iency were unsparingly bestowed.

Attaching ourselves to this or that party of travellers, we would go
off here or there, in any direction, for four or five days; and though I
usually found myself growing fond of those I became more intimate
with, and sorry to part from them, Eccles invariably wearied of
the pleasant-est people after a day or two. Incessant change seemed
essential to him, and his nature and his spirits flagged when denied it.

What I least liked about him, however, was a habit he had of "trotting"
me out--his own name for it--before strangers. My knowledge of
languages, my skill at games, my little musical talents, he would parade
in a way that I found positively offensive. Nor was this all, for I
found he represented me as the son of a man of immense wealth and of a
rank commensurate with his fortune.

One must have gone through the ordeal of such a representation to
understand its vexations, to know all the impertinences it can evoke
from some, all the slavish attentions from others. I feel a hot flush
of shame on my cheek now, after long years, as I think of the
mortifications I went through, as Eccles would suggest that I should
buy some princely chateau that we saw in passing, or some lordly park
alongside of which our road was lying.

As to remonstrating with him on this score, or, indeed, on any other,
it was utterly hopeless; not to say that it was just as likely he would
amuse the first group of travellers we met by a ludicrous version of my
attempt to coerce him into good behavior.

One day he pushed my patience beyond all limit, and I grew downright
angry with him. I had been indulging in that harmless sort of
half-flirtation with a young lady, a fellow-traveller; which, not
transgressing the bounds of small attentions, does not even excite
remark or rebuke.

"Don't listen to that young gentleman's blandishments," said he,
laughing; "for, young as he looks, he is already engaged. Come, come,
don't look as though you'd strike me, Digby, but deny it if you can."

We were, fortunately for me, coming into a station as he spoke. I sprang
out, and travelled third-class the rest of the day to avoid him, and
when we met at night, I declared that with one such liberty more I 'd
part company with him forever.

The hearty good-humor with which he assured me I should not be offended
again almost made me ashamed of my complaint. We shook hands over our
reconciliation, and vowed we were better fri