"Still the young head was bent, and the handsome face hidden; and
Melchior was finding his life every moment more real and more happy.
For there was hardly a thing, from the well-filled 'barracks' to the
brother bedfellow, that had been a hardship last night, which this
morning did not seem a blessing. He rose at last, and stood in the
sunshine, which was now pouring in; a smile was on his lips, and on
his face were two drops, which, if they were water, had not come from
the shower-bath, or from any bath at all."

* * * * *

"Is that the end?" inquired the young lady on his knee, as the story
teller paused here.

"Yes, that is the end."

"It's a beautiful story," she murmured, thoughtfully; "but what an
extraordinary one! I don't think I could have dreamt such a wonderful
dream."

"Do you think you could have eaten such a wonderful supper?" said the
friend, twisting his moustachios.

After this point, the evening's amusements were thoroughly successful.
Richard took his smoking boots from the fire-place, and was called upon
for various entertainments for which he was famous: such as the
accurate imitation of a train just starting, in which two pieces of
bone were used with considerable effect; as also of a bumble-bee, who
(very much out of season) went buzzing about, and was always being
caught with a heavy bang on the heads and shoulders of those who least