it not? _Garçon_, a pint of Bordeaux-Leoville."

I modestly admitted that it was not only my first visit to Rouen, but my
first to the Continent.

"Ah, you may go farther than Rouen, and fare worse," said he. "Do you
sketch? No? That's a pity, for it's deliciously picturesque--though,
for my own part, I am not enthusiastic about gutters and gables, and I
object to a population composed exclusively of old women. I'm glad, by
the way, that I preserved you from wasting your time among the atrocious
lumber of that so-called treasury."

"The treasury!" exclaimed my slim neighbor with the blue glasses. "Beg
your p--p--pardon, sir, but are you speaking of the Cathedral treasury?
Is it worth v--v--visiting?"

"Singularly so," replied he to my right. "One of the rarest collections
of authentic curiosities in France. They have the snuff-box of Clovis,
the great toe of Saint Helena, and the tongs with which St. Dunstan took
the devil by the nose."

"Up--p--pon my word, now, that's curious," ejaculated the thin tourist,
who had an impediment in his speech. "I must p--p--put that down. Dear
me! the snuff-box of King Clovis! I must see these relics to-morrow."

"Be sure you ask for the great toe of St. Helena," said my right hand
companion, proceeding imperturbably with his dinner. "The saint had but
one leg at the period of her martyrdom, and that great toe is unique."

"G--g--good gracious!" exclaimed the tourist, pulling out a gigantic