those brilliant young ladies especially figure and move in accordingly, And, certainly, you will have no cause for complaint on the score of lack of courtesy or assumption of aristocratic exclusiveness. That pervades everything. The arrangements are as elegant as a dish of trifle or blanc mange--and as unsatisfactory. Your chamber-in which you are requested 'not to wash wide,' to smoke, or to rub matches against the walls—is very neat and cleanly, and pretty well furnished, but the three chairs are of such brittle construction, that you would as soon think of sitting upon them as upon spun-glass, and instinctively speculate as to what you'll have to pay for breakage. But had you as many hands as Briareus, and wanted to wash them every half-hour, you couldn't be better supplied with towels. There are also dainty little bits of crochet-work under the soap-dish, and tumblers, and a big china slop-jar-we don't know the French equivalent, or wouldn't horrify the reader by using such a vulgar word. The bed is small and snow-white-like a snow-drift on a child's grave. In winter it has fewer blankets on than is desirable. | one P.M., and dinner at six. This meal invariably comprises five courses, commencing with thin, whity-brown soup, and concluding with dessert, of which watermelons form the staple in summer, and frosted apples in winter. The ladies now appear in very full-dress, and are fragrant with eau de Cologne, frangipane, jockeyclub, or otto of roses; while the more magnificently-got-up gentlemen sport lace shirt-fronts and wristlets, resembling the ornamental paper one sees on French plum-boxes. As at breakfast, the meal is seasoned by much animated conversation, the ladies doing their full share. All carving is performed at a side-table by a darkey of butler-like aspect, who produces remarkably small, thin slices, which are conveyed to your left side by the coloured boy. If you are at all absent-minded, or not specially intent upon your plate, it (with the contents) is very apt to be whisked away by the last-mentioned youth, in obedience to strict, but privately-issued, instructions. And, considering the fascinations of the young ladies, there is great risk of this. We have seen no less than three successive plates reft from a hungry boarder, who lacked moral courage to remonstrate. He went out subsequently, and had a porterhouse steak at a restaurant. Entrées, side-dishes, and French cookery in general preponderate over joints, but there are plenty of artificial flowers and iced-water. The pastry is of the lightest consistency and most delicate construction, and you are helped to bits shaped like an attenuated triangle. A cup or two of green and very weak tea, served in the adjoining parlour, after the lapse of half-an-hour, concludes the repast. You are not rung to meals by a bell, as in vulgar Boarding-houses. The coloured boy taps at your door at nine A.M., and deferentially informs you that breakfast is ready. On descending, you find the gentleman-boarders in dressing-gowns with ropes like bell-pulls, and the ladies in elegant robes-de-chambre, with artful contrivances of lace about their heads and busts. Severally, they accord you a gracious good-morning as you glide to the seat which Madame's gesture indicates, remove your napkin from its ring, and spread it over your knees in preparation. The boarders, like the establishment, The ladies are very lively and chatty, es- are eminently genteel. At the time of pecially the younger one-so much so, our sojourn, they were very much as folindeed, that a cynic might suspect the lows: two superannuated bank clerks, a existence of a design to keep the boarders' stock-broker, three or four Cubans, an old jaws otherwise employed than on the major who had been in the Canadian breakfast, which is light, tasty, and un- army, a fast young Southerner from South substantial. There are very small mut- Carolina, a London architect, and a crocton-chops, patés, nick-nacks, and French❘ kery and china merchant. This last was bread and coffee-made also á la Fran- an obliging individual, very much alive to çaise. Each dish is extinguished under the inferiority of his social position, and a gorgeous cover of German silver, with the privilege of being admitted to such which material the table is generally re- aristocratic society. He received the ralsplendent. You can read the papers, if lyings of the young ladies and their playyou like, during the progress of the meal, ful allusions to the shop' with much and that without being thought ill-bred. humility and good-humour, and we susLunch, consisting of pie, delicate shav-pect him of secretly admiring one of them. ings of cold meat, and coffee, is served at Madame made him useful in many ways. When it became desirable to snub any boarder, he (the crockery merchant) was put into the position of the offender, after the flogging-boy system once pursued in the education of young princes, by which they took their flagellations by deputy. As witness the following instance. The Cubans would smoke in their chambers, disregarding the injunction that confined that indulgence to a balcony in the rear of the dining-room. So Mr- to whom the slightest whiff of tobacco was productive of great intestinal discommotion, was severely cautioned 'not to do that again,' and informed that, if he must have his horrid cigars, he'd better smoke 'em at the store down town. Each of the young ladies has her part, and admirably does she play up to it. The elder, who is one-and-twenty, affects the sentimental and literary, occasionally flavouring it by a dash of piety. She admires Longfellow, Holmes, and Tupper, and looks upon Willis as a fallen angel. The younger (who is about eighteen) aspires to the character of a fast young lady, is particularly fond of dancing, thinks sleighing 'first-rate fun,' and adores Mr Wallack Lester (which amiable weakness, by the by, is not uncommon with up-town young ladies). She aims, too, at smartness in conversation, and brilliancy of repartee, principally at the expense of weakminded or unguarded persons, for whom she sets little pitfalls-as thus. You hear her assert strong distaste for some book, tune, fashion, &c.- being the very reverse of former professions. You inno- | cently express surprise, commencing with the fatal words, 'I thought ' When Miss immediately breaks in upon the sentence, exclaiming, with great vivacity, 'Oh, Mr. it don't do always to trust one's thoughts! I thought at first you were very clever and amusing-and you are not!' Upon which you are supposed to be crushed for the rest of the evening. This lady's fascinations are brought to bear on the younger of the bachelor boarders, and two of the Cubans are desperately in love with her. Her sister devotes herself to the seniors, and we incline to the supposition that she will, in the long run-after she has sufficiently humiliated him-marry the crockery merchant. Both the young ladies and their mother come out in great force in the evenings. She does not pretend to music, but they both play and sing, after due solicitation. Conversation turns mostly on the newest novel, fashion, or marriage, and THE OPERA. There is also another topic next door. Madame has a standing feud with one of her neighbours, who attempts to depreciate her as the keeper of a Boarding-house. She will 'reckon up' their origin for you with dreadful exactness, and designates them as low, stuck-up people. With respect to her position in life, she feelingly hints that undeserved misfortunes have reduced her to it, and says that but for the dear girls she shouldn't have thought of surviving the death of her husband. The reader will have noticed that in our enumeration of the various boarders no ladies appear. Madame always avoids admitting such, unless old. This, we think, will be found to be invariably the case in all establishments where there are unmarried daughters, and for double reasons. In the first place, it is desirable to avoid risk of counter attractions, in the second place, ladies are apt to observe each other too much and too closely. The many little dodges which to the thick sight of man are invisible, lie quite open to the quick eye of woman. Yet we do recollect a lady boarder, too. But she was old, rich, and had a son, whom the younger daughter did especially favour. He, a mild youth, addicted to playing on the flute, used to collect the rents of various tenement houses owned by his mother (and sometimes came home with black eyes in consequence). This lady and her son may, with one of the elderly stock-brokers, have claimed the title of Pet-Boarders. He was a fussy old boy of sixty, accustomed to diluting editorials, and delivering them in an oracular manner, as his opinions over the dinner-table. His linen was very particularly cared for, and the young ladies marked his shirts and pocket-handkerchiefs with their own fair hands. During the summer season, the blinds in the front of the house are kept scrupulously closed, and everything done to give it an out-of-town' look. If the ladies stir abroad, it is at early morning, or late at night, and then so limp in figure and disguised in aspect, that you would scarcely recognise them. But, for the most part, they confine themselves to back rooms, Madame even discarding the basement, which is her place of business, where tradespeople wait upon her, have their bills severely scrutinised, and occasionally are brought up sharp about overcharges. The boarders' payments are monthly. You find a small billet, in a delicate envelope, directed in an angular Italian hand, stuck in the looking-glass, and containing your bill-always on the morning before it is due. And, if a week elapse without payment, you discover a remarkable change in the demeanour of the young ladies toward you. They will become quite cool, absolutely Arctic. Madame is not accustomed to admitting arrears. She tells the crockery merchant that she never has boarders who don't pay punctually. If you would develop her displeasure still further, only spill a cup of coffee on the clean tablecloth. A balls celebrates each anniversary of the opening of her establishment, when there is a great display of dancing, lemonade, candies, bon-bons, ginger-wine, and artificial flowers. Most of the ladies invited are ugly, and 'dear friends' of her daughters. They are recommended to you with charming cordiality, as most excellent, intellectual girls. (And, by the way, we never knew an ugly woman who was not excellent, or intellectual.) On these occasions the arbiter of fashion, the janitor of upper tendom-in a word, the great BROWN is in the ascendant. He is a friend of Madame's. And thus, in her glory, we leave her. AN ECHO HUNT. waiter. That functionary having made his appearance, the stout gentleman' put a variety of questions to him as to what he could get to eat. The waiter enumerated a great many savoury dishes, but none of them seemed to suit the taste of the great man. After musing a little, he said, 'Have you no kidneys in the house? I should like to have a dish of kidneys.' The waiter said a dish of kidneys could be got ready in a very short time. This information seemed greatly to delight the gentleman, who stroked his chin in a very pleasant manner; while, at the same time, he gave the waiter directions concerning the kidneys. They were to be fried with butter, and plenty of pepper and onions. The onions he particularly insisted upon. They seemed to be uppermost in his mind; for the waiter had scarcely gone a few steps from the table, when he called after him, in a deep sonorous voice, 'Mind the onions.' a In a short time the waiter reappeared, and placed before the gentleman a capacious plate of kidneys well seasoned with onions, the strong odour of which filled the room. He looked apparently much satisfied with the prospect of his good cheer, and immediately began to help himself with great zest. I never saw a man eat so fast. He must have been either very hungry, or in a great hurry. MANY years ago, I happened to spend a few days in the town of Montrose. On the third day, having got all the business which led me to the town settled, I hastened home to the Star Hotel, where I had fixed my temporary domicile. Being anxious to get as soon as possible to Arbroath, I inquired of mine host of the Star if there was any conveyance by which I could get there that evening. He informed me there was not-the Arbroath coach having started two hours before. There was therefore no alternative but patiently to wait till four o'clock on the following day, that being the hour when the coach started for Arbroath. Having walked a good deal about the town, I felt considerably fatigued. In order, therefore, to recruit my wasted energies, I adopted the usual prescription in such cases, by ordering dinner. This was soon placed before me, 'piping hot,' as the phrase goes. Having discussed the good cheer, I next proceeded to compound tumbler of rum-punch. While I was engaged in concocting my potation, a stout military-looking man, with bushy whiskers, and a black silk patch over one of his eyes, entered the room, and seated himself at a table to my right. After he had glanced at a newspaper for five or six minutes, he threw it down, and began calling in a most stentorian voice for the The whole of the eatables disappeared before you could have pronounced the name of that popular person commonly called 'Jack Robison. Ere the worthy gentleman had got his last morsel well masticated, he began to exhibit symptoms of extreme uneasiness, and commenced pulling the bell with great violence. In a twinkling the knight of the towel stood before the man with the patch on his eye. 'A glass of brandy-and-water, waiter,' cried the latter. Yes, sir,' replied the former. In a minute the brandy-andwater were on the table. In less time they disappeared. After a brief space, the stout gentleman again began to pull at the bell with great vehemence. The waiter appeared; the same demand was made, and as speedily supplied; and, I may add, the potation was as speedily quaffed. While I sat quietly sipping my rumpunch, gazing at this devourer of kidneys and swiller of brandy-and-water, and marvelling within myself what manner of man he was, and what might be his craft or calling, I was quickly aroused from my cogitations by the gentleman suddenly starting up, and asking if any gentleman present wished to go to Arbroath that night, as he required to go, and would be very happy if any one would take the half of a gig with him. This was just the very thing I wanted. I therefore immediately rose up, and said that I should be happy to do so, as I was very anxious to get forward to Arbroath that night. The necessary orders were given, and in a short time the gig was standing at the door ready to receive us. The great man having cffered to act as charioteer, he ascended whip in hand. I was soon seated by his side, and in a few minutes we were trundling along the Arbroath road at a good smart pace. 'I presume,' said my companion, turning round, and giving me a keen look, 'that you belong to Glasgow?' Like a true Scotchman, instead of answering his question, I asked him one: 'How do you come to think I belong to Glasgow? I don't think I smell particularly strong of cotton.' 'No,' replied my friend, looking at me with a very waggish expression, 'but you smell a little of rum-punch though.' "That may be,' said I, joining in the laugh in which he was indulging, 'but many besides the natives of St Mungo are partial to rum-punch. I know some of the inhabitants of Auld Reekie who take pretty stiff doses of rum-punch occasionally.' Oh, then you belong to the metropolis, or Modern Athens, as they call it ?' said he. 'No,' cried I, 'you are wrong again; but I did live there for many years.' 'You did,' said my fellow-traveller, repeating my words; then added, 'you will, of course, know all about Edinburgh. It's a fine city, no doubt, but not at all comparable to Glasgow.' 'Not in point of size, certainly,' I said; but in point of society and situation, Edinburgh is certainly superior. As to scenery, what can surpass Arthur's Seat and Salisbury Crags, and St Anthony's Chapel? And then there is the Echoing Rock, not perhaps in itself a scene of great beauty, but from which 'Pooh, pooh,' cried my friend, in a most contemptuous manner, 'Edinburgh's a mere city of quill-drivers; and as for the echo that you talk about, it's the most pitiful, paltry echo I ever heard. Heard it, did I say? why, I never heard it-nor anybody else, I suppose. It's all humbug, sir; it's no echo at all. But talking of echoes, there's an echo in this road somewhere, which beats the Edinburgh echo, and all the rest of the echoes in Scotland hollow.' 'I cannot say,' replied I, 'that I ever heard of an echo being in this part of the country.' 'Possibly not,' cried my companion, somewhat testily; 'but I can assure you, nevertheless, that there is one; at least there was one six months ago, and I don't see why it should not be here still.' 'But,' said I, 'do you know whereabouts the echo is to be heard?' 'Why, I am somewhat at a loss on that point,' exclaimed my companion, drawing up the horse, and looking keenly about him; 'but if we keep calling out as we go along, we shall be sure to discover its locality.' So saying, he began to bawl out every two or three yards at the top of his voice, 'Ho! ho!' 'Are you here?' 'Where are you?' 'Are you sleeping?' and such like interrogatories. Whether the echo was sleeping or not, it is difficult to say, but it certainly turned a deaf ear to all the questions that were addressed to it. it.' 'Perhaps,' said I, 'we may have passed 'Passed it!' roared my companion, 'not at all; we'll come to it in good time; only have patience; it's really worth your while to hear it. I have heard almost all the echoes of any consequence. The one at Milan I heard some years ago; as also the celebrated one at Paris. The echoes in the rocks in Derbyshire, and that at Roseneath, near Glasgow, and many others, are familiar to me; but the one which I wish to let you hear, is out of all comparison superior to any of them. But,' continued my companion, 'this will never do. We must not keep talking thus about echoes. We must make a noise as we go along, aud endeavour to find out the "local habitation" of the echo. You know the echoes are somewhat like ghosts: they will not speak unless they are first spoken to. Again he began to call out lustily as we trundled along, making all sorts of strange and unearthly noises for the purpose of arousing the echo. All this was amusing enough as long as we were by ourselves, but I began rather to feel awkward when we passed people on the road. This, however, did not seem to make the slightest difference to my companion, who continued vociferating at the very top of his voice. Several wayfaring travellers stared at us with astonishment as we passed; and one or two turned round and gazed after us, seemingly rapt in great perplexity to account for our strange procedure. I have no doubt that many of these good people regarded us as either mad, or as somewhat more than 'three sheets in the wind.' My companion, who had kept constantly shouting for a considerable part of the way, began to get tired, and proposed that I should exert my lungs a little. This proposal I did not much relish. I however could not well refuse, so I immediately began to 'aggravate my voice,' and shouted most lustily. Though like Bottom I roared that it would have done any man's heart good to have heard me, it had no effect in rousing the echo. There was no answering voice. Our labour seemed to be altogether in vain. My fellow-traveller and I had bawled almost incessantly for upwards of an hour, all to no purpose. I therefore suggested to him, that it would be as well to ask some person respecting the locality of the echo. To this proposition he assented. In a short time we overtook a decent old man walking leisurely along the road with a staff in his hand, and a little curly-haired dog by his side. 'I say, honest man,' cried my companion, addressing the man with the dog, can you inform us whereabouts the echo is?' At this question, the man stood and stared at us, with a vacant, bewildered look, and drawled out, 'What's your wull?' 'I was wanting you to inform us where the echo is.' 'I'm no that unco gleg at hearin',' replied the man; 'ye maun speak louder.' 'We want you,' cried my companion, raising his voice, 'to tell us whereabouts the echo is. There is a loud echo somewhere on this road, and we wish you to tell us the direction to it. 'Ye're a' wrang,' cried the man; 'Lord Elcho doesna live in this part o' the country ava 'We're not asking you about Lord Elcho,' roared my friend; 'we're wanting to know where the echo is.' 'Where the eagle is!' cried the man, with a perplexed look. 'I never heard o' an cagle bein' hereabouts.' 'The man's an arrant ass,' exclaimed my companion, in a passion. A lass, did ye say?' cried he of the staff, assuming a most stern and orthodox expression of countenance. 'I ken naething about lasses;' and then soliloquising to himself: 'Twa neerdoweels, to stop an honest man like me, an elder in the kirk. to haver about lasses.' As we found it was useless to hold farther conversation with this deaf man, wc again started, my companion and I alternately shouting as we whirled along. Shortly after leaving the elder, we overtook a woman with a pig in a sack, which she carried slung over her shoulder. The noise which we made caused her to turn suddenly round, to see what was the matter. The abrupt movement no doubt threw the poor pig into some painful position, for it immediately began to squeak most dolorously. 'My good woman,' said I, 'can you inform us whether we are near the echo?' 'I canna hear what you say for that beast,' replied the woman, giving the unfortunate pig, as she spoke, a hearty blow with her fist. This, of course, by no means improved the temper of the animal, which squeaked more violently than ever. 'I want you to tell us where the echo is,' cried I. 'I dinna think there's onybody o' that |