moral of a tale is often more effectively conveyed by the characters
than by the catastrophe of a story. The strange, discordant tones of
the human heart, blending, with melody the purest, sounds of passionate
meaning, are in themselves more powerful lessons than all the records of
rewarded virtue and all the calendars of punished vice. The nature of
a single man can be far more instructive than the history of every
accident that befalls him.

It is, then, with regret that we leave the Princess and Sir Horace to
pursue their journey alone. We confess a liking for their society, and
would often as soon loiter in the by-paths that they follow as journey
in the more recognized high-road of our true story. Not having the
conviction that our sympathy is shared by our readers, we again return
to the fortunes of Glencore.

When Lord Glencore's carriage underwent the usual scrutiny exercised
towards travellers at the gate of Florence, and prying officials poked
their lanterns in every quarter, in all the security of their "caste,"
two foot travellers were rudely pushed aside to await the time till the
pretentious equipage passed on. They were foreigners, and their effects,
which they carried in knapsacks, required examination.

"We have come a long way on foot to-day," said the younger in a tone
that indicated nothing of one asking a favor. "Can't we have this search
made at once?"

"Whisht! whisht!" whispered his companion, in English; "wait till the
Prince moves on, and be polite with them all."

"I am seeking for nothing in the shape of compliment," said the other;
"there is no reason why, because I am on foot, I must be detained for
this man."

Again the other remonstrated, and suggested patience.

"What are you grumbling about, young fellow?" cried one of the officers.
"Do you fancy yourself of the same consequence as Milordo? And see, he
must wait his time here."

"We came a good way on foot to-day, sir," interposed the elder, eagerly,
taking the reply on himself, "and we 're tired and weary, and would be
deeply obliged if you'd examine us as soon as you could."

"Stand aside and wait your turn," was the stern response.

"You almost deserve the fellow's insolence, Billy," said the youth; "a
crown-piece in his hand had been far more intelligible than your appeal
to his pity." And he threw himself wearily down on a stone bench.

Aroused by the accent of his own language, Lord Glencore sat up in his
carriage, a