yours for the purpose. Put them on when you go to your relations; it
is astonishing what a difference it makes in the ideas people form of
us, according as our coats are cut one way or another. I should not be
presentable in London thus; and nothing is more true than that a tailor
is often the making of a man."

"The shirts, too, are very good holland," said Mrs. Riccabocca, about to
open the knapsack.

"Never mind details, my dear," cried the wise man; "shirts are
comprehended in the general principle of clothes. And, Leonard, as a
remembrance somewhat more personal, accept this, which I have worn many
a year when time was a thing of importance to me, and nobler fates than
mine hung on a moment. We missed the moment, or abused it, and here I
am, a waif on a foreign shore. Methinks I have done with Time."

The exile, as he thus spoke, placed in Leonard's reluctant hands a watch
that would have delighted an antiquary, and shocked a dandy It was
exceedingly thick, having an outer case of enamel, and an inner one of
gold. The hands and the figures of the hours had originally been formed
of brilliants; but the brilliants had long since vanished. Still, even
thus bereft, the watch was much more in character with the giver than
the receiver, and was as little suited to Leonard as would have been the
red silk umbrella.

"It is old-fashioned," said Mrs. Riccabocca, "but it goes better than
any clock in the country. I really think it will last to the end of the
world."

"_Carissima mia!_" cried the Doctor, "I thought I had convinced you that
the world is by no means come to its last legs."

"Oh, I did not mean any thing, Alphonso," said Mrs. Riccabocca,
coloring.

"And that is all we do mean when we talk about that of which we can know
nothing," said the Doctor, less gallantly than usual, for he resented
that epithet of "old-fashioned," as applied to the watch.

Leonard, we see, had been silent all this time; he could not
speak--literally and truly, he could not speak. How he got out of his
embarrassment, and how he got out of the room, he never explained to my
satisfaction. But, a few minutes afterward, he was seen hurrying down
the road very briskly.

Riccabocca and his wife stood at the window gazing after him.

"There is a depth in that boy's heart," said the sage, "which might
float an argosy."

"Poor dear boy! I think we have put every thing into the knapsack that
he can possibly want," said good Mrs. Riccabo