ewhat dingy
and faded, the elaborate shirt-front which appeared at yesterday's
banquet. Farewell, Herr Oberkellner! May we never see your handsome
countenance, washed or unwashed, shaven or unshorn, again!

Here come the ladies: "Good morning, Miss Fanny. I hope you slept
well, Lady Kicklebury?" "A tremendous bill?" "No wonder; how can you
expect otherwise, when you have such a bad dinner?" Hearken to Hirsch's
comminations over the luggage! Look at the honest Belgian soldiers, and
that fat Freyschutz on guard, his rifle in one hand, and the other hand
in his pocket. Captain Hicks bursts into a laugh at the sight of the fat
Freyschutz, and says, "By Jove, Titmarsh, you must cawickachaw him."
And we take our seats at length and at leisure, and the railway trumpets
blow, and (save for a brief halt) we never stop till night, trumpeting
by green flats and pastures, by broad canals and old towns, through
Liege and Verviers, through Aix and Cologne, till we are landed at Bonn
at nightfall.

We all have supper, or tea--we have become pretty intimate--we look at
the strangers' book, as a matter of course, in the great room of the
"Star Hotel." Why, everybody is on the Rhine! Here are the names of half
one's acquaintance.

"I see Lord and Lady Exborough are gone on," says Lady Kicklebury,
whose eye fastens naturally on her kindred aristocracy. "Lord and Lady
Wyebridge and suite, Lady Zedland and her family."

"Hallo! here's Cutler of the Onety-oneth, and MacMull of the Greens, en
route to Noirbourg," says Hicks, confidentially. "Know MacMull? Devilish
good fellow--such a fellow to smoke."

Lankin, too, reads and grins. "Why, are they going the Rhenish circuit?"
he says, and reads:

Sir Thomas Minos, Lady Minos, nebst Begleitung, aus England.

Sir John AEacus, mit Familie und Dienerschaft, aus England.

Sir Roger Raadamanthus.

Thomas Smith, Serjeant.

Serjeant Brown and Mrs. Brown, aus England.

Serjeant Tomkins, Anglais. Madame Tomkins, Mesdemoiselles Tomkins.

Monsieur Kewsy, Conseiller de S. M. la Reine d'Angleterre. Mrs. Kewsy,
three Miss Kewsys.

And to this list Lankin, laughing, had put down his own name, and that
of the reader's obedient servant, under the august autograph of Lady
Kicklebury, who signed for herself, her son-in-law, and her suite.

Yes, we all flock the one after the other, we faithful English folks. We
can buy Harvey Sauce, and Cayenne Pepper, and Morison's Pills, in every
city in the wo