dies seem to be as well dressed as Parisians, and as handsome; though
somewhat more delicate, perhaps, than the native English roses. They
drive the finest carriages, they keep the grandest houses, they frequent
the grandest company--and, in a word, the Broadway Swell has now taken
his station and asserted his dignity amongst the grandees of Europe.
He is fond of asking Count Reineck to dinner, and Grafinn Laura will
condescend to look kindly upon a gentleman who has millions of dollars.
Here comes a pair of New Yorkers. Behold their elegant curling
beards, their velvet coats, their delicate primrose gloves and cambric
handkerchiefs, and the aristocratic beauty of their boots. Why, if you
had sixteen quarterings, you could not have smaller feet than those; and
if you were descended from a line of kings you could not smoke better or
bigger cigars.

Lady Kicklebury deigns to think very well of these young men, since she
has seen them in the company of grandees and heard how rich they are.
"Who is that very stylish-looking woman, to whom Mr. Washington Walker
spoke just now?" she asks of Kicklebury.

Kicklebury gives a twinkle of his eye. "Oh, that, mother! that is Madame
La Princesse de Mogador--it's a French title."

"She danced last night, and danced exceedingly well; I remarked her.
There's a very high-bred grace about the princess."

"Yes, exceedingly. We'd better come on," says Kicklebury, blushing
rather as he returns the princess's nod.

It is wonderful how large Kicklebury's acquaintance is. He has a word
and a joke, in the best German he can muster, for everybody--for the
high well-born lady, as for the German peasant maiden, or the pretty
little washerwoman, who comes full sail down the streets, a basket on
her head and one of Mrs. Fantail's wonderful gowns swelling on each arm.
As we were going to the Schloss-Garten I caught a sight of the rogue's
grinning face yesterday, close at little Gretel's ear under her basket;
but spying out his mother advancing, he dashed down a bystreet, and when
we came up with her, Gretel was alone.

One but seldom sees the English and the holiday visitors in the ancient
parts of Noirbourg; they keep to the streets of new buildings and garden
villas, which have sprung up under the magic influence of M. Lenoir,
under the white towers and gables of the old German town. The Prince
of Trente et Quarante has quite overcome the old serene sovereign of
Noirbourg, whom one cannot help