At the diverging roads, where dumb and scornful sat the sphinx of our destiny, while we lightly glanced at the path whence none return, save in such guise that death were dearer, why did our heedless footsteps cling all instinctively to the narrow, the thrice blessed way? And yet again, in the dark hour when we should have been watchful as the mariner on an unknown shore, who casts the lead over every foot of the passage through which his barque seems so easily gliding, how was our careless pride brought low, how sudden was the sorrow, how dreary the bondage, till we were ransomed from the dungeon of the pitiless one. From what endless weeping would not, alas, a dim knowledge and recognition of the _first false step_ have saved us! Such a false step Mr. Neuchamp was nigh upon adopting, with all its train of evil consequences. At the mid-day _table d’hôte_ at the Royal Hotel, sufficiently welcome to him after the weary main, sat a florid, good-looking, smiling, middle-aged man, evidently a gentleman, and not less surely connected with the country division. He happened, apparently by chance, to be seated next to Ernest, who was immediately attracted by his bonhomie, his humorous epigrammatic talk, joined to the outward signs and tokens of the man of the world. ‘You have not been very long in this part of the country?’ said the agreeable stranger. Ernest slightly coloured as he replied, ‘I certainly have not; but I confess I don’t see why I should be _affiché_ as a new and inexperienced traveller. You and I are dressed much alike, after all,’ added he, glancing at the other’s well-cut travelling suit of rough tweed and the black hat which hung beside his own upon the pegs provided for lunch-consuming visitors. ‘True, quite true,’ agreed his new acquaintance; ‘and it is not, perhaps, good manners to remark upon a gentleman as a species of foreign novelty. I remember a few years since chafing at it myself. But my heart warms to an Englishman of a certain sort. And we Australians learn to know the Britisher by all manner of slight signs, including a fresh complexion. I really believe, if you will pardon my rudeness in guessing, that you come from near my own county?’ Ernest explained the locality of Neuchampstead, upon which the affable stranger rose and shook him violently with both hands, exclaiming, ‘I could have sworn it. Our people have been friends for ages. I come from just over the border. You’ve heard of the Selmores, of Saleham?’ mentioning county people well known by name to Ernest. ‘Now this is very delightful,’ said his new friend, after all explanations had been made, ‘and I shall take charge of you without any scruple. You had better change your quarters to the New Holland Club. I can have you admitted as an honorary member without a day’s delay. I am a member; but I came here to-day to meet a friend, and have done so most unexpectedly, eh, my dear Neuchamp?’