tely the accident happened near the
gate leading to the town of St. Cloud, and thither, with the aid of two
gendarmes, Mr. Stubbs conveyed the fallen hero, and having put him to
bed at the Hotel d'Angleterre, he sent for a "medecin," who of course
shook his head, looked very wise, ordered him to drink warm water--a
never-failing specific in France--and keep quiet. Finding he had an
Englishman for a patient, the "medecin" dropped in every two hours,
always concluding with the order "encore l'eau chaud." A good sleep did
more for Mr. Jorrocks than the doctor, and when the "medecin" called
in the morning, and repeated the injunction "encore l'eau chaud," he
bellowed out, "Cuss your _l'eau chaud_, my stomach ain't a reserwoir!
Give me some wittles!" The return of his appetite being a most
favourable symptom, Mr. Stubbs discharged the doctor, and forthwith
ordered a _dejeuner a la fourchette_, to which Mr. Jorrocks did pretty
fair justice, though trifling in comparison with his usual performances.
They then got into a Versailles diligence that stopped at the door, and
rattling along at a merry pace, very soon reached Paris and the Rue des
Mauvais-Garcons.

"Come up and see the Countess," said Mr. Jorrocks as they arrived at the
bottom of the flight of dirty stairs, and, with his hands behind his
back and his sword dragging at his heels, he poked upstairs, and opening
the outer door entered the apartment. He passed through the small
ante-room without observing his portmanteau and carpet-bag on the table,
and there being no symptoms of the Countess in the next one, he walked
forward into the bedroom beyond.

Before an English fire-place that Mr. Jorrocks himself had been at the
expense of providing, snugly ensconced in the luxurious depths of a
well-cushioned easy chair, sat a monstrous man with a green patch on his
right eye, in slippers, loose hose, a dirty grey woollen dressing-gown,
and black silk nightcap, puffing away at a long meerschaum pipe, with
a figure of Bacchus on the bowl. At a sight so unexpected Mr. Jorrocks
started back, but the smoker seemed quite unconcerned, and casting an
unmeaning grey eye at the intruder, puffed a long-drawn respiration from
his mouth.

"How now!" roared Mr. Jorrocks, boiling into a rage, which caused the
monster to start upon his legs as though he were galvanised. "Vot brings
you here?"

"Sprechen sie Deutsch?" responded the smoker, opening his eye a little
wider, and taking the p