irty, and I felt abominably
uncomfortable. So I go out, yesterday morning, and see a shop with
shirts, neckties, collars, and socks in the window. I go in; I take hold
of my collar, I pull down my cuffs, I tap my shirt front. The shopman
smiles; he understands me. He measures my neck; he gives me a shirt and
some collars. But then we come to the socks, and I pull up my trousers
and point to those I am wearing. He understands immediately. He is very
intelligent. He climbs his steps and pulls parcels and boxes from his
shelves.

'Here are socks of all colours, dark and light, spotted, striped, in
mixtures, in cotton, in wool, some ribbed and some with silk clockings.
But they are huge! I look at one pair; it is too big; he shows me another
and another; they are still of a larger size. Then, impatient, and
perhaps rather abruptly, I hold out my fist for the man to measure it,
and thus gauge the length of my foot as is done in Paris. But he does not
understand me. He draws back close to the shelves as if he imagines that
I want to box him. And when I again lift my foot to call his attention to
its size, he shows even greater concern. Fortunately an idea comes to me.
I take one of the mammoth socks that are lying on the counter and fold
parts of it neatly back, so as to make it appear very much smaller than
it is. Then the shopman suddenly brightens, taps his forehead, climbs his
steps again, and pulls yet more boxes and parcels from his shelves. And
here at last are the small socks! So I choose a pair, and pay the bill.
And the man bows his thanks, well pleased, it seems, to find that in
thrusting out my fist and raising my foot I had been actuated by no
desire to injure him.'

I was still chuckling over M. Zola's anecdote when M. Desmoulin returned
from his journey to Onslow Square. He had there interviewed a smart boy
in buttons, who had informed him that his learned master was out of town
electioneering, and might not be home again for a week or two. Desmoulin
had, therefore, retained possession of Maitre Labori's note of
introduction.

I now remembered what I ought to have recalled before--namely that Mr.
Fletcher Moulton was at that moment a candidate for the parliamentary
representation of the Launceston division of Cornwall. Under such
circumstances it was unlikely that his advice would be available for some
little time to come. And so all idea of applying to him was abandoned. It
may be that this narrative, shoul