hat longer, and perhaps somewhat sharper, too,
than a razor.'

We shook hands with all the cordiality of old comrades, meeting far away
from home, and in a land of strangers; and although each was full of
curiosity to learn the other's history, a kind of reserve held back the
inquiry, till Santron said, 'My confession is soon made, Maurice: I left
the service in the Meuse, to escape being shot. One day, on returning
from a field manouvre, I discovered that my portmanteau had been opened,
and a number of letters and papers taken out. They were part of a
correspondence I held with old General Lamarre, about the restoration of
the Bourbons--a subject, I'm certain, that half the officers in the army
were interested in, and, even to Bonaparte himself, deeply implicated
in, too. No matter, my treason, as they called it, was too flagrant, and
I had just twenty minutes' start of the order which was issued for my
arrest to make my escape into Holland. There I managed to pass several
months in various disguises, part of the time being employed as a Dutch
spy, and actually charged with an order to discover tidings of myself,
until I finally got away in an Antwerp schooner to New York. From that
time my life has been nothing but a struggle--a hard one, too,
with actual want, for in this land of enterprise and activity, mere
intelligence, without some craft or calling, will do nothing.

'I tried fifty things: to teach riding--and when I mounted into the
saddle, I forgot everything but my own enjoyment, and caracoled, and
plunged, and passaged, till the poor beast hadn't a leg to stand on;
fencing--and I got into a duel with a rival teacher, and ran him through
the neck, and was obliged to fly from Halifax; French--I made love to
my pupil, a pretty-looking Dutch girl, whose father didn't smile on our
affection; and so on, I descended from a dancing-master to a waiter,
a _laquais de place_, and at last settled down as a barber, which
brilliant speculation I had just determined to abandon this very night,
for to-morrow morning, Maurice, I start for New York and France again;
ay, boy, and you'll go with me. This is no land for either of us.'

'But I have found happiness, at least contentment, here,' said I
gravely.

'What! play the hypocrite with an old comrade! shame on you, Maurice,'
cried he. 'It is these confounded locks have perverted the boy,' added
he, jumping up; and before I knew what he was about, he had shorn my
hair, in