and gave rise to the growth of pleasant feeling
between the benefited and the benefactors.

It was in 1855 that my agent, longing like
Alexander for fresh worlds to conquer, bethought
him that the Paris Exhibition, then being held,
would probably prove attractive to excursionists,
and thither he organised a trip, which provided
for a visit to Paris, thence proceeded through
France to Strasburg, and returned home down
the Rhine. So successful was this experiment,
that ever since he has repeated it annually, but,
as he expressed himself, he "was never able to
feel his way" to Switzerland till last year, when,
in person, he conducted three parties (one of
them three hundred strong) from England to
Geneva. My agent's tickets for an excursion
from London to Geneva cost, first class six
guineas, second class four pounds twelve
shillings and sixpence; they are available for
twenty-eight days, and allow of the journey
being broken at Rouen, Paris, Fontainebleau,
Dijon, Maçon, and all the principal towns in
Switzerland. Supplemental tickets are issued
in Switzerland at twenty per cent under the
usual prices, and nearly all the excursionists
visit Chamounix. There are three regular
Swiss trips in the course of the year, one at
Whitsuntide ("not a good time," said my
agent, in reply to my elevated eyebrows, "but
it is merely an extension of my annual
excursion to Paris"), one in the first week of July
—the largest and best, principally on account
of its being vacation-time in the schools, and my
agent's excursion being much favoured by
ushers and governesses—and one in September.
On all these occasions my agent takes charge of
and acts as guide, philosopher, and friend to the
party. I suggested that his knowledge of
foreign languages must be severely taxed.
Then he smiled, and told me that was provided
for by his knowing nothing but English; but
that mattered little, as there was always one of
his party at his elbow to explain what he
suggested. His hotel arrangements are all
made beforehand; in every principal town in
Switzerland he has one regular hotel, with
fixed prices, eight to nine francs a day for
everything, attendance included, "And the best
hotels too, mind you," said he, emphatically,
"the best hotels such as the Royal, at
Chamounix."

Emboldened by his success, my agent confided
to me his idea of, during the following summer,
enabling English excursionists to see for
themselves what it is that the Romans really do, and
which we are all expected to emulate while we
are temporary denizens of the Eternal City. In
plain words, he purposes taking two special
parties to Italy, one in July and one in
September, over one of the Alpine passes, Mont
Cenis, St. Gothard, or the Splugen, through the
lake district to Como and Milan, with the option
of running on to Turin, Florence, Venice, and
Rome itself! He is led to expect a very large
concession from the Italian railways, and has his
plans pretty nearly matured.

Now surely this kind of thing is a good kind
of thing, and ought to be encouraged. It is
right that a hard-working man, labouring in one
spot for fifty weeks in the year, should, in his
fortnight's holiday, betake himself to someplace
as far away from and as different to his ordinary
abode as lies within the reach of his purse, and
this he is only able to do by the aid of such
providers as my excursion agent. And each
year should, if possible, be spent, in a different
locality. Ramsgate and Margate are good, and
fresh, and wholesome; and Southend, though it
would be improved if its pier were a little shorter,
and its water a little salter, is good too; but as
even perpetual partridge palled upon the epicure,
so does a constant recurrence to one sea-side
place pall upon the holiday seeker. In the
excursion train he can fly to fresh fields and new
pastures; he can see the glorious English
cathedrals, the grey Highlands, the quaint
Belgian cities, the castled Rhine crags, the
glaciers, mountains, and waterfalls of Switzerland,
and perhaps the blue plains of Italy, for
comparatively a very trifling sum; and these
seen, he will return with a fresh zest for his
home and for his work, and a fresh appreciation
for all that is beautiful in nature or great in
history.

If these, then, be, as I fancy they are, some
of the results of the work of my excursion
agent—work in itself requiring clearness of
intellect, and honesty and stability of purpose—I
think I have a right to claim for him a position,
modest but useful, in that great army of civilisation
which is marching through the world.

A RENT IN A CLOUD.

IN TWENTY-FOUR CHAPTERS.

CHAPTER XI. THE LIFE AT THE VILLA.

THE curtains were undrawn, and the candles
were lighted. All within looked just as he had
so often seen it. The sick girl lay on her sofa,
with her small spaniel at her feet. Miss
Grainger was working at a table, and Emily
sat near her sister, bending over the end of the
sofa, and talking to her. "Let me see that
letter again, Florry," she said, taking a letter
from the passive fingers of the sick girl. "Yes,
he is sure it must have been Calvert. He says,
that though the Swiss papers give the name
Colnart, he is sure it was Calvert, and you
remember his last words here as he went away
that evening?"

"Poor fellow!" said Florence, "I am sure
I have no right to bear him good will, but I am
sorry for him—really sorry. I suppose, by this
time, it is all over?"

"The wound was through the throat, it is
said," said Miss Grainger. "But how confused
the whole story is. Who is Barnard, and why
did Calvert fight to save Barnard's honour?"

"No, aunt. It was to rescue Mr. Graham's,
the man who was about to marry Sophia
Calvert."

"Not at all, Milly. It was Graham who shot