"No," he replies, quickly; "I smoke them rather long. Had him there, eh?" he says playfully, turning to Cousin JANE, who, I regret to say, encourages him with an appreciative smile. After his fit of chuckles has subsided (in which I do not join), he takes off his hat _à la française_, and addresses himself to Cousin JANE. "If Madame does not oppose herself to that I shall smoke." JANE graciously returns, "Oh dear no, I do not mind smoke," which isn't at all what I want her to say on this occasion. PULLER throws away what is left of his cigar, and, producing an enormous case, offers me what he calls "a beauty,"--very big, very dark one, with a bit of red and gold paper wrapped round its middle, as if it were in a delicate state of health and might suffer from rheumatism,--but I decline it, saying pointedly, "I can't stand smoking so early, and before breakfast." "Oh," he returns in an offhand manner, "can't you? I can smoke any time, it doesn't affect _me_. Besides, I had a first-rate breakfast at the fork, and spoon too, at the buffet,"--he pronounces this word as written in English--this is his fun (i.e.__, the fun of a high-spirited Solicitor on a holiday), and forthwith he lights the big cigar, changes his seat so as to face us both, and then commences a conversation about all sorts of things, seasoned with his jokes and comic French, at which he laughs himself uproariously, and appeals to me to know if it, whatever the joke may be, "Wasn't bad, was it?" And when I beg him to spare some of his witticisms, as he'll want them for the friends he's going to meet at Royat--(thank Heaven, he _is_ going to meet friends!)--he only says, "Oh, there's lots more where these came from," and off he goes again. Fortunately he turns to Cousin JANE, and instantly I close my eyes, and pretend to be overcome by fatigue. If JANE is wise she will do the same. JANE is tired, but tolerant.