Syrians, negroes, Jews of all climates, and
travellers from every quarter of the globe. The
water-carrier, with his jar of sherbet on his
head, tinkles his brass drinking-cups in the
ears of the passers-by; the tart-seller offers his
melon-puffs; and here, just leaving the fruit-shop,
where she has doubtless been buying "Syrian
apples and Othmanee quinces, peaches of Oman,
and Egyptian limes," comes the fair Amine
herself, followed by that identical porter who was
"a man of sense, and had perused histories."

Wandering on thus in a dream of Arabian
Nights, the young men, having fortified
themselves with sherbet, presently mount a couple
of very thorough-bred, high-spirited donkeys,
and set off for the ruins of ancient Alexandria.
These ruins lie out beyond the town walls, amid
a sandy, dreary, hillocky waste that stretches
far away for miles and miles beside the sparkling
sea. Here they see Pompey's pillar, and
Cleopatra's obelisk, and a wilderness of crumbling
masonry clothed in a green and golden mantle
of wild marigolds all in flower. Here, where
once stood the temple of Serapis with its
platform of a hundred steps, the wild sea-bird flits
unmolested, the jackals have their lair, and the
travellers talk of the glories of the Ptolemys.

At last, fairly tired out, our Franks are fain
to strike their colours and go back to the town.
Here they put up at an English hotel, where
they bathe, dine, and rest till evening; when
they again sally forth—this time to call upon
the English consul.

CHAPTER LXIX. IN SEARCH OF A COMPANY.

THE consul was not at his office when the
travellers presented themselves; but his
representative, a very magnificent young clerk,
resplendent in rings, chains, and a fez, was there
instead. They found this official in the act of
writing a letter, humming a tune, and smoking
a cigar—all of which occupations he continued
to pursue with unabated ardour, notwithstanding
that Saxon presented himself before his desk.

"I shall be glad to speak to you, if you
please," said Saxon, "when you are at leisure."

"No passport business transacted after two
o'clock in the day," replied the clerk, without
lifting his eyes.

"Mine is not passport business," replied
Saxon.

The clerk hummed another bar, and went on
writing.

Saxon began to lose patience.

"I wish to make a simple inquiry," said he;
"and I will thank you to lay your pen aside for
a moment, while I do so."

The peremptory tone produced its effect.
The clerk paused, looked up, lifted his eyebrows
with an air of nonchalant insolence, and said:

"Why the dooce, then, don't you ask it?"

"I wish to know in what part of this city I
shall find the offices of the New Overland Route
Railway and Steam-Packet Company."

"What do you mean by the New Overland
Route?" said the clerk.

"I mean a company so-called—a company
which has lately established an office here in
Alexandria."

"Never heard of any such company," said
the clerk, "nor of any such office."

"Where, then, do you suppose I can obtain
this information?"

"Well, I should say—nowhere."

"I think it is my turn to ask what you
mean?" said Saxon, haughtily.

"My meaning is simple enough," replied the
clerk, taking up his pen. "There is no New
Overland Company in Alexandria."

"But I know that there is a company of that
name," exclaimed Saxon.

The clerk shrugged his shoulders.

"Oh, very well," said he. "If you know it,
that's enough."

And with this he resumed his triple
occupation.

At that moment a little glass door opened at
the back of the office, and a bald-headed gentleman
came out. He bowed.

"You are inquiring," he said, "for some
commercial office, I believe? If you will permit
me to offer a suggestion, I would advise your
calling upon Mr. Melchisedek. Mr. Melchisedek
is our great commercial authority in Alexandria.
He knows everything, and he knows
everybody. A man of universal information,
and very courteous to strangers. You cannot
do better than call on Mr. Melchisedek."

"I am sure," said Saxon, "I am very much
obliged to you."

"Not at all—not in the least. Mr. Melchisedek—
anyone will direct you. The viceroy is
not better known. Good evening.

So saying, the bald-headed gentleman bowed
the travellers to the door, and closed it behind
them.

"Why, Trefalden," said the Earl, when they
were once more in the street, "what interest
can you possibly take in an Overland Company?
It is some obscure undertaking, depend on it."

"It won't be obscure for long," replied
Saxon, complacently. "It is a magnificent
affair; and if the agents out here are keeping it
quiet, they have their own reasons for doing so."

"You seem to know all about it," said Castletowers,
with some surprise.

"I know a good deal about it."

"And mean to take shares?"

"I have taken shares already," replied Saxon,
"to a large amount."

Whereupon the Earl only looked grave, and
said nothing.

NEW WORK BY MR. DICKENS.
In Monthly Parts, uniform with the Original Editions of
"Pickwick," "Copperfleld," &c.
Now publishing, PART XVIII., price 1s., of

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BY CHARLES DICKENS.

IN TWENTY MONTHLY PARTS.

With Illustrations by MARCUS STONE.
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