elevating his dangling supporters a few feet in the air, before
pwopelling him into the nearest guttaw."

"A very unpleasant feeling, most certainly."

"Vewy true, sah!"

"Yes, sah, especially when you know your stwaps are too tight to admit
of any such use of your unmentionable members," squeaked the dwarf,
mockingly, who had sat unmoved within hearing distance of the whole
conversation.

A roar of laughter followed this speech, through which the dandy sat
frowning darkly. When it ceased, he sprang near the dwarf, shouting:

"You mean to insult me, do you, eh?"

"Hope you wouldn't notice such a scamp as me, sah!" squeaked the dwarf
in answer.

"I will pwummel your cwooked legs, sah!"

"Wipe that off of your own, sah, first," cried the other, dexterously
turning a fresh plate of bean soup over the dandy's "spwotless
cassimeres."

Another roar of laughter followed this act, amid which the exquisite
made his exit with his pocket hankerchief spread over his lap, swearing
he would "go stwaight and sue for dwamages," that he was "scalded to
death by the dem beggar, and he would have revenge for his ruined
trousers, be gar!"

Guly, after assisting his helpless friend to his crutches and a firm
standing, was about to leave; but the dwarf detained him by twitching
the skirt of his coat, then exclaimed:

"Hih, hih! monsieur, I lost my bean soup but I saved my head, hih! hih!
bean, soup's good, but 'twas spilt in a glorious cause; paid for
monsieur?"

This last question was put in such a comic manner, with that one eye
tipped up towards him, that Guly could not repress a smile; but he
cordially satisfied him on that point, feeling still able, in spite of
his diminished salary, to pay for a beggar's dinner, which is more than
many, with their well filled purses, can make themselves afford to do.

Freeing himself from the companionship of his singular friend, Guly
hurried away to the store; with every light footfall, and each thrilling
heart-throb, whispering to himself one word, which fell upon his
thoughts in the midst of the crowd and din through which he hastened,
like the tinkling music of a waterfall in the midst of a broad desert,
"Blanche! Blanche!"

CHAPTER XXIII.

Pure thoughts are angel visitants! be such
The frequent inmates of thy guileless breast;
They hallow all things by their sacred touch,
And ope the portals of the land of rest.

At eight o'clock precisely, Wilk