Signor Tomkins shook his head wofully, and sank back in his seat, covering his face with his pocket-handkerchief, and weeping audibly.

Respecting the sorrow with which he appeared to be oppressed, Stubbs held his peace for the moment, and, still keeping pace with the diligence, moved on, considering, within himself, what could have brought Signor Tomkins to that part of the world under circumstances so little favourable to Alpine travel. He was not in mourning-so no family affliction caused his grief! It must be something else, and on that something he pondered, but forbore to question further.

After a certain interval, Signor Tomkins left off sobbing, and removed the handkerchief from his eyes.

"Pray excuse me," he said; "my nerves have had a shock. I am very susceptible."

"So it seems!" thought Stubbs. "I'm sure I did nothing to make him go on in this way."

There was no need of self-exculpation, for when Signor Tomkins spoke again he set Stubbs right on that point.

"You appear," he said, "to be a good sort of fellow, and I feel half inclined to- -But first, let me ask you a question! Are you-a-another's, or that wretched thing-a solitary wanderer ?"

"Why, as to wandering," replied Stubbs, "here I am pretty nearly a thousand miles from home, and the fact of my being alone with my knapsack and Alpenstock speaks for itself. But I'll just tell you who and what I am, and then you can judge for yourself. My name, as you might, perhaps, have heard when that post-office chap called the roll, is Stubbs: Richard Stubbs, at your service. I'm a clerk in our general postoffice-out for my month's holiday-no particular swell, you'll say, but I can afford the trip-and if I can't, my uncle can; he's a retired tradesman, lives at his own villa in St John's Wood, and one of these days— not that I want him to cut his stick-he'll do the handsome thing by me-so he tells me, and I've no reason not to believe him. But all this, you'll say, is not to the purpose of your question. It don't matter to you, I dare say, whether I'm a clerk at a hundred and fifty or the Postmastergeneral. You ask me if I'm married or single. That's the way, I think, you meant to put it?"

"Categorically-rudely-yes!"

"Well, then, as plainly, as nakedly as you please, I reply that I am a bachelor-and mean to remain one, till I meet with some pretty girl who likes me well enough to have me, and settles the question the other way."

66

Ah, the lava-flood of passion, as Byron sublimely says, has never seared your bosom; you are unwithered, unshrivelled,-still fresh in the pride of your greenness!"

"Not so green, perhaps, as you may fancy. two, though I've not been through the D.C. yet. your question, let me ask you one in return.'

I'm up to a thing or

But now I've answered

Signor Tomkins looked steadfastly at Stubbs, and with forced calmness

said: "Proceed!"

"Do you happen to be a Benedick ?"

you ask ?"

66

Why do

66

Because, if that's the case, you don't look like a happy one."

66

Happy!" cried Signor Tomkins, laughing bitterly-"Happy! As if I-I-could be happy! Listen. You see before you the veriest wretch that ever drew the breath of life! One utterly crushed, abandoned, pulverised! An object for man's scorn, for woman's mockery! In briefest phrase, a frenzied dupe!"

"I see how it is. You've been done. Some gal has thrown you

Over."

"What then,-'tis branded on my brow for all the world to read? Good! I like it! Ha! ha! There wanted but this to overflow my cup with misery! Have I not chosen well to seek these solitudes? So, then-you read the riddle of my existence."

"Not quite. Now you've begun, if you've no objection, I should like to know a little more. How did it all come about? It will do you good to let out a trifle. Don't bottle it up. Out with it like a man.' "You mean well, I believe. There is that in your countenance which tells me you are honest. At whatever risk I will trust you!"

A pause of a few moments ensued, and then, after gulping something down-the "climbing sorrow," no doubt-Signor Tomkins spoke again: "I never thought to have unbosomed myself to mortal man. My object was to fly my kind, and pass to my grave unknown like he,' Miserrimus,' who wrote that word upon his tombstone. With this object in view I fled from my native land; with this object I am here."

"Then that's not your real name, I suppose, on your luggage.” This remark took Signor Tomkins rather aback.

“I—ah”—he hesitated-" the fact is, we are the creatures of habit. Absorbed in grief at the moment I did my packing, I must have overlooked that circumstance. The name is mine, as 'twas my sire's. But you will keep my secret!".

"Oh, as far as I'm concerned, you may make yourself easy. I shall say nothing about it. Only if you want to keep your incognito, you had better get rid of those labels."

"It is scarcely worth while now. If I have unwittingly run the gauntlet through the French douane and all the railway stations, in the heart of the Grisons I may consider myself safe."

66

Well," said Stubbs, dryly-" perhaps they won't set the telegraphwires in motion up here, unless you happen to be mixed up in some plot against the life of Louis Napoleon."

"No!" exclaimed Signor Tomkins, eagerly, "I give you my honour that politics have nothing to do with my movements.'

"I can quite believe you," said Stubbs, who, long before this, had taken the full measure of Signor Tomkins.

"At times-and Oh, I remember!

"Where was I?" observed the latter-apparently not at all indisposed to make a confidant of his chance acquaintance. I cannot wonder at it-my memory plays me false. I said that I had hastily quitted England. This was the cause. A few weeks before that event I had, as I fondly supposed, won the affections of the fairest—yes, Ellen Smith, in spite of your perfidy, I will not deny your beauty; we were to have been married-I, at least, anticipated our union. We went together to flower-shows, to the Crystal Palace fêtes, to Mrs. Roseleaf's Evening Party, for all of which I provided the tickets; -I had urged her to be mine, and swift blushes were her reply! Could

I be deceived? I ordered all my wedding clothes-see, some of them cling to these limbs even now-I made every preparation for the wedding tour-engaged a charming villa at New Kensington to come back to-I did everything, in short, that an enamoured, an infatuated bridegroom in perspective could do-when, one morning at my club-the Bayswater Athenæum-I took up the Times and read-could I believe my eyesight ?-read:

"On the 14th inst., at Saint Thomas à Diddler's church, Tyburnia, by the Reverend Jeremiah Smuggler, rector, assisted by the Reverend John Flook, uncle of the bride, and the Reverend Goahead Smith, her brother, FOXEY PROWLER, Esq., of Snake-in-the-grass Lodge, Chiselhurst, to ELLEN, eldest daughter of BUNCOMBE SMITH, Esq., of Grinwell-terrace, Regent's Park. No cards. There!" cried Signor Tomkins, taking out his pocket-book, and extracting from it a slip of printed paper, which he thrust in Stubbs's face. "Look at that, and say if mental torture could be carried further."

"It is a settler, certainly," said Stubbs, as he handed back the announcement, which Signor Tomkins replaced in his pocket-book.

No cards!" reiterated the disconsolate lover. "Small need was there for that intimation. Mine, at least, they would never see! What did I do? Dashing the newspaper on the ground, and smashing a cup and saucer in the act for which I had one-and-six to pay before I left the room-in addition to the charge for breakfast-and leaving ham and eggs untouched, I felt, as Byron says, that England was no place for me.' Whither should I fly? My attention had already been directed to Italy; I had previously planned a summer tour;-how to be accompanied it is needless to tell you! Lake Leman, Chillon, the valley of the Rhine, the Simplon Pass, the Borromean Islands, Como,-all had been included. These illusions were rudely dashed aside. But Italy herself remained. One place existed, sacred to the unfortunate who love. To one of your intelligence, Mr. Stubbs, it is unnecessary that I should name Verona. I would drag myself to the tomb of Juliet, and there exhale the spirit which has become the prey of that Cressida-must Iname her?-the deceitful Mrs. Foxey Prowler. I am going there now, -choosing the wildest, the ruggedest, the remotest route, that none to whom I was erstwhile known may mark my passage. My emotions, Mr. Stubbs, are more intense than I can give you any idea of. At this moment I feel perfectly exhausted. Is there any place, do you think, where we are likely to get some breakfast? Even misery, you know, must feed. The prisoner does that between the doom and the scaffold." "Well," said Stubbs, when the Signor's tale was brought to an end,— "I am quite as peckish as you can be; starting so early, I got nothing to speak of before we set out, and it's now nearly eleven o'clock."

At this juncture the horses stopped on a comparatively level road, and the driver came from behind the diligence.

"Stehen Sie auf, Herr'n!" he shouted, and put his foot on the step, preparing to mount without more ceremony.

That means, I suppose," said Stubbs, as he saw the Professor also climbing up to his place," that we're off again. Good-by for the present."

"Farewell!" said Signor Tomkins, again subsiding in his corner,and the diligence moved briskly on.

II.

WHERE SIGNOR TOMKINS FOUND A FRIEND.

THE road now traversed a dreary waste, but, in about an hour's time, some objects became visible in the distance, which excited very pleasurable sensations in Richard Stubbs, and, to judge by the countenance of Herr Kinkel, equally did that man of science rejoice to see them. It was neither the romantic glacier of Palü nor the glittering height of the Piz Cambrena, both of which were also visible, that produced this effect, but two very ugly-looking barn-like buildings, whose ugliness did not diminish the more nearly they were approached, but whose attractions, nevertheless, increased in the same proportion-a paradox easy to understand, when it is stated that they were the shelters known as the Bernina houses," where refreshment was to be obtained for man and beast.

"Wir werden bald speisen dahin!" eagerly exclaimed the Pomeranian professor; and, though Stubbs could not have translated his language, which he (justly) called "beastly gibberish," he easily interpreted his meaning from the motion of his lantern jaws.

"Mangy?" he ventured to suggest, as the best substitute for Ger

man.

Ja

The inner consciousness of Herr Kinkel, rather than a critical appreciation of his companion's pronunciation, enabled him to reply, wohl! Ohne Zweifel!" and no sooner did the diligence halt, than with far greater activity than he had yet displayed he jumped from his seat, and made for the nearest house as fast as his legs could carry him. Stubbs, too, got quickly down, but, before he followed the Professor, he turned short and spoke to Signor Tomkins:

"We're to breakfast here, I take it. It seems a devil of a hole-but I suppose we shall make it out somehow."

"Gracious Heavens! In that dreadful place," said the Siguor, raising his lorgnette; but hunger prevailing over fastidiousness, he also left the diligence, and picked his steps through the dirt, carefully holding his nose with his disengaged hand.

When Stubbs and Signor Tomkins entered the inn, the interior of which fully justified the opinion they had formed from its external appearance, they found Herr Kinkel already seated and at work before a large bowl of hot milk, into which he was breaking up a huge piece of dark brown-bread, the only procurable food in this place of entertainment. This fact the two Englishmen only discovered when Stubbs called for "oon cutlet de mooton," and the Signor demanded "oon pulley"-with the adjunct of "caffy" in each case. To these perquisitions the host, a surly-looking fellow, replied by shaking his head, and pointing to the bread-and-milk on which the Professor was vigorously exercising his appetite.

"There's nothing for it, I fancy," said Stubbs, "but to do as he's doing. After all, bread and milk are not so bad! Donny moi!"-and he, too, was served.

"What a horrid misfortune!" cried Signor Tomkins, compelled to accept the same fare, "and with all these disgusting smells! I declare I can never get it down!"

But, when once he began, he did not leave off till all that was set before him was gone, never ceasing, however, to utter the direst lamentations.

"I was so dreadfully put out," he said, "the morning I left home, that I quite forgot the mountain-basket they packed up for me at Fortnum and Mason's, full of portable soup and tapioca, with an etna for boiling water, and everything. I meant it, you know, for my ascents with HER! I recollect, as perfectly as possible, telling Jackson, my man, to put it into the cab. He must have set it behind the door, or I should have been sure to have seen it-I am always so very particular. I have been miserable about that basket ever since! And it cost me one pound five. Money quite thrown away, for, I dare say, I shall never see it again."

Signor Tomkins had to add to that sum the amount which the gloomy landlord exacted for his share of the breakfast, and for which he charged quite as much as if he had supplied the cutlet, the chicken, and the coffee that had been so vainly asked for. At six thousand some hundred feet above the level of the sea, people are as keenly alive to the value of money as if they kept the Pandemonium hotel on its shore. At that elevation, however, those who are accidentally thrown together very soon become fast friends, and Stubbs, already far advanced in the confidence of Signor Tomkins, soon became more so.

On the proposition of the former, they "stretched their legs along the road" while the relay was getting ready, and, during their walk, entered into further conversation.

To the question of Signor Tomkins, as to how far he was going "that way," Stubbs answered that he didn't know.

"I've been knocking about these Swiss mountains," he said, "for the last ten days, and, having nobody to talk to but a parcel of guides, fellows that can't understand me any more than I can understand them, I made up my mind to cut it, and have a look at Italy, now I'm so near. What's the name of the place you said you were bound for?"

"Verona."

"What's to be seen there?"

"The Tomb of Juliet," returned Signor Tomkins, sighing profoundly. "Anything else?"

"There is a very fine amphitheatre."

"Any bull-fighting? I'm told a fellow ought never to miss seeing that when he comes abroad."

"I don't remember about the bull-fighting; but as Italy is famous for its bulls I think it very likely. I know, however-for Murray says sothat there's a great deal to be seen in Verona. I wish I could get you to accompany me. What do you say?"

"Well, perhaps I may. How far is it ?"

"Oh, we could get there in a day or two when once we're over the mountains. What time have you to spare ?"

"A fortnight good-and for the matter of that I know a fellow who would do my duty for a week or so if I wrote to let him know——”