en could play the violoncello.

Lady Kicklebury gives Miss Fanny a nudge when Lord Talboys appears, and
orders her to exert all her fascinations. How the old lady coaxes, and
she wheedles! She pours out the Talboys' pedigree upon him; and asks
after his aunt, and his mother's family. Is he going to Noirbourg? How
delightful! There is nothing like British spirits; and to see an English
matron well set upon a young man of large fortune and high rank, is a
great and curious sight.

And yet, somehow, the British doggedness does not always answer. "Do
you know that old woman in the drab jacket, Titmarsh?" my hereditary
legislator asks of me. "What the devil is she bothering ME for, about
my aunts, and setting her daughter at me? I ain't such a fool as that.
I ain't clever, Titmarsh; I never said I was. I never pretend to be
clever, and that--but why does that old fool bother ME, hay? Heigho!
I'm devilish thirsty. I was devilish cut last night. I think I must have
another go-off. Hallo you! Kellner! Garsong! Ody soda, Oter petty vare
do dyvee de Conac. That's your sort; isn't it, Leader?"

"You will speak French well enough, if you practise," says Leader with
a tender voice; "practice is everything. Shall we dine at the
table-d'hote? Waiter! put down the name of Viscount Talboys and Mr.
Leader, if you please."

The boat is full of all sorts and conditions of men. For'ard, there are
peasants and soldiers: stumpy, placid-looking little warriors for the
most part, smoking feeble cigars and looking quite harmless under their
enormous helmets. A poor stunted dull-looking boy of sixteen, staggering
before a black-striped sentry-box, with an enormous musket on his
shoulder, does not seem to me a martial or awe-inspiring object. Has it
not been said that we carry our prejudices everywhere, and only admire
what we are accustomed to admire in our own country?

Yonder walks a handsome young soldier who has just been marrying a wife.
How happy they seem! and how pleased that everybody should remark their
happiness. It is a fact that in the full sunshine, and before a couple
of hundred people on board the Joseph Miller steamer, the soldier
absolutely kissed Mrs. Soldier; at which the sweet Fanny Kicklebury was
made to blush.

We were standing together looking at the various groups: the pretty
peasant-woman (really pretty for once,) with the red head-dress and
fluttering ribbons, and the child in her arms; the jolly fat old
gentlema