at Christ Church, and we made a show
of writing to one another, and didn't, and always had a hearty mutual
goodwill; and though we did not quite burst into tears on parting, were
yet quite happy when occasion threw us together, and so almost lost
sight of each other. I heard lately that Berry was married, and am
rather ashamed to say, that I was not so curious as even to ask the
maiden name of his lady.

Last summer I was at Paris, and had gone over to Versailles to meet a
party, one of which was a young lady to whom I was tenderly--But, never
mind. The day was rainy, and the party did not keep its appointment;
and after yawning through the interminable Palace picture-galleries, and
then making an attempt to smoke a cigar in the Palace garden--for which
crime I was nearly run through the body by a rascally sentinel--I was
driven, perforce, into the great bleak lonely place before the Palace,
with its roads branching off to all the towns in the world, which Louis
and Napoleon once intended to conquer, and there enjoyed my favourite
pursuit at leisure, and was meditating whether I should go back to
"Vefour's" for dinner, or patronise my friend M. Duboux of the "Hotel
des Reservoirs" who gives not only a good dinner, but as dear a one as
heart can desire. I was, I say, meditating these things, when a carriage
passed by. It was a smart low calash, with a pair of bay horses and a
postilion in a drab jacket that twinkled with innumerable buttons, and
I was too much occupied in admiring the build of the machine, and
the extreme tightness of the fellow's inexpressibles, to look at the
personages within the carriage, when the gentleman roared out "Fitz!"
and the postilion pulled up, and the lady gave a shrill scream, and
a little black-muzzled spaniel began barking and yelling with all his
might, and a man with moustaches jumped out of the vehicle, and began
shaking me by the hand.

"Drive home, John," said the gentleman: "I'll be with you, my love, in
an instant--it's an old friend. Fitz, let me present you to Mrs. Berry."

The lady made an exceedingly gentle inclination of her black-velvet
bonnet, and said, "Pray, my love, remember that it is just dinner-time.
However, never mind ME." And with another slight toss and a nod to the
postilion, that individual's white leather breeches began to jump up
and down again in the saddle, and the carriage disappeared, leaving me
shaking my old friend Berry by the hand.

He had long q