"Charley Leger, absolutely cannot
himself discover, by vision, when he is in the
act of transposition. The way in which he
legged you was this. As soon as he got a
pack of cards into his possession, he set a
finger-nail mark in the left-hand corner of
the back of each court-card, so minute as not
to be seen by the naked eye, and only to be
felt by his own miraculous sense of touch.
"Whenever he dealt, his practised thumb
recognised unerringly these indentations, and
at once by sleight of hand gave his adversary
the next card but one, instead of the honour
which belonged to him by right. He might
have given him an honour also, it is true, but
the odds of course were upon the whole
immensely in Charley's favour. It must have
been he, for there is no other man in England,
save himself, who can be certain of doing that
trick."

"Thank you," said my cousin, rising, " I
thought you would be able to tell me all
about the gentleman. Have you any more
questions, Harry, to put to the great Dagon,
before you depart into the realms of
Ignorance?"

"I want to know," said I, "what Mr.
Dagon means by saying that his young
friend could not even catch himself when he
was cheating."

"O," said the little man, good-naturedly,
"that is very easily explained. You see, Mr.
Leger applied himself to this difficult study
of his for at least two years: in the latter
portion of his probationary time he was
accustomed to sit opposite a looking-glass;
nor did he venture to practise his profession,
and take in the public, until he was unable
to perceive his own agile transpositions in the
mirror—that is to say, until he could take
in himself."

COFFEE AND PIPES.

THE regulation eastern trip is as well
defined as was the European grand tour of
our fathers, The starting-point from Europe
is Marseilles, thence by steam to Alexandria;
taking Malta on the way. Cairo is reached
by rail in a few hours from Alexandria.
There, preparations are made for the boat
trip up the Nile. The first cataract is seen,
and afterwards the second. Back the tourists
(generally half-fledged collegians beginning
life) come to Cairo, then on either by the big
or little desert as time may permit, to
Jerusalem, at which place it seems to be a point
of honour to arrive before the Easter festivals.
From Jerusalem the traveller usually pushes
on to Damascus, remains there a day or two,
and running to Beyrout, gets there just in
time to catch the Austrian or French steamer
to Constantinople, whence he proceeds by
way of the Danube and Germany back to
Pall Mall. He has turned two months to
excellent account, but he has skipped Mount
Lebanon.

Lebanon ought properly to be termed a
range, or series, of mountains. Running as
it does along the sea-coast from above Tripoli
on the north to above Sidon on the south,
the length of Mount Lebanon must be nearly
fifty or sixty miles, while inland, hill upon
hill, mountain upon mountain, ravine after
ravine, and valley after valley, the range
penetrates at least some seven or eight
leagues.

During the months of July, August, and
September, the heat on the coast of Syria is
intense. I had been residing upwards of a
year in Beyrout, when I longed for the coolness
of a journey to the hills. Therefore, on
a hot morning last summer, I went up to
those hills, accompanied by a respectable
young Arab interpreter, and a servant to
look after horses. My first intention was to
mount as high as the top of Jebeel Sunin—
the tip-top of Lebanon—and thence proceed
along the ridge (always high up in the cool
region) to the Cedars. As it turned out, I
saw less of the country and more of the
people than I had intended.

About an hour before sunrise we were in
the saddle. Went through the open space
which lies outside of the walls of Beyrout,
took the road leading towards the north,
and along the seaside. Like all the roads of
Syria—in which province no wheeled vehicle
of any sort has yet been seen—this was a bad
road, full of stones so large that it would
take a strong man to lift one of them. About
a mile from the town, and close upon the
road, stands a brick wall, the first object of
interest—old, ruined—seemingly part of a
bridge which is no more. On this wall are
marks as of lime long ago splashed against it.
These are said, and devoutly believed, to be the
marks of the soap used by Saint George when
he washed his hands after killing the dragon.
His encounter with that powerful saurian
took place, it is said, on the seaside close by.
A Maronite chapel (the Maronites are a
sect of Christians, very numerous in Syria,
and they are in communion with the Church
of Rome) and a Mahometan mosque, both
erected near the spot, commemorate the
fight, and, on Saint George's feast-day, both
temples are frequented by thousands of their
respective worshippers. From this brick wall
to the Beyrout sea-shore, about half a mile
onward, the road is so bad that it needs Syrian
horses and Syrian riders to get over it.
Every proprietor of an adjoining garden has
thrown over into it whatever stones or other
lumber cumbered his own property, and the
many rills of water used for irrigation of the
mulbery plants in the orchards are, when not
otherwise wanted, turned loose on the highway
as the general drain of the district.
Yet, within two miles of these very gardens,
water is so scarce that they sell it by the
jar.

After passing the Beyrout river, by a solid
bridge of several arches, which an expenditure