ists, and worse travellers; and I almost
repented of my resolve as I perceived the dismay it occasioned, the
full measure of which I was admitted to witness, since--from my supposed
ignorance of English--they discussed the question very freely in my
presence.

"Does he say he 's dissatisfied with his situation?" asked the old lady.

"It is difficult to make out what he means, Mamma," replied a daughter.

"These fellows are always intriguing for higher wages," observed the
subaltern.

"Or to engage with people of greater consequence," remarked the second
son.

"We had better send for the tutor, Mamma; he speaks French better than
we do."

This proposition--albeit not accepted as a compliment to themselves by
the two brothers--was at last acceded to, and, after a brief delay, the
individual in question made his appearance. To avoid any semblance of
understanding what went forward, I stood in patient silence, not even
turning my head in the direction where the family were now grouped
around the "Dragoman."

"You are to find out what he wants," said the old lady, eagerly. "Say
that we are perfectly satisfied with him; and if it be an increase--"

"That he 'll not get a sou more with my consent," broke in the sub. "He
receives already more than a captain in the line."

"I only know that I never had as much to spend at Cambridge," echoed the
other.

"They are always extravagantly paid," said the elder daughter.

"The creatures give themselves such airs," observed number two.

"And when they are at all well-looking they're intolerable," broke in
number three, who had been coolly scanning me through her eyeglass.

The tutor by this time had evidently received his instructions in full,
and beckoned me to follow him into a small room adjoining the saloon.
I obeyed; and scarcely had the door closed upon us than I started, and
broke out into an involuntary exclamation of surprise. The individual
before me was no other than my first friend, the kind youth who had
taken me by the hand at the very outset of my career, the student of
Trinity, Dublin, named Lyndsay.

As I perceived that he did not recognize me, I had time enough to
observe him well, and mark the change which more than twelve years had
wrought upon him. Though still young, anxiety and mental exertion had
worn him into premature age. His eye was dulled, his cheeks pale and
sunken, and in his manner there was that timid hesitation that stood
abashed in th