r with him? And still, while I stared
fascinated, yet horror-stricken, he continued, without intermission,
these speechless contortions and evolutions. Although he uttered not a
sound, he seemed to say with every cracking joint, "Come up, come up,"
while he scooped the air with his bony hands.

I remembered that it was midnight; that we were alone, and in wicked
Paris; that we had been religiously brought up; that Mrs. K.'s husband
was the superintendent of a large and flourishing Sunday school; that my
father was a minister of the gospel. I planted my feet firmly upon the
sidewalk. I folded my arms rigidly. I shook my head virtuously. Come up?
Chains should not drag me. Then I turned to the carriage.

"Mrs. K., do come and see this man."

She came. Together we stared at him with rigid and severe countenances.

"Dreadful!" said I, remembering the Sunday school.

"Awful!" said she, recalling the pious ancestors. And again we shook our
heads at his blandishments to the point of dislocation. The driver, who
had been all this time tipped back against a tree, began to show
symptoms of impatience. Something must be done.

"Suppose you ask for some one who can speak English," suggested Mrs. K.

"Sure enough." And I did. With one last, terrible grimace the ogre's
heels disappeared up the second flight of stairs.

There came down in a moment a thoroughly respectable appearing porter,
who informed us, in English, that we were expected, our telegram having
been received; though, through the ambiguity of its address, it had been
sent first to a house below. The people there had promised to forward
us, however, in case we followed the telegram. This accounted for the
movements of the little portress.

The _ogre_ proved to be a most good-natured _concierge_, who had been
instructed to keep the door open in anticipation of our arrival.

So our fears had been but feathers, after all, blown away by a breath;
our troubles only a dream, to be laughed over in the awakening.

* * * * *

Here the story of our journeying may end. The remaining distance,
through the kindness of friends, new and old, was accomplished without
difficulty or annoyance. We reached our own homes in due time, and like
the princess in the fairy tales, "lived happily forever afterwards."

A few practical words suggest themselves here which would pass unnoticed
in a preface--where, perhaps, they belong. First, in regard to the