your uncle took the portrait and always wore it himself. His sisters
said it was for the sake of the diamond; whereas, ungrateful things! it
was merely on account of their hair, and his love for the fine arts. As
for the poor artist, my dear, some people said it was the profuse use of
spirit that brought on delirium tremens; but I don't believe it. Take
another glass of Rosolio."

The telling of this story always put my aunt into great good-humour, and
she promised at the end of it to pay for the new setting of the diamond;
desiring me to take it on my arrival in London to the great jeweller, Mr.
Polonius, and send her the bill. "The fact is," said she, "that the gold
in which the thing is set is worth five guineas at the very least, and
you can have the diamond reset for two. However, keep the remainder,
dear Sam, and buy yourself what you please with it."

With this the old lady bade me adieu. The clock was striking twelve as I
walked down the village, for the story of Mulcahy always took an hour in
the telling, and I went away not quite so downhearted as when the present
was first made to me. "After all," thought I, "a diamond-pin is a
handsome thing, and will give me a _distingue_ air, though my clothes be
never so shabby"--and shabby they were without any doubt. "Well," I
said, "three guineas, which I shall have over, will buy me a couple of
pairs of what-d'ye-call-'ems;" of which, _entre nous_, I was in great
want, having just then done growing, whereas my pantaloons were made a
good eighteen months before.

Well, I walked down the village, my hands in my breeches pockets; I had
poor Mary's purse there, having removed the little things which she gave
me the day before, and placed them--never mind where: but look you, in
those days I had a heart, and a warm one too. I had Mary's purse ready