ery day at the Cursaal, he seldom returned home of
an evening without some three or four chance acquaintances, whom he
presented to Nelly without knowing their names. But they were sure to be
"tip-top chaps," and "up to everything." Not that the latter eulogy was
much of an exaggeration; the majority of them, indeed, well deserving
such a panegyric. If Dalton's long stories about Ireland and its joys or
grievances were very uninteresting to these gentlemen, they found
some compensation in the goodness of his wine and the abundance of his
cigars; and hock and tobacco digested many a story which, without
such adjuncts, would never have found a listener. Play is, however, so
paramount to all else at Baden, that, as the season advanced, even a hot
supper from the "Russie" and an ice-pail full of champagne-flasks could
not attract the company from the fascinations of the gaming-table, and
Peter saw that his choice spirits were deserting him.

"You live so far away," cried one. "Your house is full a mile from the
Cursaal."

"There is such a climb-up to that crib of yours, Dalton," cried another.
"One can't manage it in this hot weather. Why won't you pitch your
tent in the plain? It's like going up the Righi to try and reach your
quarters."

Such and such like were the polite admonitions administered by those who
wanted a convenient lounge for their spare half-hours, and who, while
affecting to think of their friend, were simply consulting what suited
themselves. And is this philosophy confined only to Baden? Is not the
world full of friendships that, like cab-fares, are regulated by
the mile? The man who is half a brother to you while you live on the
Boulevard de Gand, becomes estranged from your bosom when you remove to
the Champs Elysees; and in these days of rapid transport, ten minutes'
walk would separate the most devoted attachments.

Dalton's pride was at first wounded by these remonstrances; but his
second thoughts led him to think them more reasonable, and even elevated
the grumblers in his esteem. "Sure, ain't they the height of the
fashion? Sure, is n't everybody trying to get them? Is it any wonder
they would n't scale a mountain for the sake of a glass of wine?" The
quiet home, so dear to him by many an association; the little window
that looked out upon the Alten Schloss, and beside which Nelly sat with
him each evening; the small garden underneath, where Hans cultivated
his beautiful carnations, and where