of penetration to perceive that the elder was decided upon viewing all with a jaundiced eye, whilst the younger was disposed to be pleased and in good humour, with all around him.  The conducteur announcing that the Diligence was ready and that we must speedily take our seats, abruptly interrupted all my physiognomical meditations, and we quickly repaired to the heavy lumbering vehicle in which we were destined to be dragged to the gay metropolis.  Our names being called over in rotation, I found that the brothers had engaged places in the coupe as well as myself, but having priority of claim, had wisely chosen the two corners, the vacant seat in the middle falling to my lot; and I believe, as it proved, it was not a bad arrangement, as I acted as a sort of sand-bag between two jars, which prevented their jarring; in fact I formed a sort of juste milieu between two extremes, and no sooner were we installed in our respective places, than my mediating powers were called into operation, as the following dialogue will exemplify.

“They gave us a very nice dinner, sir,” said the good humoured brother who sat on my left.

I replied that I was very well satisfied with it.

“But you don’t know what their messes are made of.  For my part I like to know what, I eat,” observed the discontented brother on my right, “and you don’t mean surely, sir, to say that such as they gave us was anything to compare to a good English dinner.”

That, I remarked, was entirely an affair of taste; that I myself was most partial to the simpler mode of living of the English, but not so the high aristocracy of our country, with whom French cooks are in the greatest estimation.

“I was very much pleased with the vin ordinaire, as they call it, and found it a pleasant light wine, particularly agreeable when one is thirsty,” said Good Humour.

“Light enough at any rate,” returned Discontent, “and well named vin ordinaire, for ordinary it is in every sense of the word, pretty much like themselves for that; but if you like to have any when we are in England, I’ll make you some; take a little port wine, put some vinegar and a good deal of water with it and there you have it at once; is not that your opinion, sir?”

I replied, that I considered it a beverage well adapted for a sort of draught wine, but that it certainly had not the body that foreign wines have that we are in the habit of drinking in England.

Good Humour not appearing to relish his brother’s receipt for making vin ordinaire, changed the subject, by observing that a woman who was standing at the door of an auberge where we were stopping had a very fine expression of countenance, although rather thin and pale, but that there was a pensive cast which prevailed throughout her features and rendered the tout ensemble interesting.

“Oh very fine, indeed,” said Discontent, with a sarcastic smile, “as complete a picture of skin and grief as one could wish to see.  Pray, sir, is she one of your beauties?”