done. He looks miserably bilious and frightened.

I had rather partake of a rare dinner than describe one. The wines
alone represented all the cellars of the Rhine and the whole champagne
country. Fortnoye, who gave the feast, entertained both Sylvester's
party and his own with regal good cheer. Think not that Henri Fortnoye
was the ordinary obfuscated, superfluous, bewildered bridegroom. On
the contrary, assuming immediately the head of his own table, he took
the responsibility of the party's merriment, and made the good humor
flow like the wine. I know not how it was, but ere the meal was over
I found myself joining in one of his choruses; Frau Kranich forgot
her asceticism and exhumed all her youthful air of gayety; James
Athanasius Grandstone promised the host to set his wines running in
every State of America. But the prettiest moment was when the two
brides rose and touched glasses, mutually and to the health of the
company, apropos of a little wedding-song which Fortnoye had composed
and was trolling at the head our willing chorus.

[ILLUSTRATION: HOMEWARD BOUND.]




CONCLUSION.


I have arrived at Marly, and, with the ssistance of much sarcasm from
Hohenfels, am getting on with considerable spirit at my Progressive
Geography. When man's Hope ceases temporarily to take a merely Human
aspect, may it not suffer a fresh avatar and begin in a new and