ABOUT BUYING A HORSE. 23 



Restaurant, which is, apparently, the only thoroughly French 

 place remaining in Boulogne. 



Happy Thought. — Go on studying Human Nature while 

 waiting for breakfast. 



Old Gentleman enters. The Dame dii Comptoir cheerfully 

 salutes him, and, politely, the brisk Gargon takes him round 

 the table, where the materials for breakfasts and dinners are 

 temptingly displayed (z>., kidneys in geraniums, chickens in 

 parsley, sausages in nasturtiums, and a real live quail, with 

 chickweed, in a cage like a rat-trap) ; but, in answer to the 

 waiter's list, and after a close inspection with his eyeglasses, 

 he says in English, " Nong, nong, I don't want that, I'm 



looking for " And he continues his search. Lady at 



the counter elevates her eyebrows ; waiter shrugs his 

 shoulders. More Human Nature. Also two more Human 

 Natures, French Boatmen taking raw spirits at a side- 

 table. 



Old Gentleman looks at me appealingly. I catch his eye. 

 He sees in me a fellow countryman, and, as it were, clings 

 to me. 



" I have been asking them," he says, addressing me, plain- 

 tively, " for a bun." 



He must be seventy-three, if a day. 



I inform him that, of all things in the wortcl, he has just 

 hit upon the one thing they haven't got. He thanks me 

 sincerely, and disappears. As I never again see him in 

 Boulogne, I conclude that, either having come to Boulogne 

 for Buns, and, having been bitterly disappointed, he left by 



