THE WAY-BILL. 5 



fate that awaited both him and me, leaning 

 with his head upon his hand, inert and 

 heedless, as most men are who have no- 

 thing to do this was the porter. On the 

 other side of the counter, behind an old 

 worm-eaten desk, sat the book-keeper. The 

 usual salutation having passed between us, 

 I took from the desk a long sheet of white 

 paper, which, with the exception of the 

 heading, was unsullied not the name of a 

 passenger or parcel was written thereon ! 

 This was what is technically called the 

 "way-bill." With a complacency I could 

 sometimes assume, I read the date aloud, 

 adding thereto that it was a most remark- 

 able day. 



"Remarkable, Mr. C , for what?' 



said my inquisitive friend, the book-keeper. 



"Remarkable, Mr. B ," I repeated, 



"for its being the natal day, or, more properly 

 speaking, the anniversary of the birth of 

 three celebrated men." 



" Indeed ! Pray, who were they? " 



