pedlars after all. I never knew a population with so narrow a

range of conjecture as the innkeepers of Pont-sur-Sambre. But
manners and bearing have not a wider currency than bank-notes. You

have only to get far enough out of your beat, and all your
accomplished airs will go for nothing. These Hainaulters could see

no difference between us and the average pedlar. Indeed we had
some grounds for reflection while the steak was getting ready, to

see how perfectly they accepted us at their own valuation, and how
our best politeness and best efforts at entertainment seemed to fit

quite suitably with the character of packmen. At least it seemed a
good account of the profession" target="_blank" title="n.职业；声明；表白">profession in France, that even before such

judges we could not beat them at our own weapons.
At last we were called to table. The two hinds (and one of them

looked sadly worn and white in the face, as though sick with over-
work and under-feeding) supped off a single plate of some sort of

bread-berry, some potatoes in their jackets, a small cup of coffee
sweetened with sugar-candy, and one tumbler of swipes. The

landlady, her son, and the lass aforesaid, took the same. Our meal
was quite a banquet by comparison. We had some beefsteak, not so

tender as it might have been, some of the potatoes, some cheese, an
extra glass of the swipes, and white sugar in our coffee.

You see what it is to be a gentleman - I beg your pardon, what it
is to be a pedlar. It had not before occurred to me that a pedlar

was a great man in a labourer's ale-house; but now that I had to
enact the part for an evening, I found that so it was. He has in

his hedge quarters somewhat the same pre-eminency as the man who
takes a private parlour in an hotel. The more you look into it,

the more infinite are the class distinctions among men; and
possibly, by a happy dispensation, there is no one at all at the

bottom of the scale; no one but can find some superiority over
somebody else, to keep up his pride withal.

We were displeased enough with our fare. Particularly the
CIGARETTE, for I tried to make believe that I was amused with the

adventure, tough beefsteak and all. According to the Lucretian
maxim, our steak should have been flavoured by the look of the

other people's bread-berry. But we did not find it so in practice.
You may have a head-knowledge that other people live more poorly

than yourself, but it is not agreeable - I was going to say, it is
against the etiquette of the universe - to sit at the same table

and pick your own superior diet from among their crusts. I had not
seen such a thing done since the greedy boy at school with his

birthday cake. It was odious enough to witness, I could remember;
and I had never thought to play the part myself. But there again

you see what it is to be a pedlar.
There is no doubt that the poorer classes in our country are much

more charitably disposed than their superiors in wealth. And I
fancy it must arise a great deal from the comparative indistinction

of the easy and the not so easy in these ranks. A workman or a
pedlar cannot shutter himself off from his less comfortable

neighbours. If he treats himself to a luxury, he must do it in the
face of a dozen who cannot. And what should more directly lead to

charitable thoughts? . . . Thus the poor man, camping out in life,
sees it as it is, and knows that every mouthful he puts in his

belly has been wrenched out of the fingers of the hungry.
But at a certain stage of prosperity, as in a balloonascent, the

fortunate person passes through a zone of clouds, and sublunary
matters are thenceforward hidden from his view. He sees nothing

but the heavenly bodies, all in admirable order, and positively" target="_blank" title="ad.确实；断然；绝对">positively as
good as new. He finds himself surrounded in the most touching

manner by the attentions of Providence, and compares himself
involuntarily with the lilies and the skylarks. He does not

precisely sing, of course; but then he looks so unassuming in his
open landau! If all the world dined at one table, this philosophy

would meet with some rude knocks.
PONT-SUR-SAMBRE

THE TRAVELLING MERCHANT
LIKE the lackeys in Moliere's farce, when the true nobleman broke

in on their high life below stairs, we were destined to be
confronted with a real pedlar. To make the lesson still more

poignant for fallen gentlemen like us, he was a pedlar of
infinitely more consideration than the sort of scurvy fellows we

were taken for: like a lion among mice, or a ship of war bearing
down upon two cock-boats. Indeed, he did not deserve the name of

pedlar at all: he was a travelling merchant.
I suppose it was about half-past eight when this worthy, Monsieur

Hector Gilliard of Maubeuge, turned up at the ale-house door in a
tilt cart drawn by a donkey, and cried cheerily on the inhabitants.

He was a lean, nervous flibbertigibbet of a man, with something the
look of an actor, and something the look of a horse-jockey. He had

evidently prospered without any of the favours of education; for he
adhered with stern simplicity to the masculine gender, and in the

course of the evening passed off some fancy futures in a very
florid style of architecture. With him came his wife, a comely

young woman with her hair tied in a yellow kerchief, and their son,
a little fellow of four, in a blouse and military KEPI. It was

notable that the child was many degrees better dressed than either
of the parents. We were informed he was already at a boarding-

school; but the holidays having just commenced, he was off to spend
them with his parents on a cruise. An enchanting holiday

occupation, was it not? to travel all day with father and mother in
the tilt cart full of countless treasures; the green country

rattling by on either side, and the children in all the villages
contemplating him with envy and wonder? It is better fun, during

the holidays, to be the son of a travelling merchant, than son and
heir to the greatest cotton-spinner in creation. And as for being

a reigning prince - indeed I never saw one if it was not Master
Gilliard!

While M. Hector and the son of the house were putting up the
donkey, and getting all the valuables under lock and key, the

landlady warmed up the remains of our beefsteak, and fried the cold
potatoes in slices, and Madame Gilliard set herself to waken the

boy, who had come far that day, and was peevish and dazzled by the
light. He was no sooner awake than he began to prepare himself for

supper by eating galette, unripe pears, and cold potatoes - with,
so far as I could judge, positive benefit to his appetite.

The landlady, fired with motherly emulation, awoke her own little
girl; and the two children were confronted. Master Gilliard looked

at her for a moment, very much as a dog looks at his own reflection
in a mirror before he turns away. He was at that time absorbed in

the galette. His mother seemed crestfallen that he should display
so little inclination towards the other sex; and expressed her

disappointment with some candour and a very proper reference to the
influence of years.

Sure enough a time will come when he will pay more attention to the
girls, and think a great deal less of his mother: let us hope she

will like it as well as she seemed to fancy. But it is odd enough;
the very women who profess most contempt for mankind as a sex, seem

to find even its ugliest particulars rather lively and high-minded
in their own sons.

The little girl looked longer and with more interest, probably
because she was in her own house, while he was a traveller and

accustomed to strange sights. And besides there was no galette in
the case with her.

All the time of supper, there was nothing spoken of but my young
lord. The two parents were both absurdly fond of their child.

Monsieur kept insisting on his sagacity: how he knew all the
children at school by name; and when this utterly failed on trial,

how he was cautious and exact to a strange degree, and if asked
anything, he would sit and think - and think, and if he did not

know it, 'my faith, he wouldn't tell you at all - FOI, IL NE VOUS
LE DIRA PAS': which is certainly a very high degree of caution.

At intervals, M. Hector would appeal to his wife, with his mouth
full of beefsteak, as to the little fellow's age at such or such a