her with a professional glance as if she were
being adjusted in her seat, "and the'll do you
juthtithe. Good bye Thethilia!"

"Good bye Cecilia! " Good bye Sissy!"
"God bless you dear! " In a variety of voices
from all the room.

But the rifling-master eye had observed
the bottle of the nine oils in her bosom, and
he now interposed with " Leave the bottle, my
dear; ith large to carry; it will be of no uthe
to you now. Give it to me!"

"No, no! " she said, in another burst of
tears. " Oh no! Pray let me keep it for
father till he comes back! He will want it,
when he comes back. He had never thought
of going away, when he sent me for it. I
must keep it tor him, if you please!"

"Tho be it, my dear. (You thee how it
ith, Thquire!) Fare well, Thethilia! My latht
wordth to you ith thith, Thtick to the
termth of your engagement, be obedient to
the Thquire, and forget uth. But if, when
you're grown up and married and well off,
you come upon any horthe-riding ever, don't
be hard upon it, don't be croth with it, give
it a Bethpeak if you can, and think you might
do wurth. People mutht be amuthed, Thquire,
thomehow," continued Sleary, rendered more
pursy than ever, by so much talking; " they
can't be alwayth a working, nor yet they can't
be alwayth a learning. Make the betht of uth:
not the wurtht. I've got my living out of the
horthe-riding all my life, I know; but I con-
thider that I lay down the philothophy of the
thubject when I thay to you, Thquire, make
the betht of uth: not the wurtht!"

The Sleary philosophy was propounded as
they went down stairs; and the fixed eye of
Philosophy—and its rolling eye, too—soon
lost the three figures and the basket in the
darkness of the street.

OUT IN THE DESERT.

THERE is no word which suggests more
vague and horrible ideas than the Desert.
We are prone, rather from the impressions
left by classical writers and poets than from
exact geographical study, to imagine it as a sea
of sand, now stretching in level uniformity on
every side to a circular horizon, now raised
as it were into white billows by the wind.
There are places to which such a description
would apply; and the writer of this page
has himself passed over limited expanses
where he could discover no landmark,—
nothing to guide his steps, and where it was
easier to navigate, if that expression may be
used, at night, when the stars had taken up
their immutable stations, than by the dazzling
light of day.

But, in general, the Desert is far less
dreary and dismal than this. Even that
broad belt of country, so long indicated
by a cloud of dots in our maps, extending
between the Barbary States and the Black
Kingdoms of Central Africa, is full of resting-
places, though small, and in this way only
can we account for the fact, that as far as
history or tradition takes us back, we hear of
caravan routes crossing it in every direction,
with regular stations and places of rendezvous.
There are difficulties and dangers to be over-
come certainly; but imagination is a great
coward, and requires to be comforted by
science. Wonderful was the story of the
Simoom; but, although a recent traveller
persuaded himself that he saw water boil
beneath its influence, two-thirds of what we
hear of it may be ranked with the marvels of
the Arabian Nights' Entertainments.

Yet there is something fascinating in the
way in which the Orientals tell of the perils
of desert-travelling, especially when we know
that however those perils may have been
exaggerated, they have a real existence after
all, that lives have been lost, that whole caravans
have truly "foundered " in a sea of sand,
and that every difficult traject is strewed with
bones, not always of camels. Although, therefore,
after some time spent in the Libyan
waste, I had begun to look upon it as a very
comfortable sort of place indeed—the chances
of dying by thirst or heat, or frays with
robbers, not always suggesting themselves—
yet, when I left a well announced as the last
for four days, a slight feeling of awe seemed
not inappropriate. Silence prevailed in the
caravan for some time—all my companions
being in the same mood of mind.

There are several sorts of caravans or
Kafilas. Ours was composed simply of travellers;
and it is worth while saying a word or
two of its economy, in order that readers
accustomed to a rather more expeditious
mode of proceeding may be enabled to realise
the slowness of our progress. We had with
us nine camels to carry baggage, provisions,
and water for nine men; whilst for "equestrian"
purposes we had six animals which
we rather vulgarly designated Jerusalem
ponies. The four travellers walked or rode
as they chose; their two servants generally
walked; whilst the escort of three Bedouins
shuffled along in their slippers or climbed up
and sat between the water-skins or on the
tent-gear. Our average rate of progress
was two miles and a half per hour; for
whatever was gained by pushing forward at
a more rapid rate, was sure to be lost afterwards
by idling on the way. When the
country was absolutely arid we went steadily
on in a compact body; but occasionally in
the beds of valleys or in almost imperceptible
hollows in the plain were expanses
covered by a growth of dwarf plants with
more weed than leaf, or even by spare
thickets of rather lively green. Then the
camels stretched down their long necks, now
to one side, now to the other; not absolutely
stopping but pausing to snatch mouthfuls,
which they munched as they went. If they
were denied the privilege, say the Bedouins,
they would soon be exhausted and unable to