In taking this view, the kind lady underrated
the firm will of her protégé.

Coralie's aim and ambition was to bring
back Eugene´s remains to France, and to lay
them by the side of her mother in the
cemetery of Montmartre. She had already
made inquiries; it would cost three thousand
francs.

`I can perhaps earn as much at Oran, and
if not I can pray by his resting-place, and
mark it better than by a wooden cross; and
at last we will rest in the same grave, either
in our native France or under the African
soil where he fell, it little matters, so we
are together."

That evening the wretched girl left Madame
Ferey more calm than she had been since the
fatal news. The discussing her project with
a friend had given it reality. She had none
to help her in her inquiries or preparations.
She felt that she must be up and doing, and
instead of indulging in natural grief, she
roused herself to action. Many days passed
in the arrangements necessary for her plan;
then it was rumoured among the scholars
that Mademoiselle Fischer was going away
ever so far, and would never keep a school
again. There was a sale, and all the furniture
and other precious possessions, so hardly
earned objects around which were twined
so many tender thoughts and joyful hopes—
were sold and scattered abroad. Everything,
except the arm-chair which she still called
his; that she begged Madame Ferey to keep,
in case she ever returned. The slippers and
cap she took with her. Grief—true grief,
has strange vagaries. She bade every one
adieu quietly, without having told any but
Madame Ferey whither she was going. Some
mouths elapsed, and then Madame Ferey
received a letter dated from Oran. Coralie
had made her way through difficulties
and disagreeables of all kinds; but she
was used to struggles, hardships, and self-
reliance. She was now settled at Oran,
and supporting herself as a day-governess
among the families of the French officers.
She was very kindly treated. Before leaving
Paris, she had seen Rivarol again, and
received all the information requisite to
find out the spot sacred to her affections.
Each morning, before the heat of an African
day, and before the toil of her avocation
begins, she walks beyond the walls of the
town to kneel and pray by the side of a
retired grave.

The native population by whose dwellings
she passes, noticed this young French woman's
diurnal pilgrimage, watched her steps, and
discovered its object. It raised her high in
their veneration.

One morning an old negro, himself a toiling
servant to Arabs, awaited her coming and
presented her a nosegay with these words:

   "Moi donner ces fleurs à vous car vous bonne"
    (Me give you these flowers because you good).

Any traveller visiting Oran may easily find
out our heroine. She was still toiling on in
hope a few months ago.

THE PAPYRUS.

THE writer of one of those extremely
permanent spelling-books, which defy all ravages
of time, and changes of fashion, is extremely
emphatic in calling the juvenile mind to the
contemplation of the various virtues of the
cow, as a source of beef, milk, butter, horn,
and leather. To borrow a French expression
for which there is no precise equivalent, the
youthful reader is regularly taught to
exploiter a cow.

Did some ancient Egyptian spelling-book
fall into our hands, and were we able to read
it, we should, probably find the papyrus
dilated upon like the English cow, as a natural
concentration of general utility. It supplied
not only the paper of the ancients, but
food, physic, fuel, and a great deal more.
Herodotus, when he introduces it to his
readers by its other name, "byblos," puts
down its comestible qualities first. "When,"
he says, "they pull up the byblos from the
marshes, they cut off the upper part of it,
and turn it to other purposes, but the lower
part which is left, and is about a cubit iu
length, they eat raw, and sell."

According to the same illustrious authority,
the refined way of enjoying your byblos, is to
steam it in a red-hot pan before you convey
it to your mouth.

The other purposes of which Herodotus
speaks so indefinitely are catalogued by Pliny
in his Natural History. The roots, he tells
us, were used as wood,—not merely as firewood,
be it understood, but also as a material
for the manufacture of divers utensils. From
the stalk were made light boats; and the bark
furnished sails, mats, raiment, ropes, and
blankets. The combustible qualities of the
plant were in such good repute, that the bier
of a deceased person, before it was laid on
the funeral pyre was strewed over with dried
papyrus, that the corpse might burn the more
readily. Martial, disappointed of the legacy
which he expected from one Numa, illustrates
by an epigram, not only the well-approved
doctrine of the cup and the lip, but also this
funereal use of the papyrus:

Upon the pile is light papyrus cast,
The weeping wife buys scents of holy smell;
Couch, washer, pit are ready, when at last
Nuuia makes me his heir, and then—gets well.

Papyrus also had its medical uses. We
are informed by Pliny, that the ashes of the
paper made from it will promote sleep, if
swallowed with a draught of wine, and that
the paper itself, moistened with water, makes
in efficient plaister.

However, the manufacture of paper was
the great purpose for which the papyrus was
employed. According to Varro, tins useful
article was unknown before the time when