any, cannot be much more than a half-
penny. Inside the luggage office, to help
the clerk, hangs a sort of ready reckoner,
giving the charges for a scale of weights
in excess, from five to one hundred kilos,
to the different stations along the line. So
that here, again, the traveller, if cheated,
has a check to his hand.

As to tickets, a reference to the
"Indicateur des Chemins de Per" gives the price
of every ticket for every class from every
station in France to every other. The
traveller can calculate, to a sou, the exact sum
he has to pay, push it in at the wicket, and
say " There!" Moreover, in most stations,
those prices are conspicuously printed in
black and white, on tall boards, in large
letters and figures that every one can read.

Railways would rather be without
luggage, and yet they take a deal of trouble
about it; and it must be allowed that the
misadventures are few, in proportion to the
immense mass daily conveyed. It is the
luggage which most effectually puts a drag
on the rapidity of railway travelling; not by
its weight or its cumbersomeness, but by the
time lost in getting it in and out at each
station. Consequently, several quick French
trains will not take passengers, except for
long distances: solely to avoid having to
deposit their luggage. Thus, the train
No. 3, which leaves Paris for Marseilles at
a quarter past seven P.M., will only take in,
up to Macon, travellers who go at least as
far as Valence. By this means, a grand
sweep is made, with no loss of time in
the delivery and reception of passengers'
packages.

THE BRIDGE OF SIGHS.
A YACHTING STORY.

CHAPTER V. A HOLIDAY.

MONDAY morning. A bright, fresh day
with a distant stiff breeze, which every
now and again caused a dark purple frown
to pass over the sea very far away. The
old sailors said this meant nothing, that
"afore noon" it would be all right, with a
"good sailin' breeze." The harbour seemed
to have half the air of a nautical flower
show —so many sails were fluttering in a
sort of negligée toilette. A few more of
these elegant ladies had dropped in during
the night, and for the first race it was
known that at least ten would start. Of
course the shabby, greedy Morna was
among them. " Scandalous," many a
mariner, his hands deep in his pockets,
muttered. Little boats shot about the
harbour zigzag, like gad-flies, and the Royal
St. Arthur's and the Royal Burgee in full
uniform, and stuck over with innumerable
flags, affected a sort of harmony for that
day only.

A gunboat from one of the great ports
was hovering undecidedly outside the
harbour; the lieutenant was being pulled
ashore; but even that " rubbishing fellow"
went straight for the stairs of the Royal
St. Arthur's. The terraces of both clubs were
covered with gentlemen in short jackets and
caps, and using glasses, with quite a quarter-
deck air. The start was early: about nine
o'clock. From the commodore's yacht
came the gun, and the row of racers were
"round" in a second, and gliding away out
of the harbour. The selfish cutter took
her time, and rather "lounged" out. She
had on her racing suit, and when she
got up her " balloon" sails, seemed to
swell like the snowy feathers of a huge
swan. There was the local crack boat,
known indifferently to the sailors as the
Nigh-a-Bee, sometimes as the Knee-Oby,
but which, in Hunt's List, was the Niobé,
35; W. C. Jephson, owner. This gentleman
could hardly contain his disgust as
he looked at the intruder, who was aristocratic
R.Y.S., while he was only R. St.A.Y.C.
There she was, a smart, coquettish,
thoroughbred thing, shooting out of the
harbour before all the rest: but, " of
course," there was the huge hulking Morna
rolling carelessly on behind, and getting up
another tremendous sail, though in the
most leisurely manner. The rest went on
their way in straggling order—  here, there,
and everywhere, leaning over, awry, stiffly
upright, or flying along half arching over,
like graceful skaters. The course was one
of many miles; in a short time the graceful
craft were afar off, no more than a few
yellowish specks dotted about, and the
spectators on shore had done with them for
nearly the whole day.

The Almandine, like a fastidious guardsman,
seemed to think the affair " a bore,"
and disdained to take the trouble of racing
at all. She lay in the centre of the
harbour, tranquilly, as if reposing on a sort
of watery sofa, full of charming languor.
Round her circulated innumerable gay
pleasure boats, all parasols and bright
ribbons. Towards two o'clock, the terraces
of the Royal St. Arthur's and of the
Royal Burgee became crowded, and the
band of the Sixth (Prince Regent's Own),
one circle of legs and jackets, with caps
at about the sloping angle of a roof,