er an object of general attention. His
extremely prosperous appearance, his white billycock, his jewellery, and
so forth, coupled with the circumstance that he conversed in French with
Desmoulin, had led some of those present to imagine that he was a
Continental music-hall director on the look out for English 'artists.'

Again and again I noticed, as it were, a 'hungry' glance in his
direction; and when, after procuring an inkstand from over the bar, I had
ensconced him in a corner, where he was able after a fashion to pen his
correspondence, a vivacious and, it seemed to me, somewhat bibulous
gentleman in a check suit sidled up to where I stood and introduced
himself in that easy way which repeated 'drops' of 'Mountain Dew' are apt
to engender.

'Ah!' said he, after a few pointless remarks, 'your friend is over here
on business, eh? Right thing, splendid thing. It's only by looking round
that one can get real tip-top novelties. Oh! I know Paree and the
bouleywards well enough. I was on at the Follee Bergey only a few years
ago myself. A good place that--pays well, eh? I shouldn't at all mind
taking a trip across the water again. There's nothing like a change, you
know. Sets a man up, eh?'

Then mysteriously--lifting his forefinger and lowering his voice, 'Now
your friend wants "talent," eh? Real, genuine "talent"! I could put him
in the way----'

But I interposed: 'You've applied to the wrong shop,' I said by way of a
joke; 'my friend has all the talent he requires. He's quite full up.'

A sorrowful look came over the angular features of the gentleman in the
check suit. 'It's like my luck,' said he; 'there was a fellow over from
Amsterdam the other day, but he'd only take girls. I think the
Continental line's pretty nigh played out.'

He heaved a sigh and glanced in the direction of his empty glass. Then,
seeing that the novelist and Desmoulin were rising to join me, he
whispered hurriedly, _'I say, guv'nor, you haven't got a tanner you could
spare, have you?'_

I had foreseen the request; nevertheless I pressed a few coppers into his
hand and then hurried out after my wards.

Though it was still early we decided to start at once for Wimbledon. The
master, I thought, might like to see a little of the place pending
Wareham's arrival.

The journey through Lambeth, Vauxhall, and Queen's Road is not calculated
to give the intelligent foreigner a particularly favourable impression of
London. Still M. Zola did not