In due time the groom arrived. The sub-officia copied faithfully the description of the count's gelding. _Age_--three years and a half. _Height_--fourteen hands. _Hair_--dark sorrel. _Forehead_--spotted with white. _Eyes_--very lively. _Nose_--broad nostrils. _Mouth_--A little hard. _Beard_--none (the count was a veritable Turk). _Complexion_--none. _Private marks_--ears very long; small star branded on the left thigh. In course of time the count departed, his passport in the guardianship of his accomplished secretary. The frontier officers are not, travelers will remember, either very brilliant men, or very witty men. They have a dull eye for a joke. The count's passport was scrutinized severely; the description did not accord accurately, in the opinion of the _sergent_ of police, with the actual man. The _sergent_ pulled his mustache, looked wise--and put Monsieur le Comte under arrest. The story about the horse was a poor story. The _sergent_ was not to be outwitted in that fashion. The consequence was a detention under guard for four days, until the necessary explanations could be returned from Paris, and the _sergent_ be fully persuaded that the description attached to the count's horse, and not to some dangerous political refugee. * * * * * Under the head of "Touching Matrimonial Confidence," a French provincial paper gives the following: A certain Gazette of Auvergne published, a few days since, this notice (not unknown to our newspaper annals): "No person will give credit to the woman Ursula-Veronica-Anastasia-Cunegonde Piot--my wife, as I shall pay no debts of her contracting." The same Gazette published, a few days after, the following rejoinder (which we commend to all wives similarly situated): "Monsieur Jerome Barnabas, my husband, could have spared himself the trouble of his late notice. "It is not to be supposed that I could get credit on his account; for, since he pays no debts of his own, nobody would count on him to pay any debts of mine. "FEMME BARNABAS--NEE PIOT." We should not be greatly surprised if the precedent here afforded, should lead to a new column of city advertisements. * * * * * _Apropos_ of the late balls in Paris, a very good story is told of a bouncing student at law (with rooms and _ménage_ in the quarter of the Pantheon), who recently made his _débût_, under the auspices of his father, at a ball of the Chaussée d'Antin. His father, a stout provincial, but bolstered into importance by a fat vineyard, and wine cellars to match, insisted upon introducing his son to the high life of the capital. The son declined, urging that he did not dance (the truth being that his familiarity was only with the exceptional dances of the _Chaumière_ and such grisette quarters). "_Mon Dieu_--not dance!" said the old gentleman.