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168 OUR FRONTISPIECE.

brass sconces that had caught my fancy. I was wander-
ing round the shop, glad of an excuse for studying its
contents, which varied from antique curiosities to modern
knicknacks, when the door was darkened by a tall figure,
and Von Reimer strode in.

“Ts that table still unsold?” he asked, in his deep
voice. The Hauptmann’s French was peculiarly charac-
teristic of him. Most men—perhaps I should say, most
Englishmen—however bad their grammar, aspire to catch
something of the French manner, and have one or two
pet phrases that they run off with an air and a grace.
Reimer’s French, on the contrary, was very grammatical,
very well pronounced, and perfectly expressionless; the
words seemed to be slowly pumped up from the bottom
of his chest, and came out in a quiet impassive tone
which conveyed not the slightest idea of his feelings.
The shopkeeper was a study in his mixture of empresse-
ment and reverential awe, as he hastened to fetch the
article in question, upon which, to judge by his first
inquiry, the Hauptmann had been ruminating for some
time. At first I verily took it to be a cigar-case, but it
shook out, and gradually unfolded itself into the most
gimerack, useless, and fragile little white-and-gilt lady’s
work-table that ever was seen.

It was at this juncture that the German became
aware of my presence, which he slightly acknowledged,
and which seemed to have a disquieting effect upon him.
He looked, in fact, as if he might have blushed, if sun
and wind had not burnt him into a colour which rendered
that process impossible, or at any rate invisible.

“ C'est gentil, ea,” mildly observed the shopkeeper, as
he displayed the little table. The poor man was evidently
torn asunder between his awe of the Hauptmann and
his desire to bring him to the point, which did not seem
likely to be done in a hurry. The remark being an
unnecessary one, Von Reimer deigned no reply to it, but
studied the table, which he prudently did not venture to
touch, for fear it should come to pieces in his fingers,
with eyes that began to soften into an expression of
satisfaction, as if he felt he had really hit upon the right
thing. I had never seen him look so benignant before.
At last he made up his mind to haye it, and with many
injunctions that it was to be carefully packed up, as it
was to travel, he left the shop, and stalked down the
street, with the air of a man who has got a heavy respon-
sibility off his mind. I confess I pitied the fair recipient
of Von Reimer’s present—for a present it evidently was,
from the extreme seriousness of his manner—as what
possible use she could make of it passed my wits. But I
had already remarked that, like many men of gigantic
mould, he believed in the excessive fragility and delicacy
of young ladies, and doubtless he therefore conceived that
every thing about them should be equally fragile and
delicate. For example, he had been horror-struck at the
weight of Fanny’s favourite sketching-bag, which was a
kind of havresack with a shoulder-strap, much like what
the men of his own regiment wore, and which, when full,
was undeniably not a trifle to carry. But Fanny was a
hardy English girl, who could walk any distance, and do
any thing she chose, and she had only been placidly
amused at the Hauptmann’s solicitude for her.

Time passed on, I came back to London, and Otto von
Reimer, and Fanny Fortescue, and Rongy le Chateau all
faded from my mind together, or, if I thought of them at
all, it was only to smile at the incongruity of the three

objects thus connected in my memory. But one day I
went to the Royal Academy, and who should I meet but.
my old friends of the “ Poire d’Argent.” Mrs. Fortescue:
was in the very highest feather, all sparkle, fuss, and
flutter, while Fanny had lost her shyness, and was beam-
ing with a calm happiness that was pretty to see. Some-
thing had certainly improved her, and given her, not
indeed the preternatural vivacity of her mother, but ease
and self-possession, and, in short, all that had been lack-
ing to make her a very attractive girl.

“Yes, dear Mr. Madder,” whispered Mrs. Fortescue,
driving me into a corner, and putting on her confidential
air. ‘Fanny is engaged to the Hauptmann von Reimer
—we are all so pleased—they are to be married as soon
as he can get back to Berlin, and he has a castle and I
do not know how many quarterings to his arms. He is.
most devoted to her—writes constantly ; in German, you
know—very lucky she had such a good German master
when she was a child.” r

Here she took breath, and went off again, “ Most
romantic affair altogether—began at Roney—you knoy,
where you were of so much use to us; so really my
sprained ankle, though it gave me horrid pain, and I still
feel it weak at times, was a most fortunate occurrence.
Then after he went away, he sent her a present—lovely
little work-table, only unluckily it was so delicate, it broke
in coming—of course we never mentioned that to him;
and so gradually they came to understand each other’s
sentiments. He is quite a hero, too, and has got the Iron
Cross, but Fanny can tell you about that better than I
ean. Don’t you think the dear child looks very well?”

She did look very well, and I gratified Mrs. Fortescue:
by telling. her that Hauptmann von Reimer was a lucky
man. But I thought the luck was not on his side alone,
and that dear little Fanny will be much happier with her
quiet German hero than with her excitable mother.

OUR FRONTISPIECE.

esq “Gentleman who pays the Rent”
#/ seems less disturbed about it than many
who have to meet the demands of the land-
lord on quarter-day. Perhaps we may per-
ceive an indication of a latent frown upon
Mr. Piggy’s brow, as if some suspicions of the prospect
had crossed his mind. But I suspect the wrinkle we
observe is simply muscular, and attributable rather to the
hardness of a turnip than to the anticipation of the fatal
share he will have in meeting his owner’s debt. With
what different feelings quarter-day affects the owner and
the pig! True, the owner, though he now smiles, will
be sorry to lose the pig, and would rather he should pass.
into pork for himself than for his landlord. Still, it isa
severer trial for piggy-wiggy to pay the debt of nature
too, when he pays his master’s. This is book-keeping by
double entry with a vengeance!

Let us, however, learn a lesson from him, in this wise.
He not only does his duty by passing into pork, but
teaches us how to pay all dues, inasmuch as he daily adds
to his store of means and value. Little by little he “lays
on” flesh. So if our readers would be ready to meet the
landlord, let them gradually lay by in store, and thus be
taught by “the Gentleman who pays the Rent.”