friend Fluker, snatching up the kaleidoscope,
"you've been and done it. The thing is
shaken to pieces."

RENCONTRES.

IN these days of rapid travelling by steam
and rail, you are continually meeting with
the same persons in different parts of the
world. One day you shake hands on the top
of the Alps with an acquaintance whom you
last met at the coronation at Moscow; or
exchange a few hurried words at the
Manchester station with the friend you met at
a dinner party in Peru. You can hardly ever
enter into conversation, either in a steamer
or in a railway-carriage, without finding that
he or she knows somebody whom you either
know or have met before. I am often travelling
by sea and land, and such rencontres
with me are not scarce.

Not long since I got into a Hampstead
omnibus; its only other occupant was a
gentleman, who, after a few moments, said:

"Pardon me, but I think I have had the
pleasure of meeting you before: were you
ever in Russia?"

I replied, I had only returned a few weeks
from that country.

"Then," said he, "I am not mistaken. I
once experienced a kindness from you, which
I have not forgotten. Do you remember on
the Empress's fête-day, some five years
since, on returning from Peterhoff,
overtaking a gentleman on the road who was in
much distress, occasioned by the break down
of his droshky, and the incapability of the
intoxicated driver, who would insist upon
lying down in the road, beside his shattered
vehicle, and there take his rest?"

I assented with a laugh.

"Intreaties, promises, and threats were
of no avail; neither Ishvotschik nor I
understanding one word of the other's
language," continued the gentleman. "I was
in despair, not knowing the country, nor
which road to pursue; so I had the pleasing
prospect of passing the night under the
canopy of heaven, with a drizzling rain
coming on. My only consolation was, that
the road being very narrow, the broken
droshky of course would be an impediment
to other carriages passing quickly, so that I
might perhaps beg a lilt; but, from the lateness
of the hour, and knowing also there
was another road to town, my hopes of the
probability of such an occurrence were but
small. However, I lighted my cigar, and
could only chafe at the unfortunate accident
that had placed me in such an uncomfortable
position. In about a quarter of an hour I
heard wheels approaching."
"The carriage I was in," I mentioned.
"I called out lustily, the carriage stopped,
the coachman dismounted from his seat to
remove the droshky to one side of the road to
enable his own vehicle to pass. A gentleman
in uniform also alighted, and accosted me in
his own language. Finding I did not understand
him, he addressed me in French; and,
on hearing my story, politely offered me a seat
in his carriage. He was returning to town
from the fête with an English friend, who, if
I mistake not greatly, is now before me."

I repeated that I remembered the circumstance
very well, and that we left the gentleman
at his own hotel in the Moskowa,
whence he was to start the next day on his
return to England. Five years had not
effaced this little courtesy from his mind, and
he was exceedingly desirous of showing me
some civility in return. But a Hampstead
omnibus is not the best possible place for
an exchange of courtesies, and we parted with
the hope mutually expressed that we should
meet again.

Several years ago, arriving late at night at
one of the station-houses in Sweden, where I
had to wait an hour while horses were being
brought from the fields, I found a gentleman,
similarly situated, pacing up and down the
room whistling for want of thought. We
commenced conversation, and found that some
years before we had met at a pic-nic a few
miles from Saint Omer, and had visited in
company the ruined towers of Saint Bertin.
We renewed again with pleasure an old
acquaintance; and, when our respective
vehicles were ready we parted most friendly,
he pursuing his journey to Stockholm, and
we to England; never, perhaps, to meet
again. It is thus with travellers. They
often become bosom friends for a few hours,
and are then separated for ever.

Coming down the Rhine last year, I
met a gentleman on board who had recently
returned from India. He had passed through
all the horrors of Lucknow, and could not
recall its scenes without a shudder. Having
lost relations there, I naturally inquired
if he knew any of them, and found that
he had not only been with my first cousin in
his last moments, but that he had brought
his wife to England, helping her to escape to
Calcutta, and passing with her through many
dangers in evading the enemy. We had both
heard of each other; but could never have
contemplated the introducing ourselves on
board a Rhine steamer.

Another time, on the railway from Brussels,
we met a gentleman who had passed some
years in China. We also had a friend who
had not long returned thence. I
mentioned his name, and it appeared the stranger
and he were intimately acquainted. In fact,
he said, they were brothers in heart, and he
was now on his way to Baden, where, he
understood, my and his friend was staying,
on purpose to see him; looking forward to
the meeting with a lively pleasure. I informed
him that I thought his journey would be
useless, as I knew he had been expected in
Scotland on a visit, and believed that he was
now in that country. Alas! we were both