The good God gave hands, left and right, To deal with divers foes in fight; And eyes He gave all sights to hold; And limbs for pacings manifold; Gave tongue to taste both sour and sweet, Gave gust for salad, fish and meat; But, Christian Sir, whoe'er thou art, Trust not thy many-chambered heart! Give not one bow'r to Blonde, and yet Retain a room for the Brunette: Whoever gave each other part, The devil planned and built the heart! --_In a Double Locket_. Clara, Amidon and Blatherwick were on their way to Bellevale. The professor was in the smoking-car, his daughter and Florian in the parlor-car. Amidon, his nerves strained to the point of agony, sat dreading the end of the journey, as one falling from an air-ship might shrink from the termination of his. Madame le Claire brooded over him maternally. "Of course," said Amidon, "this Brassfield must have adopted some course of behavior toward Miss Waldron, when----" "You must call her Elizabeth," said Madame le Claire, "and----" "And what?" he inquired, as she failed to break the pause. "Have you found out--much--about it--from him?" "Not so very much," she replied, "only she'll expect such things as 'dearest' and 'darling' at times. And occasionally 'pet' and 'sweetheart'--and 'dearie.' I can't give them all; you must extemporize a little, can't you?" "Merciful heaven!" groaned Amidon; "I can't do it!" "You have," said Madame le Claire; "and more--a good deal more." "It was that scoundrel Brassfield," said he, in perfect seriousness. "More? What do you mean by 'more'?" "Well, sometimes you----" "He, not I!" "You, I think we had better say--sometimes, when you were alone, your arm went about her waist; her head was drawn down upon your bosom; and with your hand, you turned her face to yours, and----" "Clara, stop!" Amidon's bashful being was wrung to the sweating-point as he uttered the cry. "I never could have done it! And do you mean to say I must now act up to a record of that kind--and with a strange woman? She--she won't permit it---- Oh, you must be mistaken! How do you know this?" Madame le Claire blushed, and seemed to want words for a reply. Amidon repeated the question. "I want to know if you are sure," said he. "To make a mistake in that direction would be worse than the other, you know." "Ah, would it?" said Clara; "I didn't know that!" "Oh! I think we may take that for granted." "You really don't get a grain of good from your Brassfield experience," said she, "or you'd know better." Here ensued a long silence, during which Amidon appeared to be pondering on her extraordinary remark. "But, as to the fact," urged he at last, "how can you guess out any such state of things as you describe?"