"Fear not, sir; she went to her room, and
told Clementina not to disturb her."

"It is of consequence, however, that I should
see her. I want to speak of our arrangements
for to-morrow—the hour we are to start—-"

"Oh! but we are to stop here over to-morrow
—I thought monsieur knew that," said the
fellow, with the insolent grin of a menial at
knowing more than his betters.

"Oh, to be sure we are," said I, laughingly,
and affecting to have suddenly remembered it.
"I forgot all about it, François; you are quite
right. Take a glass of wine,  François—or take
the bottle with vou, that's better." And I handed
him a flask of Hocheimer of eight florins, right
glad to get rid of his presence and escape further
scrutiny from his prying glances.

How relieved I felt when the fellow closed
the door after him and left me to "blow off the
steam" of my indignation all alone! And was I
not indignant? Only to fancy this insolent old
woman giving her orders without so much as
condescending to communicate with me! I am
left to learn her whim by a mere accident, or not
learn it at all, and exhibit myself ready to
depart at the inn door, and then hear, for the first
time, that I may unpack again.

This was unquestionably a studied rudeness,
and demanded an equally studied reprisal. She
means to discredit my station and disparage my
influence: how shall I reply to her? A vast
variety of expedients offered themselves to my
mind: I could go off, leaving a fearful letter
behind me—a document that would cut her to
the very soul with the sarcastic bitterness of its
tone; but could I leave without a reconciliation
with Miss Herbert—without the fond hope of
our meeting as friends. I meant a great deal
more, though I wouldn't trust myself to say so.
Besides, were I to go away, there were financial
considerations to be entertained. I could not,
of course, carry off that crimson bag with its
gold and silver contents, and yet it was very
hard to tear myself from such a treasure.

I say it under correction, for I have never
been rich, and, consequently, never in the position
to assert it positively, but I declare my
firm conviction to be that no man has ever
tasted the unbounded pleasure of a careless
liberality on a journey who has not travelled at
some other person's expense. Be as wealthy as
you like, let your portmanteau be stuffed full of
circular notes, and there will still be present, at
moments of payment the thought, "If I do not
suffer myself to be cheated, here, I shall have so
much the more to squander, there." But, drawing
from the bag of another, no such mean
reflection obtrudes. You might as well defraud
your lungs of a long inspiration out of the fear
of taking more than your share of the
atmosphere. There is enough, and will be enough
there when you are dust and ashes.

In fact, if I had on one side the "three
courses" of the great statesman, I had on the
other full thirty reasons against each, and,
therefore, I resolved to suspend action and do
nothing. And let me here passingly remark
that, much as we hear every day about the
merits of promptitude and quick-wittedness,
in nine cases out of ten in life, I'd rather "give
the move than take it." The waiting policy is
a rare one; it is the secret of success in love,
and of victory in an equity court. And so I
determined I'd wait and see what should come
of it; I appealed to myself thus: "Potts, you
are eminently a man of the world, one who
accepts life as it is, with all its crosses and
untoward incidents; who knows well that he must
play bad cards even oftener than good ones. No
impatience, therefore, no rashness; give at least
twenty-four hours' thought to any important
decision, and let a night's sleep intervene between
your first conception of a plan and its adoption."
Oh, if the people who are fretting themselves
about what is to happen this day ten years,
would only remember what a long time it is—
that is, counting by the number of events that
will occur between this and to-morrow—not to
say what incidents are happening at the
antipodes that will yet bring joy or sorrow to their
hearts they would keep more of their
sympathies for present use, and perhaps be the
happier for the doing so.

               GOING TO THE FRONT.

AN immense yellow placard, distributed with
the profusest liberality over the walls, dead and
living, of Genoa, informs the public that, on this
very evening, the 2nd of October, the flying
steamer, Veloce, departs for Naples, touching
for some brief moments at Leghorn. Provided
that instant application be made, room may be
discovered for two or three more passengers,
whose fare (prepaid at the office) will be held
forfeited, should the payers not present
themselves on board by nine o'clock in the evening,
at latest—to which hour the vessel's departure
has been postponed, in deference to the
convenience of parties arriving from Turin.

There was an air of headlong haste about the
placards themselves, which hung half-secured
to the walls, fluttering like quarantine flags.
And this, added to the tone of arrogant
condescension employed in the announcement, really
conveyed an impression that it would be a
considerable privilege, if not an actual liberty, to
take passage in such a vessel. Further, the
discovery that the rate of fares was one-fourth higher
than common, conjured up visions of luxurious
feasting, and berths of down, affording, on the
whole, a most desirable opportunity of seeing
what Naples and Garibaldi were doing. Where
is the office? Strada Mercolata. Thither, with
all speed!

To my eager questioning, a cool and tranquil
clerk responded that it would have become me to
apply earlier.

I submitted that the announcement was only
made to-day.

"Pardon. It has been for several days a
subject of satisfactory remark in Genoa, that the
Veloce would shortly commence running on this