The man was a son of Anak in altitude, somewhat bent by years, but having a soldierlike air. His white hair was combed back, and gathered behind into a thick club: he wore a long greatcoat, which, if made for him, gave testimony to a considerable falling-off in his proportions, for it hung but loosely about him; had a very broad-leaved hat set jauntily on one side of his head; and supported his steps upon a sturdy stick. I saluted this singular-looking pair, and was by the lady honoured with an especially gracious curtsey, whilst the gaunt old man bade me good day in an accent decidedly foreign. I patted the cat of the basket, addressing it in French, and was in a moment overwhelmed by the delights of its mistress, who _ciel_'d, and _mon-Dieu_'d, and _quel-plaisir_'d, until, if her tall _mari_ had not stepped in to the rescue, I do not know to what lengths her delight might not have carried her. The horse was sufficiently rested; the man who drove it was ready to proceed; and the ancient Parisienne, for such she was, had once more to ensconce herself beneath the canvass covering of the waggon, into which I had the honour of assisting herself and her cat, amidst thanks and excuses blended with all the graceful volubility of a well-bred Frenchwoman,--for well-bred she was, beyond a doubt. "My poor little woman!" said the old giant, as, after the twentieth adieu, I joined him where he waited a little in advance of the waggon, and quickened my pace to keep up with his strides,--"she is made too happy for to-day to hear a gentleman address her in her own language, and by whom she can be understood;" adding, "You are not a Frenchman, sir?" "I am not," said I, smiling; "but should imagine you are, by the compliment you so adroitly infer." "No, sir," rejoined mine ancient, "I am a Biscayan; bred a ship-builder, but at present a house-carpenter." "But you speak English like a native: how is that?" inquired I, desirous of continuing the dialogue thus begun. "I have been forty years in this good country, and have made better progress than my poor little woman, though she is well educated and I have no learning to help me." "Madame, then, is not Spanish?" "No, sir, she is of Paris; and, what is very odd, that is nearly all she ever told me of herself. It was in the winter of 1792 that I first met my poor little woman: I had slept within a few miles of Havre, and was just turned away from the cabaret, when a little boy joined me, requesting that I would let him walk with me to the town. We fell into chat, when I discovered that my new friend had no passport, but that he had money, and was desirous to escape from France, no matter to what place. He was in great trouble; cried much; said he had lost all his friends, and begged me not to desert him. "It would be too long a story to tell you all the trouble I had to get him on board ship with me; but, sir, that little boy is now in the waggon where you handed him."