To-night we leave for Marseilles. Bulging out more in the middle than at the two extremities, it resembled an enormous cask set on its end, —a sort of Heidelberg tun on a large scale,—and this resemblance was increased by the small circular aperture—it hardly deserved to be called a door—pierced, like the bung-hole of a barrell, through the side of the structure, at some distance from the ground, and approached by a flight of wooden steps. Cathy Beck was outraged. E. Can you lend me some stuff?” “You ARE a chap!” said Constance, and warmed only slowly from the idea of dissuasion to the idea of help. She limited herself to eating once a fortnight, until she discovered that she could go without comfortably for a month. Her thoughts were busy with the possibilities of this break in her journey.
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