seem to imply it."

CHAPTER XXII. INCIDENTS OF THE SECOND DAY'S JOURNEY.

We continued our journey the next morning, but it was not without
considerable difficulty that I succeeded in maintaining my former place
in the cabriolet. That stupid old woman fancied that princes were born
to be bored, and suggested accordingly that I should travel inside with
her, leaving the macaw and the toy terriers to keep company with Miss
Herbert. It was only by insisting on an outside place as a measure of
health that I at last prevailed, telling her that Dr. Corvisart was
peremptory on two points regarding me. "Let him," said he, "have
abundance of fresh air, and never be without some young companion."

And so we were again in our little leathern tent, high up in the fresh
breezy atmosphere, above dusty roads, and with a glorious view over that
lovely country that forms the approach to the Black Forest. The road
was hilly, and the carriage-way a heavy one; but we had six horses, who
trotted along briskly, shaking their merry bells, and flourishing their
scarlet tassels, while the postilions cracked their whips or broke out
into occasional bugle performances, principally intended to announce to
the passing peasants that we were very great folk, and well able to pay
for all the noise we required.

I was not ashamed to confess my enjoyment in thus whirling along at
some ten miles the hour, remembering how that great sage Dr. Johnson had
confessed to a like pleasure, and, animated by the inspiriting air and
the lovely landscape, could not help asking Miss Herbert if she did not
feel it "very jolly."

She assented with a sort of constrained courtesy that by no means
responded to the warmth of my own sensations, and I felt vexed and
chafed accordingly.

"Perhaps you prefer travelling inside?" said I, with some pique.

"No, sir."

"Perhaps you dislike travelling altogether?"

"No, sir."

"Perhaps--" But I checked myself, and with a somewhat stiff air, I said,
"Would you like a book?"

"If it would not be rude to read, sir, while you--"

"Oh, not at all, never mind me, I have more than enough to think of.
Here are some things by Dumas, and Paul Feval, and some guide-book
trash." And with that I handed her several volumes, and sank back into
my corner in sulky isolation.

Here was a change! Ten minutes ago all Nature smiled on me; from
the lark in the high heavens to the chirping grasshopper in the tall
maize-field, it wa