gentleman, who had been the third at the
ordinary, and would take no part either in the conversation or in
Pogson's champagne, now took up his hat, and, grunting, left the room,
when the happy bagman had the delight of a tete-a-tete. The Baroness did
not appear inclined to move: it was cold; a fire was comfortable, and
she had ordered none in her apartment. Might Pogson give her one more
glass of champagne, or would her ladyship prefer "something hot." Her
ladyship gravely said, she never took ANYTHING hot. "Some champagne,
then; a leetle drop?" She would! she would! O gods! how Pogson's hand
shook as he filled and offered her the glass!

What took place during the rest of the evening had better be described
by Mr. Pogson himself, who has given us permission to publish his
letter.

"QUILLACQ'S HOTEL (pronounced KILLYAX), CALAIS.

"DEAR TIT,--I arrived at Cally, as they call it, this day, or, rather,
yesterday; for it is past midnight, as I sit thinking of a wonderful
adventure that has just befallen me. A woman in course; that's always
the case with ME, you know: but oh, Tit! if you COULD but see her! Of
the first family in France, the Florval-Delvals, beautiful as an angel,
and no more caring for money than I do for split peas.

"I'll tell you how it occurred. Everybody in France, you know, dines at
the ordinary--it's quite distangy to do so. There was only three of us
to-day, however,--the Baroness, me, and a gent, who never spoke a word;
and we didn't want him to, neither: do you mark that?

"You know my way with the women: champagne's the thing; make 'em drink,
make 'em talk;--make 'em talk, make 'em do anything. So I orders a
bottle, as if for myself; and, 'Ma'am,' says I, 'will you take a glass
of Sham--just one?' Take it she did--for you know it's quite distangy
here: everybody dines at the table de hote, and everybody accepts
everybody's wine. Bob Irons, who travels in linen on our circuit, told
me that he had made some slap-up acquaintances among the genteelest
people at Paris, nothing but by offering them Sham.

"Well, my Baroness takes one glass, two glasses, three glasses--the old
fellow goes--we have a deal of chat (she took me for a military man,
she said: is it not singular that so many people should?), and by ten
o'clock we had grown so intimate, that I had from her her whole history,
knew where she came from, and where she was going. Leave me alone with
'em: I can find out any woman's history in