, with a
slim gentleman of two or three and thirty, who was probably the husband
of one of them. He had numberless shawls under his arm and guardianship.
He had a strap full of Murray's Handbooks and Continental Guides in
his keeping; and a little collection of parasols and umbrellas, bound
together, and to be carried in state before the chief of the party, like
the lictor's fasces before the consul.

The chief of the party was evidently the stout lady. One parasol being
left free, she waved it about, and commanded the luggage and the menials
to and fro. "Horace, we will sit there," she exclaimed, pointing to a
comfortable place on the deck. Horace went and placed the shawls and
the Guidebooks. "Hirsch, avy vou conty les bagages? tront sett morso ong
too?" The German courier said, "Oui, miladi," and bowed a rather sulky
assent. "Bowman, you will see that Finch is comfortable, and send her to
me." The gigantic Bowman, a gentleman in an undress uniform, with very
large and splendid armorial buttons, and with traces of the powder of
the season still lingering in his hair, bows, and speeds upon my lady's
errand.

I recognize Hirsch, a well-known face upon the European high-road, where
he has travelled with many acquaintances. With whom is he making the
tour now?--Mr. Hirsch is acting as courier to Mr. and Mrs. Horace
Milliken. They have not been married many months, and they are
travelling, Hirsch says, with a contraction of his bushy eyebrows, with
miladi, Mrs. Milliken's mamma. "And who is her ladyship?" Hirsch's brow
contracts into deeper furrows. "It is Miladi Gigglebury," he says, "Mr.
Didmarsh. Berhabs you know her." He scowls round at her, as she calls
out loudly, "Hirsch, Hirsch!" and obeys that summons.

It is the great Lady Kicklebury of Pocklington Square, about whom I
remember Mrs. Perkins made so much ado at her last ball; and whom old
Perkins conducted to supper. When Sir Thomas Kicklebury died (he was one
of the first tenants of the Square), who does not remember the scutcheon
with the coronet with two balls, that flamed over No. 36? Her son was at
Eton then, and has subsequently taken an honorary degree at Oxford, and
been an ornament of Platt's and the "Oswestry Club." He fled into St.
James's from the great house in Pocklington Square, and from St. James's
to Italy and the Mediterranean, where he has been for some time in a
wholesome exile. Her eldest daughter's marriage with Lord Roughhead was
talked