"Besides," urged the M. I. C., "this may be only a suburb of Hombourg. We may come to something better presently."

"Yes," replied the slim gentleman with withering irony, "to the pound, no doubt, and the stocks and the whipping post, and the ducks in the pond. Upon my word, sir, you've brought your pigs to a remarkably fine market."

This unkind and decidedly unparliamentary expression had scarcely escaped from the slim gentleman's lips, when the narrow, ill-paved little street merged into the smooth, powdry chaussée again. Then succeeded a range of-as well as the moon would allow them to see-kitchen gardens, then a grove of tufted trees, and then

THEN a broad, handsome, well-paved street, of seemingly interminable length. No gas-lamps on the pavement, but a profusion of big oil reverseres hung from ropes stretched high across the thoroughfare; plenty of shops, however, brilliantly lighted with gas -shops, too, gaily decorated and handsomely stocked. There were jewellers, watchmakers, milliners, staymakers, confectioners, tobacconists, stationers, printsellers, venders of toys and knicknacks. Jewels gleamed, waxen "dummies" simpered from hairdressers' shops; the air was redolent of the fumes of expensive cigars, the odour of genuine eau de-Cologne and patchouli; and the foot pavement was thronged with groups of dandies, in waxed moustaches and patent leather boots, and ladies with ravishing bonnets and cavalier-hats, and whose crinoline rustled in the autumn night breeze. So many large white buildings, too, with jalousied windows, on whose entablatured friezes you might read "Banque de Commerce," "Banque du Landgrafschaft," "Banque d'Escompte," "Banque et Bureau de Change."

66

Why, I've passed three Rothschilds already,"

the stout gentleman called out in amazement. "We shall come upon the statue of the Golden Calf next."

Midway in this grand street the road receded some hundred paces, forming a quadrangular area. Bounded by a gravelled carriage-drive, the area itself was laid out in grass-plats, and parterred, and was pierced in the midst by a broad avenue, lined by a double row of splendid orange-trees in tubs, and laden with fruit. And at the bottom, parallel with the street, was a vast and sumptuous edifice-a corps de logis-and wings of Grecian architecture. The lofty windows were blazing with gas; and before the portal stood carriages, while liveried lacqueys, and more dandies, and more ladies, in crinoline and cavalier-hats, hurried in and out.

"KURSAAL," said the postilion, pointing as usual with his whip.

"What's Kursaal ?" asked the stout gentleman. "The club, I suppose?"

"A concert and ball-room, perhaps," suggested the slim one.

Little did these three unsophisticated travellers know that the Kursaal was the chief booth in Vanity Fair.

So many vast, lofty, handsome mansions there were too, with large court-yards and portes cochères, and whose lower floor seemed to be occupied as cafés, for the travellers could see bearded and moustached loiterers smoking, drinking-card, domino, and billiard playing. The balconies, too, were full of idlers, ladies and gentlemen, puffing, cool-drink sipping, and flirting in the calm evening. What could these mansions be?

"Hodel di Bavière," growled the postilion, pointing with his whip to a very large house.

"Ha!" said the stout gentleman.

"Hodel des guadre Zaizons," the postilion next deigned to designate.

"Dear me! observed the stout gentleman.

"Hodel di Rome, de la Belle Edoile, de l'Embereur, de l'Eurobe, de la Gouronne di Brusse, Hodel Hesse, Hodel Royar, Hodel di FRANCE," the postilion went on in rapid succession, shifting his whip from right to left.

"You don't say so!" was the acute and pertinent remark of the stout gentleman.

They halted for a moment as these sage words escaped him, and were suddenly aware of the presence of a large white poodle, which advanced to the horses' heads as though to greet them. He was a very nice poodle, duly shaven, oiled, curled, trimmed, and frizzled up to the perfection of canine dandyism. He elevated his moist black muzzle to the Three-a highly-educated, accomplished, sophisticated, abominable beast. He seemed to say, "I am here-behold me. I am civilisation-I am Vanity. You are welcome-Evoc!"

"Why, this is Paris!" said the Three with almost unanimity.

"Paris, ja, sehr schön," the postilion chimed in, "aber Hombourg ist also schön, O! wunderschön.”

'Tis one of their idiosyncrasies in Germany, when 'you travel by stage-coach, to insist upon carrying you from post-station to post-station. They don't like you to join the wagen after its departure, and can't bear you to alight before it has reached its full point of destination. Thus the postilion insisted (if driving one without paying the slightest attention to remonstrances and arm-tugging can be taken as insisting) on proceeding at least a hundred yards beyond the Hotel de France, where the travellers (acting under the recommendation of the dwarf to the M. I. C.) had arranged to "descend," as the continental term is. To the complexion of the Post-Bureau at Hombourg,

having started from the Post-Bureau at Frankfort, the postilion was determined to come, and the travellers had nothing to do but to submit. So they were taken to the post, their luggage landed, trinkgelds distributed to driver and conductor; and some ten minutes afterwards, having made the necessary retrogade march, they were safely housed in three several bedchambers at the Hotel de France at Hombourg-von-der-Höhe.