hink he has gone to open another chest of
half-pence, but when a quarter of an hour has passed and he does not
reappear, you inquire about him amongst the other waiters.

A gloom at once falls upon them. You have spoken of the very thing that
has been troubling them. He used to be a waiter here once--one might
almost say until quite recently. As to what has become of him--ah! there
you have them. If in the course of their chequered career they ever come
across him, they will mention to him that you are waiting for him.
Meanwhile a stentorian-voiced official is shouting that your train is on
the point of leaving. You console yourself with the reflection that it
might have been more. It always might have been more; sometimes it is.

His Little Mistakes.

A waiter at the Gare du Nord, in Brussels, on one occasion pressed upon
me a five-franc piece, a small Turkish coin the value of which was
unknown to me, and remains so to this day, a distinctly bad two francs,
and from a quarter of a pound to six ounces of centimes, as change for a
twenty-franc note, after deducting the price of a cup of coffee. He put
it down with the air of one subscribing to a charity. We looked at one
another. I suppose I must have conveyed to him the impression of being
discontented. He drew a purse from his pocket. The action suggested
that, for the purpose of satisfying my inordinate demands, he would be
compelled to draw upon his private resources; but it did not move me.
Abstracting reluctantly a fifty-centime piece, he added it to the heap
upon the table.

I suggested his taking a seat, as at this rate it seemed likely we should
be doing business together for some time. I think he gathered I was not
a fool. Hitherto he had been judging, I suppose, purely from
appearances. But he was not in the least offended.

"Ah!" he cried, with a cheery laugh, "Monsieur comprend!" He swept the
whole nonsense back into his bag and gave me the right change. I slipped
my arm through his and insisted upon the pleasure of his society, until I
had examined each and every coin. He went away chuckling, and told
another waiter all about it. They both of them bowed to me as I went
out, and wished me a pleasant journey. I left them still chuckling. A
British waiter would have been sulky all the afternoon.

The waiter who insists upon mistaking you for the heir of all the
Rothschilds used to cost me dear when I was younger. I find the bes