must carry your Aix, in the hope that you may leave
them there.

"I wonder," said the Member for SARK, who as usual is grumbling round,
"if the local female population was less unlovely in CHARLEMAGNE's
time? Probably, since he married with a frequency not excelled by our
HENRY VIII. But what was HILDEGARDE like--HILDEGARDE, his favourite
spouse? If she in any way resembled the women who throng the streets
of Aix-la-Chapelle to-day, C.'s lot was not a happy one. Never in any
city, in either hemisphere, have I suffered such a nightmare of ugly
ill-dressed women as is here found."

That is a most unfair and unjustifiable remark to make. Brimstone
evidently does not agree with SARK who is more disagreeable than ever.
The only thing that has touched his stony nature since he came to Aix
is the unselfish devotion of the local aristocracy to the interests
of the town. Visitors mustering in the Elisengarten for their
morning cups, notice the group of musicians in the orchestra by the
entrance-gate. Every man wears a top-hat, the only head-gear of the
kind seen in Aix. SARK, attracted by this peculiarity, made inquiries,
and learned from an intelligent native that these are nobles in
disguise, who, desirous of contributing to the common weal, turn out
at seven every morning to play the band. They are willing to sink all
social distinctions, save that they _will_ wear the cylindrical hat of
civilisation. Not comfortable, especially in wet weather; but it adds
an air of distinction to the group.

"Very nice of them," SARK grudgingly admits; "but"--he must have
the compensation of a sneer--"imagine our House of Lords forming
themselves into groups to play the band in Palace Yard, with HALSBURY
wielding the mace by way of _baton_! They'd never do it, TOBY, even in
top-hats. Germany's miles ahead of us in this matter."

Sorry to find Squire of MALWOOD, who spent a morning here on his way
to Wiesbaden, agreeing in SARK's view of the standard of female beauty
at Aix.

"Strange," he mused, "that Nature never makes an ugly flower or tree
or blade of grass; and yet, when it comes to men and women, behold!"
and he swept a massive arm round the blighted scene in the crowded
Kaiserplatz.

A small boy who thought the beneficent stranger in blue serge was
chucking pfennings about the Square, careered wildly round in search
of the treasure. We walked on without undeceiving him. To quote again
from an old friend: "There is nothing more