rode off with young Sir Harry, that very
afternoon. He left the inmates of the cottage
animated by very different feelings; the old man
was wild with joy, delighting in his titled grandson,
and expressing his exultation in envelopes
of explosive epithets, like the bon-bons of a
supper-party; the girl was tearful and
unhappy, missing him who had been absent
from her, not even for a day, for years;
and, perhaps, doubtful of her lover's faith
amidst the unknown temptations of his new
position. I thought it not right to check any
mistrust that she might entertain. I had
indeed the highest opinion of my friend Harry;
but the difference between the smuggler's
grandson looking out for a dairy farm, and
the heir of thousands per annum, was too
great to permit me to be sure even of him;
how many promises of both wise and good
men have melted before a sun of prosperity,
far less powerful than his! I felt, therefore,
not astounded, but deeply grieved by the
commencement of the young baronet's letter,
written not many weeks ago, and immediately
after his arrival at Hindon Hall.

"DEAR AND REVEREND SIR,—I arrived at my place
here with Mr. Tapewell yesterday morning; it is a
very grand one indeed; there are two great drawing
rooms and a library en suite, where I suppose I must
give my ball to the county, so soon as a decent time
has elapsed after the obsequies of the late Sir Marmaduke.
He was buried yesterday in our family vault,
and many of the nobility and gentry round expressed
their respect for his memory by sending their carriages,
with coachmen and footmen complete, to follow the
hearse. I begin to feel myself quite at home, and my
people all recognise my likeness to that long line of
ancestors which adorns the great corridor. I have had
my hands full enough of important business, as you
may imagine, but I hope I have not forgotten my good
friend at Scarcliff; and I want your assistance here,
my dear sir, in suggesting what would be the most
appropriate present by which I could mark my sense of
their kindness. I am thinking of sending half-a-
hogshead of the best French brandy to the old gentleman
at Watersleap—what think you?"

If it were not for my burning indignation,
I could have shed tears in reading these
heartless words of this spoilt child of fortune,
which he applied to his grandfather and
patron, to whom he owed all.

"As for the young lady, my dear sir, I am afraid I
almost committed myself in that quarter; but really a
flirtation, however strong, is more excusable at Scarcliff
—pour passer le temps—than anywhere else; the
Hindon blood, however, cannot quite stand another
mesalliance, I think."

This finished the page, and I had scarcely
patience, so vehement was my scorn, to turn
the leaf and read the following:

"And now, my dear and kind friend, I believe I
have paid you for the cruel prophecies you used to
make concerning me whenever I should become Sir
Harry. I wonder, however, I could have imagined
such noxious sentiments as I have expressed (I flatter
myself) to your extreme disgust overleaf. I long
to be back again at the dear village; or rather,
I wish that the whole of its inhabitants would
come and live at the hall; I am sure it is quite big
enough, and looks at present comfortless, unfriendly,
ghost-haunted, and cold. Certainly I shall transport
hither many of your best friends, to be your parishioners
anew at Hindon; for you must not refuse that little gift
from hands that have received so very much from you.
I write, by this day's post, to Watersleap, two letters,
and, I hope, send welcome tidings. I really do want
your advice upon what good—what greatest benefit—I
can possibly do at Scarcliff, to man, woman, and child
there, all of whom I know so well; they deserve far
more than I can give them, indeed. I have looked in
the most malignant depths of my heart for testimonies
against them, but can find no record anywhere save
of kind words and neighbourly deeds. And now,
to speak of that which engrosses almost my every
thought, do, dear friend, persuade my beloved Mary
to fix a day for our marriage in your old grey church,
upon Scarcliff Hill, not very far from this on which I
write. If I have a pleasure beyond the mere selfish
one of showing myself in some sort grateful to my
many friends, in this good fortune of mine, it is that
which I anticipate in having her to share it. If I care
in the least for this position of mine, it is because I
know how she, who has been poor herself, and
understands the poor, will grace it. You, however, must
be our Mentor, as before, and, beyond all things,
remind me sharply of the young fisherman's opinions
whenever I affect the Sir Harry overmuch. To
prevent any further mixture with baseness, and to
keep this magnificent line of mine quite pure and in
the family—entirely that is, you see, from genealogical
reasons—I hope within the month to marry my first
cousin, Mary Ashfield."

CAIRO.

THE joltings in the Desert; the furnace-
heat of the Red Sea; the utter sandy
wretchedness of Suez; the cindery dreariness of
Aden, are all alike forgotten and forgiven by
the traveller, when arrived at Cairo—the
Grand Cairo of the Arabian Nights, the
next-door neighbour of Thebes, the adopted
of the Pyramids, the dweller on the lotus-
banked Nile. Two short days and nights
have scarcely passed away since I was the
helpless victim of beery stewards, steaming
cuddy servants, and greasy Lascars. To-night
I am steeped in the odoriferous dreaminess of
Oriental romance, lounging arm-in-arm with
the spirits of departed sultans, grand viziers,
and chiefs of all the eunuchs, with the bright
rays of an Egyptian moon lighting up
mosque, palace, bazaar, and fountain, and
lending an additional grandeur to the outline
of the silent pyramids, whose dark forms
stand out so heavily against the soft bright
sky, like giant sentinels watching over the
changing destiny of the land of poetry,
romance, and fairy legend.

The night is one of surpassing loveliness.
The air so soft and bland, as only to be found
in this lotus-land. Not one restless breath
of balmy atmosphere is found to stir the
feathery leaves of palms, or move a ripple on
the moonlit lake. Insects on leaf, and
flower, and shrub, are busy in the coolness of