for the result. Another deputation immediately
set out for Constantinople, to explain
that the village diplomatists had been telling
barefaced untruths to the effendi who had
been sent to question them; a natural
result they added of the effendi not having
stated the object which he had been sent
to attain; for, had they known it, they
assured the Turkish authorities that the
accounts rendered of their local expenses
would have appeared as small as they now
seemed large. In short, they cried out so
lustily at the result of their own intrigues
and falsehoods, they bribed and cringed and
flattered and sued, with such pertinacity,
that the Porte sent down another of its wise
men to unravel the tangled business.

You may be sure the Greeks were ready
for the new commissioner. They told him a
tale of poverty and wretchedness in wonderful
contradiction with the plumpness of
their aspect. Again, however, Muffi Vizier,
that traitor from their camp, hit upon a
means of catching them. He desired that
every inhabitant of the island should be
made to furnish an account of his live
stock. Again the village diplomatists were at
fault. Pigs, and fowls and turkeys,
horses, mules, and oxen, could not be
concealed; and, though they showed the utmost
anxiety to deceive, and did deceive as
much as they could, yet for once they were
obliged to tell what was very nearly the
real state of the case. With the new account
in his possession, the new commissioner also
went upon his way.

The wise men of the East took council at
Constantinople, and I have a strong opinion
that they must have taken also the advice
of some sharp hand at figures there. They
valued the live stock of the grumbling island,
they calculated its probable increase annually,
and they found that the whole taxation of the
place did not amount to more than twelve
per cent upon its revenue.

The breasts of the wise men were filled with
wrath, and a mighty letter went forth to
the local governor. He was commanded
not only to collect the whole arrears of
taxes due to the Porte, but to increase
them considerably in future. He carried
these orders into effect with such vigour
and efficacy that the people over whom he
ruled have not even yet done wincing
whenever his name is mentioned. The
members of the several deputations were all
banished from their homes for various
periods; and, when they asked whether such
were the rights which had been promised to
them by the Tanzimat, the governor frowned
in such a terrible manner that they thought
it prudent to decamp without further parley;
and so ended the crooked negotiation of our
village diplomatists.

I wonder whether some other diplomatists
we know of, really attain results much more
brilliant? Whether it is really possible in
our days to deceive anybody by diplomacy
without being found out and punished?
Whether anything whatever is to be gained
by lies, and crookedness, and hocus-pocus,
secrecy, bribery, and trickery. If not, I
wonder why they are kept up. Why all
sorts and conditions of pompous elderly
gentlemen are allowed to lead the world such
a singular dance as they do; and lastly,
whether a little plain common sense, openness,
fair dealing, and an earnest wish to do right
in the eyes of God and man would not
answer infinitely better.

THE SCHOOLMASTER AND HIS LESSON.

HE would make a fine study for a painter,
as the type of a Grand Inquisitor. He
is small, spare, delicate-looking, slightly
crooked. There is a wonderful power of
evil about his face. I never saw a man with
an expression so determined and dangerous;
his smile is deadly. He is very
pale, and his strong raven beard is shaved
carefully away from his hollow cheeks. His
black hair is scant and lank; his forehead
narrow; his brows are dark, heavy, and terrible.
They project in a singular manner over eyes
whose meaning has something wonderfully
secret and sinister. His nose is high and
hooked, his mouth wide, his chin pointed;
he makes contortions as he walks, and his
step is silent and stealthy, like that of a cat.
His small, white, womanly hands, are always
cold and clammy. It is not good to shake
them. He is a scholar, and there are
few Greek books, ancient or modern, with
which he is not familiar—from Hellanicos
the Lesbian, who wrote earlier than
Herodotus, down to the feminine prattle of
Anna Comnena, and the silliest of the Byzantine
historians. He knows them all, as well
as the last fiery pamphlet of Soutzo, or the
last frantic leaders in the Athenian
newspapers. His erudition and his industry are
amazing; yet he was born a rayah nearly
forty years ago, before education in Turkey
had grown so general as it has now. He was
born also in an out-of-the-way place, and is
entirely self-taught.

He has come to pay me a visit. To
those who know the Greeks it is almost
needless to say why; or why he brought a
present in an embroidered pocket-handkerchief,
which my servant persuaded him to
send home again, before he came up stairs:—
He wants something. I know this, of course,
when I ask him to take a seat opposite to
me—where the light falls well on his face—
and clap my hands for coffee. He begins with
a series of fidgety and extravagant compliments,
which make me quite uncomfortable.
But I let him go on, and listen without
any visible signs of impatience, except one or
two abortive attempts to change the
conversation. Then I pass the time in wondering
how a man undoubtedly so gifted and able,
should suppose that I or anybody else cannot