'Ay, ay, my lad; "what's in a name?" as the divine Williams says: it's nothing, as you remark--just about as much as your purse holds at present. Don't be angry with me; been that way myself. Know Goldsmith?-- '"Ill fares the cove, to hastening duns a prey, Whose bills accumulate and bobs decay." 'Ha, ha!--see the point--Bills and Bobs. But look to the lassie; she's going off again, I fear;' and the queer stranger handed him the brandy-flask in which he had such faith. 'Caroline,' the grisette again murmured, and dropped off with glassy eyes into a tranced sleep, irregularly punctuated with sighs. 'Here you are, sir,' cried the coachman--'_la Belle Jardinière_.' 'Stay where you are,' said the stranger. 'I'll fetch you out a fifty-franc coat; can size you at a glance. Shake up that girl;' and he disappeared rapidly. The girl, fully roused by the sudden stoppage of the vehicle, gazed round her with a lost look, as if to collect her scattered senses, and vainly endeavoured to realize how and why she found herself in a state of exhaustion in a carriage with a strange man. At last, under the influence of O'Hara's kindly reassuring face, she began to recall what had happened. The slab in the Morgue, with its burden, which had robbed her of her senses and strength, rose before her eyes, and she shuddered. 'Courage, my dear,' cried O'Hara firmly; 'drink,' pressing the flask of brandy to her lips; 'you are with friends!' The girl did as desired, and looked her thanks. O'Hara commenced chafing her hands. She smiled faintly, uttered a few gracious words, in which the magic syllable 'home,' a spell in every land, alone could be distinguished. 'Ha! you want to get home, my pretty one; we'll take you,' said the rough yet good-natured stranger, popping in his head at the window. 'What's the neighbourhood?' 'Place du Panthéon,' whispered the girl. 'All right, catch your coat and I'll follow it,' flinging the purchase on O'Hara's lap, then turning to the coachman to give him his directions before entering, he exclaimed, 'Hallo! What's the row?' The coachman either didn't hear him or was so busy with some object at the other side of the carriage, which he was endeavouring to reach with the lash of his whip, that he didn't mind him. 'I'll put a flea in your ear,' and with the expression of this benevolent intention, he jumped on the box, doubled his fist, and was about to apply it to the side of the unconscious Jehu's head, when he suddenly arrested it in its progress, snatched the whip out of the uplifted hand before him instead, and broke into a hearty laugh. O'Hara felt more and more puzzled at the extraordinary conduct of this extraordinary person, and couldn't help looking out after him, when he heard the unexpected merriment. The stranger was descending and encountered his bewildered stare. 'Look out of the other window,' cried he; 'blessed if it ain't that inquisitive dog!'