It is not wise, however, for avaricious foreigners to trade upon our simplicity, for there is always a chance that they may catch a Tartar. Never have I seen a more ingenuous youth (in appearance) than one who travelled with me one night from Geneva to Paris. His unbroken ignorance of Continental ways, which opposed (successfully) the introduction of more than four persons into our second; his impenetrable stupidity, which at last saved him from the Customs; his unparalleled atrocities on the French language, seemed to precede him on the line and suggest opportunities of brigandage. They charged him eighteen francs for his supper at a place where we stopped for nearly twenty minutes, and would likely have appropriated the remaining two francs out of the Napoleon he offered, but the bell sounded, and he bolted, forgetting in his nervousness that he had not paid. The garçon followed, whom he failed to understand, and three officials could not make the matter plainer. When the public meeting outside our door reached its height there were present the station-master, seven minor officials, two gendarmes in great glory, a deputation of four persons from the buffet, an interpreter whose English was miraculous, and a fringe of loafers. Just as the police were about to do their duty our fellow passenger condescended on French--he had preferred English words with foreign terminations up to that point. His speech could not have exceeded three minutes, but it left nothing to be desired. It contained a succinct statement of facts--what he had eaten, and how much each dish cost; what he was charged, and the exact difference between the debt and the demand; an appeal to the chef de gare to investigate the conduct of the buffet where such iniquities were perpetrated on guileless Englishmen; and lastly a fancy sketch of the garçon's life, with a selection of Parisian terms of abuse any two of which were enough to confer distinction for a lifetime. He concluded by offering three francs, forty-five cents, as his just due to the manager of the buffet, and his thanks to the audience for their courteous attention. “I am an Englishman by birth,” he explained to a delighted compartment, “but Parisian by education, and I think this incident may do good.” Certainly it has often done one man good, and goes excellently with another where imagination reinforces memory with happy effect. One had a presentiment something was going to happen when two devout ladies secured their places in the Paris express at Lourdes, and before they entered placed the tin vessel with water from the sacred well on the floor of the compartment. It was certainly unfortunate that they did not keep it in their arms till the precious treasure could be deposited in the rack. Lourdes pilgrims would recognize the vessel even in its state of temporary humiliation, but there was a distinct suggestion of humbler uses, and an excited Englishman must not be hardly judged.