occupied carriages, the unthinking guard
would, in his impatience, have twice consigned
me to durance vile—once in company with
a whole juvenile family, who had already
commenced eating and smelling of ham
sandwiches, and once with no less than five
Caledonians, only waiting for an Englishman
that they might begin to dilate upon, the
perfections of their native land. I cast myself
into the last through-carriage in despair, and
without so much as looking before me. It
was probable that my luck would be better;
it could hardly, as may be imagined, at all
events, be very much worse.

Beside myself, the carriage had but one
other occupant; a young man of an altogether
gentlemanly appearance, except, perhaps,
that his clothes looked suspiciously new, and
his hat somewhat too glossy. He was not
reading the Times so intently but that he
could spare a scrutinising glance at the new
arrival, as I rammed my carpet-bag under
the seat with my hands, and kept a pretty
sharp look-out, under my right arm, on him.
"When I rose, he was again buried in—yes!
—in the advertisement sheet. The gentleman,
then, had probably some good reason for
concealing his talent for observation.
Nobody who is not in want of a situation gets
wrapped up in an advertisement sheet; and
my companion, I felt sure, was in want of no
such thing. His profession, whatever that
might be, had been settled long ago, and the
fishing-rod and guide-book which reposed
over his head disclosed a young gentleman
with money to spare, who was about to take
a summer holiday among the trout streams
of the north. One circumstance which
occurred just after we started, persuaded me
that he must needs be a lawyer (and, indeed,
as afterwards turned out, his pursuits did
somewhat partake of the nature of that
calling) so much did it smack of ready
reasoning and practised acuteness. Leaning
out of the window as the train began to
move, the wind carried away his glossy hat,
whereupon, instead of sitting down
forlornly, and muttering Good gracious! or
Confound it! the young man seized upon his
hat-box and launched that after the missing
property.

"My hat-box," he explained, in answer to
my stare of amazement, "has got my
Edinburgh address in it, but my hat has not.
The one is of little use without the other, and
it is probable, since we have barely left the
station, that they will both be found and
forwarded to me by the next train."

Here was an original! Here was a grand
exception to five-fifths of the human race
who travel in first-class carriages! I hugged
myself at the notion of having secured so
promising a companion, and that, too, after
such a couple of previous escapes.

"But how do you know?" I urged, because
I had nothing better to say, and was
determined, at all risks, not to suffer the
conversation to drop; "how do you know that
somebody won't steal them?"

"I don't know," replied the other, with a
contemptuous dryness, "but I do not think
it probable; the articles would fetch so small
a price that the reward would be likely to be
quite as remunerative as the swag itself, and,
of course, without the risk."

The swag! Did anybody who travels
first-class ever hear such an expression? I was
a good deal piqued, also, at the tone of
annoyance in which he spoke, and I replied,
tartly:

"I don't understand thieves' logic, nor the
language either."

"Ah, I do;" responded my companion,
carelessly. And he resumed his paper.

"We had passed Rugby, and were flying
through the dark dominions of King Coal,
before either of us again broke silence.

"Come," cried my bare-headed acquaintance,
suddenly, "there is no occasion for us
two to quarrel; only nothing puts me so out
of temper as to see a man proud of his
ignorance. Now, you are a keen, long-headed,
fellow enough, I can see, but you don't know
anything."

"Perhaps not," I replied, still annoyed by
the man's manner, and at the unaccustomed
position of second fiddle, in which I found
myself; "but I have really no ambition to
learn thieves' logic."

"What a type of the respectable classes of
this country you do afford," mused the other
coolly, "in this your excessive obstinacy
and conceit. You have no ambition to learn,
and yet, I dare say, that you, yourself, are
concerned, either directly or indirectly, in
endeavouring to diminish crime, and to put
down the profession of roguery. You help to
elect a member of parliament who votes upon
social subjects; you subscribe to benevolent
associations, for the moral rescue of criminals;
you consider the convict question to be an
exceedingly important one, and yet you——"
Here this irreverent individual absolutely
burst out laughing. "What would you
think of a doctor, now, who had prescribed
for a patient into the particular feature of
whose case he had really no ambition to
inquire?"

"I am not a doctor!" I roared, out of all
patience; "and I wish all the thieves in
England were to be hung to-morrow."

"The country would be very sadly
depopulated," replied the other, impassively:
"you and I would certainly never meet
again."

"This is downright insult," I exclaimed,
with indignation; "I shall take care to
change carriages and company at the very
next station."

"Nay, sir, I meant no offence," responded
my companion, gravely; "I referred only to
myself as being doomed to be cut off in the
flower of my days, if your wishes should be
carried into effect. I have been a pickpocket