THE AMERICAN
place kept him from day to day; he was looking about him and deciding what to do for the winter. His summer had been very full, and as he sat under the great trees beside the miniature river that trickles past the Baden flower-beds he slowly rummaged it over. He had seen and done a great deal, enjoyed and observed a great deal; he felt older, yet felt it somehow, even at the age he had reached, as an advantage. He remembered Mr. Babcock and his desire to learn the great lesson, and he remembered also that he had profited little by his friend's exhortation to cultivate the same respectable habit. Could n't he scrape together a few great lessons? Baden-Baden was the prettiest place he had seen yet, and orchestral music in the evening, under the stars, was decidedly a great institution. This was the lesson that was clearest. But he went on to reflect that he had done very wisely to pull up stakes and come abroad; the world was apparently such an interesting thing to see. He had drawn a few morals of his own; he could n't say just which, but he had them there under his hat-band. He had done what he wanted; he had tackled the great sights and closed with the great occasions, he had given his mind a chance to "improve" if it would. He fondly believed it had improved a good deal. Yes, these waters of the free curiosity were very soothing, and he would splash in them till they ran dry. Forty-two years as he was on the point of numbering, he had a long course in his eye, and if the haze of the future was thick it was that of a golden afternoon. Where should he take the world next? I have said he remembered
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