a great man: but not till now--not perhaps until that last solemn sentence fell on their ears--had they understood his greatness. I have heard that the silence which followed was broken by a sob. Certainly the meeting dispersed in choking silence. At length Troy realised its loss. From that moment the figure, hitherto remembered in the clear outlines of affection, begun to grow, loom, expand, in the mists of awe. It ceased to be familiar, having put on greatness. Men began to tell how, on that last fatal expedition, the Major had turned single-handed and held a whole squadron of Dragoons at bay. In his garden, by the brink of the fish-pond, Mr. Basket reared a stone with the following inscription: