LITMIR.BIZ

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Ouner recommends best to all foreigners, are to have ordinary and artful baths, russia and sulphury bagnios, pumpings, artful mineral waters, gauze lemonads, fournished apartmens for patients.' A French advertisement relating to a house to be let, with immediate possession, takes this extraordinary form: 'Castle to praise, presently.' Those who know the twofold meaning of the verb louer in French will see how this odd blunder arose. A dentist at Honfleur 'renders himself to the habitations of these wich honor him with their confidence and executes all wich concarns his profession with skill and vivacity.'

      At Frankfort-on-the-Main, 'M. Reutlinger takes leave to recommande his well-furnished magazin of all kind of travelling-luggage and sadle-work.' Affixed to a pillar outside the Théâtre Français, some years ago, was a bill or placard: 'Hardy Cook, living to the Louvre on the West Gate under the Vestibule, old emplacement of late M. Kolliker. He will serve you with list, and he has parlours and privates rooms, receives Society, and has always some Shoueroute and Disters of Cancall.' Inscrutable words these last, certainly. At Havre, local regulations for the convenience of visitors are printed in various languages; English people are informed that 'One arrangement can make with the pilot for the walking with roars.' 'Pilot' for 'guide' is not far amiss; but 'roars' as an English equivalent for 'ramparts' (if that is meant) is odd enough; and if not, the enigma is just as formidable. The much-used French on evidently increased the difficulty of the poor translator.

      A Guide to Amsterdam was published in Holland, in English, some years ago; professing to be written, edited, or translated by an Englishman. Its style may be judged from the following specimen, relating to the manners and customs of many of the inhabitants on Sundays and holidays: 'They go to walk outside the town gates; after this walk they hasten to free public play gardens, where wine, thea, &c. is sold. Neither the mobility remains idle at these entertainments. Every one invites his damsel, and joyously they enter play gardens of a little less brilliancy than the former. There, at the crying sound of an instrument that rents the ear, accompanied by the delightful handle-organs and the rustic triangle, their devoirs are paid to Terpsichore. Everywhere a similitude of talents; the dancing outdoes not the music.'

      A Dutch volume containing many views in the Netherlands, with descriptions in three or four languages, claims credit for 'the exactness as have observed in conforming our draughts to the originals,' which (a hope is expressed) 'cannot fail to join us the general applause.' Of one village we are told, 'That village was renouned by the abandon of saulmons that were fiched there. That village is situated in a territory that afford abandon of fruits and corns.'

      A small guide-book for English visitors to Milan cathedral is prefaced by the statement that, 'In presenting to the learned and intelligent publick this new and brief description of the cathedral of Milan, i must apprise that i do not mean to emulate with the works already existing of infinite merit for the notions they contain, and the perspicuity with which they are exposed.'

      FROM DAWN TO SUNSET

      PART I

      CHAPTER THE FOURTH

      'Father, where do you go away all day?' It was Charlie who spoke, clambering on his father's knee.

      'I drive the coach, boy.'

      'Coach? An' what is that?'

      'Goodsooth, boy, thou hast seen a coach?'

      'Ay, father – the coach an' four horses that runs to Grantham. You do not drive a thing like that?'

      'Ay. And why not?'

      The boy blushed scarlet. 'Why, father, you are Sir Vincent Fleming.'

      'An' what o' that?'

      'Then is it not against your pride to be a coachman?'

      'Poor men must pocket pride, Master Charlie, as thou must learn some day.'

      'Well, father, I like it not. Are you so poor, dear heart?'

      'Ay, sweet heart, am I.'

      'What makes ye so poor?'

      'Ill luck, Master Charlie.'

      'What in, is your ill luck, father?'

      'In all things.'

      'Dear heart alive, I'm sorry for ye! When I'm a man, father, you shall go no more a-coaching; I will work for you.'

      'Ay, ay, my brave dear lad. I coach to win ye bread. We're poorer than the world thinks. But tell them not this, Master Charlie, or they will dun me.'

      'Then I'll dun them!' cried the boy fiercely. 'I hate those bailiff fellows; if they come here, I'll shoot 'em!'

      'We'll fight 'em together, boy. See that thou never hast the bailiffs at thy heels. Here is Deb, Lady Deb by courtesy. Mistress, my rose, say good-morning to me.'

      But Deborah was already in her father's arms.

      'Deb,' cries Charlie, 'father drives a coach!' Then seeing Deborah's round eyes: 'Now don't you clack, Deb; don't you go an' tell it to all the world, else they will dun father.'

      'O me!' Then Deborah's eyes flashed. 'That they shall not – never again! But I tell you, father; I will coach beside you, and try to drive the four brave horses! I will not let you work alone!' Deborah's arms were round her father's neck; she showered kisses on his face.

      'Off with ye!' cried Charlie, somewhat fiercely. 'You know that if any one should coach with father, I should – not a baby like to you.'

      'Hush!' said Sir Vincent, laughing. 'Thou art ever ready to fight. I have spoiled ye both sadly; so Master Vicar tells me. But Deb, I cannot have thee to help me, little one. Get Dame Marjory to teach thee all the ins and outs of household work, and to trick thyself out bravely, so thou wilt be thy father's pride, my rose of Enderby!'

      But Deborah laid her head on her father's breast, caressing him. 'Father, you love Charlie best – Charlie is your darling.'

      'Who told thee so, sweet heart?'

      'My own heart.'

      'Dost love me best, father?' asked Charlie; he pushed his curly head up on to his father's shoulder, and looked up with arch eyes into his face.

      Sir Vincent gazed at him. Ay, the father's rose lay upon his heart, his 'Lady Deb,' his darling; but that wilful rogue, that youthful inheritor of all his own wild freaks and follies, that young ne'er-do-weel, Charles Stuart Fleming, the plague of Enderby, was his own soul, the idol of his darkened life. Sir Vincent pushed him roughly away, and laid his hand on Deborah's fair hair. 'Love thee better? No; thou graceless rogue!' he said. 'I love thee both alike. Sweet Deb, thou art my darling too. Now be off with you both; and see that there is no more gipsying or ruffling it while I am away; for Jordan Dinnage shall have orders, if you disobey, to flog ye both with the rope's end; for nought but that, I fear me, will curb the villainy of either one. Good-bye, sweet hearts, an' see that ye stir not beyond the gates.'

      The gipsies had vanished from that part of the country; not a trace of them was left; for they knew Sir Vincent Fleming well, and fled betimes. But Sir Vincent had not been gone three hours, when the restless roving Charlie was scouring round the park on his pony, and longing for some fresh adventure and wider bounds. Deborah and little Meg Dinnage were running after him, and urging on the pony with many a whoop and yell, with torn frocks and streaming hair.

      'Deb,' cried the boy at last, pulling up, 'I am sick o' this. I am goin' to ride to Clarges Wood, to look for Will; I shall cut across yonder.'

      'But you must not!' exclaimed Deborah; 'you have promised father not to go beyond the gate.'

      'I have never promised that,' said Charlie hotly; 'father asked me no promise, an' I gave none. It is nothing o' the sort.'

      'Nathless it was a promise,' quoth little Deborah stoutly, glancing from Charlie to Meg Dinnage, and back in distress; 'for we said nought when father said: "An' see you stir not beyond the gates;" but I kissed him, an' I said: "I will not."'

      'You did not say that, silly!'

      'Nay, but to my own self I said it. Father has trusted us; so Dame Marjory says.'

      'I care not for Dame Marjory.

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