Sebastopol."

"And was he killed?" asked the Member for SARK, making as though he
would help ARPACHSHAD with the basket on to his shoulder again.

"No," said ARPACHSHAD, overlooking the attention--"he lived to come
home; and last week he rode in the Lord Mayor's coach through the
streets of London, with all his medals on. Five shillings for the
day, and a good blow-out, presided over by Mr. AUGUSTIN HARRIS, in
his Sheriff's Cloak and Chain at the 'Plough-and-Thunder,' in the
Barbican."

HARTINGTON came down to see us to-day. Mentioned ARPACHSHAD, and his
natural indisposition to hurry himself.

"Why should he?" asked HARTINGTON, yawning, as he leaned over the
fence. "What's the use, as Whosthis says, of ever climbing up the
climbing wave? I can't understand how you fellows go about here with
your shirt-sleeves turned up, bustling along as if you hadn't a
minute to spare. It's just the same in the House; bustle everywhere;
everybody straining and pushing--everybody but me."

"Well," said SARK, "but you've been up in Scotland, making quite a lot
of speeches. Just as if you were Mr. G. himself."

"Yes," said HARTINGTON, looking admiringly at ARPACHSHAD, who had
taken off his coat, and was carefully folding it up, preparatory to
overtaking a snail, whose upward march on a peach-tree his keen eye
had noted; "but that wasn't my fault. I was dragged into it against
my will. It came about this way. Months ago, when Mr. G.'s tour was