e Man of Letters, so
called, to change his place, and of course we could not think of making
such a request of the Young Girl or the Lady. So we were at a stand with
reference to this project of ours.

But while we were proposing, Fate or Providence disposed everything for
us. The Man of Letters, so called, was missing one morning, having
folded his tent--that is, packed his carpet-bag--with the silence of the
Arabs, and encamped--that is, taken lodgings--in some locality which he
had forgotten to indicate.

The Landlady bore this sudden bereavement remarkably well. Her remarks
and reflections; though borrowing the aid of homely imagery and doing
occasional violence to the nicer usages of speech, were not without
philosophical discrimination.

--I like a gentleman that is a gentleman. But there's a difference in
what folks call gentlemen as there is in what you put on table. There is
cabbages and there is cauliflowers. There is clams and there is oysters.
There is mackerel and there is salmon. And there is some that knows the
difference and some that doos n't. I had a little account with that
boarder that he forgot to settle before he went off, so all of a suddin.
I sha'n't say anything about it. I've seen the time when I should have
felt bad about losing what he owed me, but it was no great matter; and if
he 'll only stay away now he 's gone, I can stand losing it, and not cry
my eyes out nor lay awake all night neither. I never had ought to have
took him. Where he come from and where he's gone to is unbeknown to me.
If he'd only smoked good tobacco, I wouldn't have said a word; but it was
such dreadful stuff, it 'll take a week to get his chamber sweet enough
to show them that asks for rooms. It doos smell like all possest.

--Left any goods?--asked the Salesman.

--Or dockermunts?--added the Member of the Haouse.

The Landlady answered with a faded smile, which implied that there was no
hope in that direction. Dr. Benjamin, with a sudden recurrence of
youthful feeling, made a fan with the fingers of his right hand, the
second phalanx of the thumb resting on the tip of the nose, and the
remaining digits diverging from each other, in the plane of the median
line of the face,--I suppose this is the way he would have described the
gesture, which is almost a specialty of the Parisian gamin. That Boy
immediately copied it, and added greatly to its effect by extending the
fingers of the other hand in a li