dressed Mike whispered to me, 'Put it on the bills that the Zulu Chief lost the finger by a English saber, at the battle of--where was the battle?' I hev Foggarty yet, but Biddy broke his heart and he aint as good as he was. She run away with the cannibal from the Friendly Islands, who cood do the tight-rope and fire-eatin', and they are doin' hall shows and the variety business together. He taught her to do a song and dance, as well as fire-eatin', and she is now 'M'lle Lulu Delmayne.' They do society sketches, too. Foggarty is jest as willin' as ever, but the blow was too much for him. He goes with us next season as a Zulu, and also lecters the sacred Burmese cattle, and has a part in the wild perarie scene, and fires the calliope. He can't do Washington any more, for he has rheumatiz, and can't stand an hour with his right hand in a military coat. He's practisin' to be a lion tamer, but I don't bleeve it'll do. He may git to play the snake, but that is about as high as he'll ever git in the perfesh." [Illustration: THE LOST FINGER.] The next day the old gentleman departed for the continent. CHAPTER XV. RICHMOND. Four weeks in London! Twenty-eight days of incessant sight-seeing. A series of continual surprises day after day, from early in the morning until late at night; a constant succession of new things of interest crowded and forced upon one, until at length the senses weary, the mind refuses to take in any more, and imperatively cries out for a change, for rest. The body is exhausted. The dull, dense atmosphere is enervating. A night's sleep gives no refreshment. One rises in the morning by sheer force of will power, with a feeling that it would be a delight, pure and simple, to go back to bed and sleep five or six hours longer, and when he does finally dress and go out on the street, he has no more ambition, nor inclination to do anything, or go anywhere, or see anything, than as if there were nothing to do, nowhere to go, nor anything to see. But that is what he is here for, and from force of habit he goes on the everlasting treadmill of sight-seeing, until the very name of London is odious, and its never-ending throng of people, hurrying along in the pursuit of pleasure or business, that, at first, was such a novel and interesting study, becomes distasteful to a degree, and he wishes he were home again or in some vast wilderness, or--anywhere, away from the narrow, crowded streets of high wall, and old-fashioned buildings, that stifle all his energies and tire his very nature.