voice, so profound and so melodious that those two commonplace
words assumed a new importance, coming from his lips. His
personal appearance was in harmony with his magnificent voice--
he was a tall, finely-made man of dark complexion; with big
brilliant black eyes, and a noble curling beard, which hid the
whole lower part of his face. Having bowed with a happy mingling
of dignity and politeness, the conventional side of this
gentleman's character suddenly vanished; and a crazy side, to all
appearance, took its place. He dropped on his knees in front of
the footstool. Had he forgotten to say his prayers that morning,
and was he in such a hurry to remedy the fault that he had no
time to spare for consulting appearances? The doubt had hardly
suggested itself, before it was set at rest in a most unexpected
manner. Mr. Zant looked at his visitor with a bland smile, and
said:

"Please let me see your feet."

For the moment, Mr. Rayburn lost his presence of mind. He looked
at the instruments on the side-table.

"Are you a corn-cutter?" was all he could say.

"Excuse me, sir, " returned the polite operator, "the term you
use is quite obsolete in our profession." He rose from his knees,
and added modestly: "I am a Chiropodist."

"I beg your pardon."

"Don't mention it! You are not, I imagine, in want of my