be leaving now very soon, it really makes
no matter. To-morrow I shall seriously
begin to think of fixing the day of
departure—the next day still think of it
the third day fix it; the fourth day unfix,
and put it off two days. Then begin to
think again. In this way, said an old
officer to me—at dinner, of course, the
invariable time we form acquaintances—you
discount and get value for every hour of
your time. Each of these stages is a
reprieve; otherwise the time slips away, and
you are going before you have begun to
enjoy yourself. Grainger was delighted to
come. An expedition to Frankfort, he said,
was the only thing that kept him up "in this
hole." Accordingly we set off. I had some
misgivings about taking him; but the
reflection occurred that I might be saving
him from temptation, and that bringing
him back to taste these more innocent joys
of life, might touch some old chord. Then
really, pet of mine—comic as the notion
may seem to you—I appeared to myself to
be acting as a sort of special missionary to
this place; really as benighted as were the
Fee Jee Islanders. I know I am weak
enough at home, dear, and anything but
missionary like; but still this will be laying
up a little treasury, a small deposit
account on which I may hereafter draw,
and say to myself, "Well, that time at
Homburg, I did, or tried to do, some little
good, and succeeded." What a strange old
town. So quaint, so original, so fine, so
ancient. I could have lingered on hours
there, but I felt there was business before
me, and I had no right to make holiday of it.
We went straight to the merchant's house,
and found him in. He was evidently a
ci-devant Jew; he could not disguise those
features, and a hard Jew also. I produced
the deeds and papers. The signing was
done speedily, and the money paid down.
It was to be lodged in the Frankfort Bank
in my name. Nothing could be more
satisfactory. My friend, Mr. Bernard,
directed me so to do until he sent me
instructions as to its disposal, and there I
think he will own, I have worked it
favourably for him to the end. He will not
object either to the little benefice I have
made out for him, uninstructed. I dare
say he will be more pleased at that, trifling
as it is, just as the barrister or doctor does
not like to have the shillings kept back out
of his guineas. I was greatly pleased with
Grainger. Grainger seemed a little surprised
at my knowledge of business and
savoir-faire, dealing so easily with a Jew
banker, who is supposed to be up to all the
tracasseries of money.

"Why," he said as we went out, "one
would think you had been brought up in
Frankfort, and were accustomed to meet
these chaps. I couldn't have held my
own to that cormorant as you did; but I
have got cowed, I suppose."

"My dear Grainger," I said, "if you
want to know the secret, it will come from
a little self-reliance: I have something I
can depend upon here. A man will swing
himself across a precipice by a thin rope
which you will be afraid of, simply because
he knows and has tried its strength. There
is the whole mystery, Grainger; and if I
could only bring you to rely on your own
heart, which is true, I know, and not be led
here and there passively, the helpless victim
of every idle whim and inclination——"
He said nothing. I could see he was sunk in
thought. In this way, by a sort of implied
contrast, and not by officious ill-judged
canting and preaching, which some of the
"good people" would have thought the
best, I know enough of the world to have
discovered that we work these things out
for ourselves best. We came home in
great spirits.

"What will you do with all that money?"
he said.

"We shall go straight and lodge it at
the bank," I answered. And we did so.

"My God!" he said, in a low voice, "if
I had that money, I should be ashamed to
own to you the frightful idea that would
occur to me. What a humiliation!"

"You would hardly be able to pass the
kursaal without going in," I said gravely.
"Well, there is no humiliation in being
tempted—the best and bravest have been.
The crime, the humiliation is in another
direction. I don't think the worse of you,
Grainger, for that confession."

Coming from the railway I meet the
young husband and wife, he walking in
front "brutally," both so changed. He
had an angry and determined look that was
almost ferocious. She was pale and scarcely
able to walk. Their luggage very small,
and I daresay, shrunk away, like the rest
of their means, followed them on a man's
shoulder. There was a splendid achievement
on the side of Mephistopheles and
Co. Sweet morsels for them—stripping
the young and the innocent—surely the
vengeance of Heaven should overtake such
wretches—fire should come down from
heaven, or rather by a simpler process, it
is no sin to wish that a common earthly