doing nothing of the kind. "It is good for
My——" said Herr von Müffe, supplying his
ignorance of the word stomach by laying his
chubby forefinger on the organ in question, with
a sentimental smile. " It is bad for Our——"
retorted the wag of the party, imitating the
poet's action, and turning quickly to the door.
We all followed him—and, for the first time in
the annals of Coolcup House, the Bachelor
Bedroom was emptied of company before mid-
night.

Early the next morning, one of Sir John's
younger sons burst into my room in a state of
violent excitement.

"I say, what's to be done with Müffe?" inquired
the young gentleman, with wildly staring
eyes.

"Open his windows, and fetch the doctor," I
answered, inspired by the recollections of the
past night.

"Doctor!" cried the boy; "the doctor won't
do—it's the barber."

"Barber?" I repeated.

"He's been asking me to shave him!" roared
my young friend, with vehement comic indignation.
"He rang his bell, and asked for the
' Son of the House—and they made me go;
and there he was, grinning in the big arm-chair,
with his mangy little shaving-brush in his hand,
and a towel over his shoulder. ' Good morning
my dear. Can you shave My——' says he, and
taps his quivering old double chin with his
infernal shaving-brush. Curse his impudence!
What's to be done with him?"

I arranged to explain to Herr von Müffe, at
the first convenient opportunity, that it was not
the custom in England, whatever it might be in
Germany, for " the Son of the House" to shave
his father's guests; and undertook, at the same
time, to direct the poet to the residence of the
village barber. When the German guest joined us
at breakfast, his unshaven chin, and the external
results of his mixed potations and his seclusion
from fresh air, by no means tended to improve
his personal appearance. In plain words, he
looked the picture of dyspeptic wretchedness.

"I am afraid, sir, you are hardly so well this
morning as we could all wish?" said Sir John
kindly.

Herr von Müffe looked at his host affectionately,
surveyed the company all round the
table, smiled faintly, laid the chubby forefinger
once more on the organ whose name he did not
know, and answered with the most enchanting
innocence and simplicity:
"I am so sick!"

There was no harm—upon my word, there was
no harm in Herr von Müffe. On the contrary
there was a great deal of good-nature and
genuine simplicity in his composition. But he
was a man naturally destitute of all power of
adapting himself to new persons and new circumstances;
and he became amiably insupportible,
in consequence, to everybody in the house,
throughout the whole term of his visit. He
could not join one of us in any country diverions.
He hung about the house and garden in
i weak, pottering, aimless manner, always tuning
up at the wrong moment, and always attaching
himself to the wrong person. He was
dexterous in a perfectly childish way at cutting
out little figures of shepherds and shepherdesses
in paper; and he was perpetually presenting these
frail tributes of admiration to the ladies, who
always tore them up and threw them away in
secret the moment his back was turned. When he
was not occupied with his paper figures, he was
out in the garden, gathering countless little nosegays,
and sentimentally presenting them to
everybody; not to the ladies only, but to lusty
agricultural gentlemen as well, who accepted
them with blank amazement; and to schoolboys,
home for the holidays, who took them, bursting
with internal laughter at the " molly-coddle"
gentleman from foreign parts. As for poor Sir
John, he suffered more than any of us; for Herr
von Müffe was always trying to kiss him. In
short, with the best intentions in the world, this
unhappy foreign bachelor wearied out the patience
of everybody in the house; and, to our
shame be it said, we celebrated his departure,
when he left us at last, by a festival-meeting in
the Bachelor Bedroom, in honour of the welcome
absence of Herr von Müffe. I cannot say
in what spirit my fellow-revellers have reflected
on our behaviour since that time; but I know;
for my own part, that I now look back at my
personal share in our proceedings with rather an
uneasy conscience. I am afraid we were all of
us a little hard on Herr von Müffe; and I hereby
desire to offer him my own individual tribute of
tardy atonement, by leaving him to figure as the
last and crowning type of the Bachelor species
presented in these pages. If he has produced
anything approaching to a pleasing effect on the
reader's mind, that effect shall not be weakened
by the appearance of any more single men, native
or foreign. Let the door of the Bachelor Bedroom
close with our final glimpse of the German
guest; and permit the present chronicler
to lay down the pen when it has traced
penitently, for the last time, the name of Herr
von Müffe.

Now ready, price 1s.,
Uniform with PICKWICK, DAVID COPPEBEIELD, BLEAK
HOUSE, &c.,
The Third Monthly Part of
A TALE OF TWO CITIES.
BY CHARLES DICKENS.
With Two Illustrations on Steel by HABLOT K.
BROWNE.
To be completed in Eight Monthly Parts.
CHAPMAN and HALL, 193, Piccadilly, W., AND
"ALL THE YEAR ROUND" Office, 11. Wellington-street,
North, London, W.C.

The right of Translating Articles from ALL THE YEAR ROUND is reserved by the Authors.