Stratton was terrified as he thought of the loss of the day exhibition; and he cursed the boy, the cart, the rain, the luck, and even the battle of Waterloo itself. But it was all of no use, the horse would not run, but the rain did--down our backs. At two o’clock, the time appointed for our exhibition, we were yet some seven miles from Brussels. The horse walked slowly and philosophically through the pitiless storm, the steam majestically rising from the old manure-cart, to the no small disturbance of our unfortunate olfactories. “It will take two hours to get to Brussels at this rate,” growled Stratton. “Oh, no,” replied the boy, “it will only take about two hours from the time we started.” “But your father agreed to get us there in an hour,” answered Stratton. “I know it,” responded the boy, “but he knew it would take more than two.” “I’ll sue him for damage, by thunder,” said Stratton. “Oh, there would be no use in that,” chimed in Mr. Pinte, “for you could get no satisfaction in this country.” “But I shall lose more than a hundred dollars by being two hours instead of one,” said Stratton. “They care nothing about that; all they care for is your eighty francs,” remarked Pinte. “But they have lied and swindled me,” replied Stratton. “Oh, you must not mind that, it is the custom of the country.” Stratton gave “the country,” and its “customs,” another cursing. All things will finally have an end, and our party did at length actually arrive in Brussels, cart and all, in precisely two hours and a half from the time we left the farmers house. Of course we were too late to exhibit the little General. Hundreds of visitors had gone away disappointed. With feelings of utter desperation, Stratton started for a barber’s shop. He had a fine, black, bushy head of hair, of which he was a little proud, and every morning he submitted it to the curling-tongs of the barber. His hair had not been cut for several weeks, and after being shaved, he desired the barber to trim his flowing locks a little. The barber clipped off the ends of the hair, and asked Stratton if that was sufficient. “No,” he replied, “I want it trimmed a little shorter; cut away, and I will tell you when to stop.”