But invalids musn’t be choosers, and if RUSTEM ROOSE sends you to Aix-la-Chapelle—­he’s always sending somebody somewhere—­to la-Chapelle you must carry your Aix, in the hope that you may leave them there.

“I wonder,” said the Member for SARK, who as usual is grumbling round, “if the local female population was less unlovely in CHARLEMAGNE’s time?  Probably, since he married with a frequency not excelled by our HENRY VIII.  But what was HILDEGARDE like—­HILDEGARDE, his favourite spouse?  If she in any way resembled the women who throng the streets of Aix-la-Chapelle to-day, C.’s lot was not a happy one.  Never in any city, in either hemisphere, have I suffered such a nightmare of ugly ill-dressed women as is here found.”

That is a most unfair and unjustifiable remark to make.  Brimstone evidently does not agree with SARK who is more disagreeable than ever.  The only thing that has touched his stony nature since he came to Aix is the unselfish devotion of the local aristocracy to the interests of the town.  Visitors mustering in the Elisengarten for their morning cups, notice the group of musicians in the orchestra by the entrance-gate.  Every man wears a top-hat, the only head-gear of the kind seen in Aix.  SARK, attracted by this peculiarity, made inquiries, and learned from an intelligent native that these are nobles in disguise, who, desirous of contributing to the common weal, turn out at seven every morning to play the band.  They are willing to sink all social distinctions, save that they will wear the cylindrical hat of civilisation.  Not comfortable, especially in wet weather; but it adds an air of distinction to the group.

“Very nice of them,” SARK grudgingly admits; “but”—­he must have the compensation of a sneer—­“imagine our House of Lords forming themselves into groups to play the band in Palace Yard, with HALSBURY wielding the mace by way of baton!  They’d never do it, TOBY, even in top-hats.  Germany’s miles ahead of us in this matter.”

Sorry to find Squire of MALWOOD, who spent a morning here on his way to Wiesbaden, agreeing in SARK’s view of the standard of female beauty at Aix.

“Strange,” he mused, “that Nature never makes an ugly flower or tree or blade of grass; and yet, when it comes to men and women, behold!” and he swept a massive arm round the blighted scene in the crowded Kaiserplatz.

A small boy who thought the beneficent stranger in blue serge was chucking pfennings about the Square, careered wildly round in search of the treasure.  We walked on without undeceiving him.  To quote again from an old friend:  “There is nothing more conducive to the production and maintenance of a healthy mind in a sound body than enterprise and industry, even when, owing to misapprehension or miscalculation, their exercise leads to no immediate reward.”

It had been quite a surprise one morning to find the SQUIRE striding into the coffee-room at “Nuellens.”