of starting and arriving; very light eyes
she had, and eyebrows to match—so light
that they were almost undistinguishable,
a thin nose so evidently formed for the
reception of spectacles, that I couldn't help
thinking there must be a pair bestriding it
at that very moment, though, by some
supernatural means rendered imperceptible by the
naked eye. In fact, over the whole of her
appearance there was spread such a film of
invisibility from the colourlessness of countenance
and dress, that I sometimes expected to
see her evaporate altogether like the apparitions
in a German story. However, she did
not; but came forth in speech.

"Are you going far sir? beautiful  country!
very fine day."

Now it was impossible to answer all these
observations at once, unless by a bow; so I
bowed.

"Very far, sir? a delightful railway this—so
comfortable the carriages."

"Yes."

"To the very end of the line, sir? Are you
afraid of accidents in a railway? Do you think
they're likely to happen here?"

"No."

"Not to the end of the line? Perhaps to an
intermediate station? Business, sir?"

"Madam, you manage to ask always three
questions in a breath, and I can't answer
them at once. As to how far I am going,
I have not made up my mind. The object of
my journey is not business. This is a good
railway, and I am not much afraid of an
accident."

"You remind me, sir, excuse me for saying
so, of the great Mr. Pinker, of the Butts"; he
never gives me a straight answer to my
separate questions, but waits till they have
accumulated to a good number, and then
touches on them in their exact order."

"The great Mr. Pinker?" I inquired.

"You've heard of him, surely? the
childrens' book Mr. Pinker— he is such a
charming man, and edited the last edition of
Goody Twoshoes."

"And the Butts?" I farther inquired.

"My village; six miles from the next
station—were you never at the Butts? There's
a chalybeate there; are you fond of
chalybeates?"

"No."

"That's odd. You put me so in mind of
the great Miss Wormer. You don't say
you've never seen her? nor heard of her?"

"Never."

"Wonderful! why, she's Biddy Budd, the
greatest woman in England: such a soul—
such a genius."

"Biddy Budd, who is Biddy Budd?"

"Miss Wormer, I tell you. How surprised
the great Mr. Bangles will be when he hears
that the name of Biddy Budd is unknown
to a single European—you're European, of
course."

"I never heard of such a quantity of great
people," I said; "do they all live at the
Butts?"

"All? yes, and a great many more, all great
and distinguished. Mr. Bangles is a great
mathematician, and has invented a gig—come,
sir, you don't pretend not to know the
Bangles three-wheel ?"

"Not I, madam, but if the Butts is only
six miles from the station, I shall certainly
make a pilgrimage to the residence of so
many celebrities. Is there an inn at the
Butts?"

"The best inn in England. The great
Mr. Smith keeps it."

"Is he great, too?"

"He gained the tulip prize two years
running—a very great man. You will be
delighted with the Queeker Arms—the sign
is the family coat of the great Queeker family.
Mr. Q. talks of standing for the county,
and studies politics night and day—a great
man. He doesn't like Sir Robert Peel; do
you, sir?"

I saw no use in making the lady my
confidante, and gave no answer, but resolved
that, in lack of a better object for a journey,
a visit to the Temple of Fame, described in
such glowing colours by my companion, would
be a very good one. I am fond of seeing
great men—I saw Napoleon on board the
Northumberland, and Thistlewood hanged.
I have also seen the Swiss giantess, and Tom
Thumb.

On coming to the station I helped my new
acquaintance to descend, and afterwards
took charge of an infinite variety of trunks
and boxes. The train speedily passed on,
and I found myself standing on the platform,
keeping guard like a sentry over the luggage,
while the lady kept her eye fixed on me as
if she had been inspecting officer.

"Do you stop here, sir? a very dull place,
and quite new. We don't like it."

"No, madam; I am going on to the Butts.
Your description has so interested me that
I can't resist the inclination to visit it."

The lady pulled her veil down a little
farther, and gave a short little cough, and
then went sidling about among her traps,
counting them two or three times over, and
looking at them as if calculating their size
and weight. At last she nodded her head in
a very satisfied manner, and said, "It will
just do. Your fly can carry us all, and I can
show the way. Mamma will say I am a very
forward girl in making such an offer, but
I know the world, and you won't think worse
of me for being frank and open." I looked
again at her face as she talked of her mamma,
and called herself a girl. She was fifty years
old if she was a day, or, in fact, might have
passed for any age from fifty upwards, for her
locks were so light coloured that they might
have done duty as grey hairs in a rapid state
of descent with sorrow to the grave; and her
features so indistinct that they seemed to
have worn away in the course of years. Her