The farmer was hoisted in by the united efforts of Pierrotin and the porter, to cries of "Houp la! hi! ha! hoist!" uttered by Georges. "Oh! I'm not going far; only to La Cave," said the farmer, good-humoredly. In France everybody takes a joke. "Take the back seat," said Pierrotin, "there'll be six of you." "Where's your other horse?" demanded Georges. "Is it as mythical as the third post-horse." "There she is," said Pierrotin, pointing to the little mare, who was coming along alone. "He calls that insect a horse!" exclaimed Georges. "Oh! she's good, that little mare," said the farmer, who by this time was seated. "Your servant, gentlemen. Well, Pierrotin, how soon do you start?" "I have two travellers in there after a cup of coffee," replied Pierrotin. The hollow-cheeked young man and his page reappeared. "Come, let's start!" was the general cry. "We are going to start," replied Pierrotin. "Now, then, make ready," he said to the porter, who began thereupon to take away the stones which stopped the wheels. Pierrotin took Rougeot by the bridle and gave that guttural cry, "Ket, ket!" to tell the two animals to collect their energy; on which, though evidently stiff, they pulled the coach to the door of the Lion d'Argent. After which manoeuvre, which was purely preparatory, Pierrotin gazed up the rue d'Enghien and then disappeared, leaving the coach in charge of the porter. "Ah ca! is he subject to such attacks,--that master of yours?" said Mistigris, addressing the porter. "He has gone to fetch his feed from the stable," replied the porter, well versed in all the usual tricks to keep passengers quiet. "Well, after all," said Mistigris, "'art is long, but life is short' --to Bichette." At this particular epoch, a fancy for mutilating or transposing