early, is to take the work out of the hands of the Sculptor who fashions
men. Happily a youth is always at school, and if he was shut up and
without mark two or three hours ago, he will have something to show you
now: as I have seen blooming seaflowers and other graduated organisms,
when left undisturbed to their own action. Where the Fates have designed
that he shall present his figure in a story, this is sure to happen.

To the postillion Evan was indebted for one of his first lessons.

About an hour after midnight pastoral stillness and the moon begat in the
postillion desire for a pipe. Daylight prohibits the dream of it to
mounted postillions. At night the question is more human, and allows
appeal. The moon smiles assentingly, and smokers know that she really
lends herself to the enjoyment of tobacco.

The postillion could remember gentlemen who did not object: who had even
given him cigars. Turning round to see if haply the present inmate of
the chariot might be smoking, he observed a head extended from the
window.

'How far are we?' was inquired.

The postillion numbered the milestones passed.

'Do you see anything of the coach?'

'Can't say as I do, sir.'

He was commanded to stop. Evan jumped out.