perations on the River
Seine are the wonder and amusement of the idle. It is true that through
some miscalculation they have chosen the wrong branch of the river. As
for the Prince, that sublime person, having now served his turn, may go,
along with the _Arabian Author_, topsy-turvy into space. But if the
reader insists on more specific information, I am happy to say that a
recent revolution hurled him from the throne of Bohemia, in consequence
of his continued absence and edifying neglect of public business; and
that his Highness now keeps a cigar store in Rupert Street, much
frequented by other foreign refugees. I go there from time to time to
smoke and have a chat, and find him as great a creature as in the days
of his prosperity; he has an Olympian air behind the counter; and
although a sedentary life is beginning to tell upon his waistcoat, he is
probably, take him for all in all, the handsomest tobacconist in London.

THE PAVILION ON THE LINKS

CHAPTER I

TELLS HOW I CAMPED IN GRADEN SEA-WOOD, AND BEHELD A LIGHT IN THE
PAVILION

I was a great solitary when I was young. I made it my pride to keep
aloof and suffice for my own entertainment; and I may say that I had
neither friends nor acquaintances until I met that friend who became my
wife and the mother of my children. With one man only was I on private
terms: this was R. Northmour, Esquire, of Graden-Easter, in Scotland. We
had met at college; and though there was not much liking between us, nor
even much intimacy, we were so nearly of a humour that we could
associate with ease to both. Misanthropes we believed ourselves to be;
but I have thought since that we were only sulky fellows. It was
scarcely a companionship, but a co-existence in unsociability.
Northmour's exceptional violence of temper made it no easy affair for
him to keep the peace with any one but me; and as he respected my silent
ways, and let me come and go as I pleased, I could tolerate his presence
without concern. I think we called each other friends.

When Northmour took his degree and I decided to leave the University
without one, he invited me on a long visit to Graden-Easter; and it was
thus that I first became acquainted with the scene of my adventures. The
mansion-house of Graden stood in a bleak stretch of country some three
miles from the shore of the German Ocean. It was as large as a barrack;
and as it had been built of a soft stone, liable to consume in the eager
a