"Oh you're in the same regiment, are you?" asked Mr. Croyland; "it's not a whole regiment of elder sons, I hope?" "Oh no," answered the other, "I have the still greater misfortune of being an only son; and the greater one still, of being an orphan." "And may I know your style and denomination?" said Mr. Croyland. "Oh, Osborn, Osborn!" cried Sir Edward Digby, before his friend could speak, "Captain Osborn of the ---- Dragoons." "I will put that down in my note-book," rejoined the old gentleman. "The best friend I ever had was named Osborn. He couldn't be your father, though, for he had no children, poor fellow! and was never married, which was the only blessing Heaven ever granted him, except a good heart and a well-regulated mind. His sister married my old schoolfellow, Leyton--but that's a bad story, and a sad story, though now it's an old story, too." "Indeed!" said Sir Edward Digby; "I'm fond of old stories if they are good ones." "But, I told you this was a bad one, Sir Ned," rejoined the old gentleman sharply; "and as my brother behaved very ill to poor Leyton, the less we say of it the better. The truth is," he continued, for he was one of those who always refuse to tell a story, and tell it after all, "Leyton was rector of a living which was in my brother's gift. He was only to hold it, however, till my youngest nephew was of age to take it; but when the boy died--as they both did sooner or later--Leyton held the living on, and thought it was his own, till one day there came a quarrel between him and my brother, and then Robert brought forward his letter promising to resign when called upon, and drove him out. I wasn't here then; but I have heard all about it since, and a bad affair it was. It should not have happened if I had been here, for Bob has a shrewd eye to the nabob's money, as well he may, seeing that he's----but that's no business of mine. If he chooses to dribble through his fortune, Heaven knows how, I've nothing to do with it! The two poor girls will suffer." "What, your brother has two fair daughters then, has he?" demanded Sir Edward Digby. "I suppose it is under the artillery of their glances I am first to pass; for, doubtless, you know I am going to your brother's."