I laughed heartily myself at the energy of Dagentree's vituperation. "True," said I, "but the same people who were so glad to get away will be as glad to come back, which proves it is not all hypocrisy."

'It proves no such thing. They like your dinners, I admit; they like to have it said they are on visiting terms with you; they like to have a chance of disposing of their daughters; they like to escape the dreariness of their own homes; and they like to have something and somebody to abuse. These are

genuine tastes; and you may rely on their being indulged on any opportunity that offers. But these, and such as these, are the true thoughts which lie under pleasant and friendly faces."

"Not under mine, at all events; which, if not pleasant, is at least friendly. But I find no true philosophy in your cynical vein. You have no right to judge your kind if you refuse to study them. St Anthony, you know, even in the wilderness, found more temptations than he could altogether combat."

"He brought that on himself for his untidy and savage mode of life. An anchorite need not neglect to wash. He may wear a clean shirt, and sleep between well-aired sheets, though he were a very Timon. But no such elements enter here as disturbed that questionable saint's repose."

"So much the worse for the hermit,

But is it true

that your heart has remained proof until now against the assaults of the mighty enslaver of saints and sinners? Were you never in love?"

"I am not quite sure," said my friend, quite gravely. "I have only suspected it twice in my life. My first flame enslaved me at Harrow, and she was an entirely historical character, and, I believe, I was her sole adorer. You may remember that I used to learn (and on what compulsion) sundry lines from a book no mortal ever reads willingly, I mean 'Silius Italicus.' I actually mastered the first two books of his divine, but utterly forgotten and entirely unreadable, 'Punic War.' There was a damsel whose prowess was recorded in sounding hexameters in those pages; of whom it is written, that after careering much in front of beleaguered Saguntum, and having done many warriors to death, her horses reared at the apparition of a hero with a lion's skin on his helmet, and the hero cut off her head neatly, and carried it into Saguntum on the point of his spear. Time has mellowed my enthusiasm, but she was my ideal for many a reverie; and even now I never see a Grecian head on slim neck and sloping shoulders without thinking how it would look on the top of a lance, and displayed over the parapet of Chester walls, which I always identified with that redoubtable fortress."

"A very hopeless attachment. But what of the second?"

"Well, the second was less romantic-and more serious, perhaps-but a little out of the beaten track. It was, in short, what you would call an adventure; and as I am not ashamed of my part in it, the tale is at your service."

CHAPTER V.

BENEVOLENCE.

NCE I did meet a fair one in my travels; and

"ON

you may triumph, if you will, over the fact. I own, also, that even my philosophic heart looks back with something of interest to the short romance of which she was the heroine.

"Some four years ago, after spending a fortnight in Paris-where, in confirmation of my views, every one does the same thing every day-I was on my way by rail to Calais, returning to revisit the fogs of mine own unromantic land. We stopped for a quarter of an hour at Amiens, and on the platform I observed a young and lady-like woman, with a little boy just old enough to totter about in her hand. She was not at all a mysterious fair one; and her greatest share of beauty was her youth, and the bright animated expression which lighted up a face not untouched by care. She was dressed in good taste, but plainly, almost economically, and her appearance generally indicated more breeding than worldly prosperity."

"Prettily described! The cynic seems to have used his eyes with unnecessary minuteness."

"We were preparing to resume our seats, and the train was moved forward to take on some trucks, when I heard at my side a piercing scream; and turning round, I saw the little fellow on the rails, just in front of the advancing engine. The mother had let go his hand for a moment, and the child had scrambled to the edge of the platform, and rolled over. In an instant, a railway porter had seized and rescued the little one. The mother made a spring forward, and would have plunged into certain destruction, had I not grasped and detained her. She then fainted dead away. Time was up, and the train was about to start; but time was of little consequence to me, and money not of much more, so I resolved to wait for the next train, and see how the poor woman fared. The train went off, and my luggage with it; and I was left on the platform at Amiens.

"The lady was kindly cared for by the railway people. Your Frenchman has a soft heart and a gentle hand in such emergencies. She came slowly to herself, and her first cry was for her child. He was standing by her, talking artlessly to his sleeping mammy in his infantine English. She then raised herself with a startled look, and tried to stand up, saying she must go and take her seat; but the effort was