your own choice about the matter,' he says.
' Very well,' I says; ' then all I 'ave to say is
that neither me nor my mates,' I says, 'will
'ave hany think to do with it,' I says, ' on terms
as is contrairy to the trade,' I says.  For I
know'd they was contracted to do the job by a
given time, and I know'd they couldn't get
nobody to work different to what I said. Well,
next evening I was 'aving arf a pint with Jem
round at the King's Head, when who should
come in but this ere Hoakum himself. ' Oh,'
says he, as soon as ever he ketched sight of me,
' you're the very man I want'd,' he says. ' I've
seen the governor,' he says, ' about that there
arrangement,' he says, 'and he's agreeable to
make it all right,' he says, ' if so be as you and
your mates can begin the job at wunst,' he
says. ' So we 'ad arf a pint to make it all square,
as you may say, and I says, ' Mr. Hoakum,' I
says, ' it is not unknown to you that a man must
look arter his hown,' I says, ' and thuffore I
hope,' I says, 'as there is no hill-will betweenst
us,' I says. ' George,' he says, ' you 'ave the
right to make the best bargain you can,' he says,
' and so here's wishing of you luck.'"

I hope that the conversation-tap is now
exhausted to the very dregs, and that we may get
away to the chronicling of other matters which
all this time have been necessarily neglected.

HIGH LIFE IN PERSIA.

I sit in the best room of the empty Anderoon
of the prince-governor of the fairest of the
Persian cities, and look out on the clear blue sky,
and hearken to the whispering of trees and
murmur of fountains in the gardens. My room
is a small square apartment, richly carpeted;
but the walls are of mud, and not even
white-washed or plastered level. The doors are of
plain unpainted deal, and fasten ill with uncouth
contrivances—a clumsy leaden button, a loop
and a chain of the same metal. The windows
close with a leaden hook and eye; but the wood
of the sashes is warped, and the hook and eye
cannot be made to meet. Rude as they are,
they are very pretty. The panes are of
many-coloured glass, divided by lattice-work into
stars, and squares, and circles, and diamond
shapes. The glass, though coarse and bad, is
beautifully stained, for the Persians are famous
for their colours, and the light comes through
them sobered, yet fantastic, giving quaint
expression to many of the objects in the room.
There are no chairs, tables, or other furniture
in the apartment, but a curtain of beautiful
shawl-work hangs in heavy folds before the
door. All round the room are shelves, like
those of a shop in Europe, and on one of these
shelves stands an undisciplined rabble of bottles,
full of wine and sherbet. In one corner of
the room is a fireplace, grotesque and small.
There is a murmur of my servants in the
ante-chamber, which is separated from mine only
by a very slender partition. Day and night
that murmur never ceases. Flies hum and
buzz about the room on restless wing, and the
fleas of the neighbourhood are far too attentive.
But, upon the whole, I feel very happy, and
with good cause.

The floor is strewn with leaden trays, each
bearing a gift of honour from some magnate of
the province. On some of these trays are
sweetmeats of many colours and strange shapes.
On some are packets of the famous caravan tea
from Russia. On some stand tall rows of sugar-loaves,
standing like sentinels on guard to protect
the other dainties. On some of the trays are
ripe fruits, piled up in prodigal heaps; the large
water-melon, and rich clusters of grapes, with
the bloom still upon them, fresh gathered.
Here and there stands a large bowl of cream,
or a pot of honey, and the snake-like tube of a
golden kalion lies curled up in the midst. My
European clothes and travelling gear seem
strangely inharmonious and out of place amidst
this pretty scene.

I look out from my windows on a spacious
garden surrounded by high walls, regularly and
neatly built. In the centre of the garden a fountain
plays, dashing its white spray aloft merrily,
as though at sport with the air. Fair flowers
of unknown dyes and undreamed-of loveliness,
bow their heads as the zephyrs of noonday
sweep over them. But beside them bloom also
the rose and homely marigold, and the broom
plant waves me a bonny welcome, and afar off,
encircling the garden, stands a row of
cosmopolitan poplars; and near yonder rivulet is the
sad and graceful willow, ever weeping. Rills
of pure bright sparkling water meander about
hither and thither. Yonder, amidst some stones
and brambles, gushes and leaps a mimic waterfall.

Fowls and turkeys walk about in the garden,
and I meet a solemn-looking sheep, who appears
quite at home in a summer-house. Some handsome
greyhounds lie in picturesque attitudes
about the walks, attesting to the Persian love of
coursing. In an outhouse there are some
Armenian women washing; and in another are
litters and travelling conveniences for ladies,
and cradles made to be slung upon horses for
children. In the midst of the garden there is
a tent, with soldiers seated round a fire, on which
simmers a large iron pot, where their meat is
being cooked.

Right before my window is a pile of arms,
old English muskets and bayonets, with the
name of Wilson on them. Upon a bench against
the wall my guards sit drowsily. There are
four of them. The chief wears a pair of
spectacles, I think for ornament, as one of the
glasses is wanting. I do not know why it is,
but they appear to me like four monthly nurses.
Perhaps it is that their personal appearance,
swarthed and untidily wrapped up as they are,
is suggestive of some resemblance. Perhaps it
is the guilty way of jumping up and appearing
to be busy all at once when caught napping.
When I go in or out they run for the old
muskets, which immediately fall down all together,
and are tumbled over, but are at last packed