"Quite sorry, my good friend, there should have been any misunderstanding between us," observed the woollen-draper. " "Now for it!—life or death!" exclaimed Jack, assuming the gait of a female, and stepping towards the door. A little inn flying a Swiss flag nestles under a great rock, and there they put aside their knapsacks and lunched and rested in the mid-day shadow of the gorge and the scent of resin. ‘Ah, bah, it is enough,’ she cried, and turning, ran out of the room. On reflection, it occurred to him that he might, perhaps, be able to loosen the iron fillet; a notion no sooner conceived than executed. He kept that, but the rest. F. His was the Latin turn of thinking; he had fallen in love at thirteen, and he was still capable—he prided himself—of falling in love. “Of course,” she said diffidently, “this is a boarding-house, although we never take in promiscuous travellers.
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