He condescended to accept one of Gilbert's cigars; and finding it good, he relaxed so far as to vouchsafe a reference from the paper he was still reading, with regard to the state of politics in "Bhoston,"--to which Gilbert replied, alluding in passing to affairs in the West. Thereupon the proprietor woke up sufficiently to put one of his feet to the ground, and proceeded to interrogate him as to where was his home, what was his occupation, why was he travelling in the East, &c. Having received all the particulars which his guest seemed disposed to communicate, his interest subsided again, his leg resumed the horizontal position, his eyes returned to his paper, and his answers to Gilbert's efforts to converse became so brief and indifferent that the latter gave it up, and pored over his own newspaper in silence. The captain of a ship may be an important person on his own deck, but his grandeur is nothing to that of a hotel proprietor when his house is full. He is so accustomed to be spoken fair by guests desiring improved accommodation and eccentric et-ceteras, that he stiffens into an autocrat of the severest type. Gilbert smoked, and read till he grew tired of it, and then he got up and sauntered away. He was becoming a bore unto himself, and longed for other company. On the gallery near the entrance he espied Maida hatted and gloved, awaiting an invitation to walk. She was alone; he had only to signify his wish, and away they strolled along the sands. It was not unpleasant, he found, now that the restlessness of his spirit had been chastened by the proprietor's severe neglect, to be looked up to, made of, and courted. His weed became more fragrant in the freshness of the air and sunshine as they wandered along by the water's-edge. Maida's low eager tones mingled agreeably with the babble of the breakers coming on, curling and retreating respectfully within some inches of his feet, and made him realise once more that he was lord of the creation, and a very fine fellow indeed. Maida's flow of conversation trickled on without intermission. It was wonderful, indeed, how she found so much to say; but the well of happy feeling within yielded a steady flow of purling talk, not deep, perhaps, but clear and cheerful, with opportunities for him to answer if so it pleased him, yet able to babble along pleasantly if he said nothing. She did not talk about herself, which might have grown tedious, nor did she trouble him with questions about his own career. He must tell her of that, she thought, when he chose, though she longed to know. Her thoughts were back in the time when she used to know him, and her talk was reminiscences, touched with the ideal brightness which the days of our youth never assume till after they are fled.