one arrange the circumstances of his
story, but he must perform the hero, and that, too, as we saw lately
at Padua, without any adventitious aid of dress or costume. I can fancy
what a sorry figure some of our popular tale-writers would present if
they had to appeal to an innkeeper with this poor story of their luggage
lost in the Danube. What a contempt the rascal must have had for Italian
notions of geography, too, when he adopted a river so remote from
where he stood! And yet I'd swear he was as cool, as collected, and as
self-sustained at that moment, as ever was Mr Gladstone in the House as
he rose to move a motion of supply.

Well, he is in Padua now, doubtless dreaming of fresh conquests, and not
impossibly speculating on a world whose gullibility is indeed infinite,
and which actually seems to take the same pleasure in being cheated in
Fact as it does in being deceived in Fiction. Who knows if the time is
not coming when, instead of sending a box of new novels to the country,
some Mr Mudie will despatch one of these R. N. F. folk by a fast
train, with a line to say, "A great success: his Belgian rogueries most
amusing; the exploit at Madrid equal to anything in 'Gil Bias'."

GARIBALDI

We had a very witty Judge in Ireland, who was not very scrupulous about
giving hard knocks to his brothers on the bench, and who, in delivering
a judgment in a cause, found that he was to give the casting-vote
between his two colleagues, who were diametrically opposed to each
other, and who had taken great pains to lay down the reasons for their
several opinions at considerable length. "It now comes to my turn," said
he, "to declare my view of this case, and fortunately I can afford to
be brief. I agree with my brother B. from the irresistible force of the
admirable argument of my brother M."

The story occurred to me as I thought over Garibaldi and the
enthusiastic reception you gave him in England; for I really felt, if it
had not been for Carlyle, I might have been a bit of a hero-worshipper
myself The grand frescoes in caricature of the popular historian have,
however, given me a hearty and wholesome disgust to the whole thing; not
to say that, however enthusiastic a man may feel about his idol, he must
be sorely ashamed of his fellow-worshippers. "Lie down with dogs, and
you'll get up with fleas," says an old Irish adage; but what, in the
name of all entomology, is a man to get up with who lies down with these
votar