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moment a man from behind threw his arms round / great doubts of his being able to sit on horse my body, and entreated me not to attempt to fire. back, eren should we manage to get away. I I cast him off, after a hard struggle, but he still discovered that a small leather case, in which I grasped the pistol, and prayed me not to use it, had carried my notebooks, letters, and the coins or we should all be murdered. Looking at him, and medals I had collected, had been lost in the I recognized the respectably-dressed man I had struggle." met a few minutes previously. What am I to do then ?' I demanded. Give me the pistol, and I It was with great difficulty that the will save you. He looked honest, and I thought party made their escape during the dark. my life would be sacrificed at any rate; so, with ness of midnight from these bigoted and a quick motion of my finger, I struck off the caps ruffianly villagers. Nor was the treatment and gave up the pistol. This precaution I took they met with at some of the other villages lest it should be used against myself, Having of a much less hostile and inhospitable got it, he told me to run. • Where?' I asked. He pointed out the path, and away I ran, while character. And no wonder, for the Arabs he restrained the mob behind. I soon overtook of the Hauran acknowledge themselves to Mr. and Nikóla, who were likewise running, be thieves by profession, as may be deand the old shiekh trying to restrain their pur- duced from the following colloquy: suers. I inquired for Mr. Barnett, but at that moment he too came up without hat or shoes, and " What brought you to the Deir when you the blood flowing from his head. We now ran saw us there?' I asked him.—'To strip you,' he along, guided by some men, and soon reached our coolly replied. “And why did you not do it?— house.

• Because Mahmûd was with you.' But why “ Our appearance, wounded and bleeding, sur- would you plunder us ? we are strangers, and not prised Mahmûd and our servants, and they quick- your enemies.' It is our custom.' " And do you sy gathered up the arms and prepared for defense. strip all strangers ?' 'Yes, all we can get hold of.' Mahmûd, rushing out, confronted the angry mob, And if they resist, or are too strong for you?' who were coming, as they said, to murder us all. In the former case we shoot them from behind He succeeded in turning them back ; but as they trees, and in the latter we run. How do the went away they were heard to say we could not people of your tribe live? Do they sow or feed leave the village without their knowledge, and Hocks ?' . We are not fellahîn! We keep goats that as soon as we attempted to leave they would and sheep, hunt partridges and gazelles, and steal ! finish their work.

'Are you all thieves ? Yes, all!' “ We had now leisure to examine our wounds and consider our position. My bruises were com- Notwithstanding all these difficulties, paratively slight-I was much stunned, but not Mr. Porter was enabled to accumulate a deeply cut. Mr. had received a severe cut in the arm; but Mr. Barnett's injuries were by mass of curious and important details and far the most serious of all. He had got several discovery, which will render his work one blows on the head and face, and was so much ex- of permanent importance to the student of hausted as to be unable to stand ; and we had sacred and classical geography.

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STATE PATRONAGE OF LETTERS.-A mu- | knowledge! A reward of £25 a year, or nificent pension has recently been bestow- £2 1s. 7d. a month, or 9s. 7d. a week, or, ed by her Most Gracious Majesty upon as we have said, just 1s. 4jd. a day, for Mr. Joseph Haydn, the laborious com- ingenious and laborious research among piler of the well-known Dictionary of the treasures of chronology-for sedulous Dates. A munificent pension of-ahem! and earnest, and devoted application to

- how much? Can any one guess ? Ac- the interest of literature-for very appretually a pension of £25 a year! Other- ciable though not easily calculable service wise a reward of– £2 1s. 8d. a month! to the cause of popular instruction, the or, 9s. 7d. a week! or, just 1s. 4 d. a great and good cause of national educaday! . A reward for-what? For the tion, abandoned for the most part to the work of a shoeblack? For journeyman spontaneous self-sacrifices of such men as tailoring? For sweeping the staircases of Mr. Haydn by the negligence or incompeBuckingham Palace, or weeding the gar- tence, or procrastination of the Imperial dens of Osborne,or rolling the gravel walks Government! A pension of £25 a year of Balmoral ? Nothing of the sort. In- for this! Why, a scullion in the Queen's stead of this, for long years of intellectual kitchen might look for a reward equivalabor-years consumed, first of all, in the lent in value, after growing old among the accumulation and diffusion of valuable kettles and pans of Windsor. Lond. Sun.

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In the fishing village of Penlanrhyn- upon the ear, left by a deaf tourist, the doldovey, in North Wales, I spent the summer before last. There was too, a very longest day of all my life; the place single half-sheet of note-paper and a pen, had several more syllables than I have the feather of which had been used in written down, but I think I have given varnishing ; but, after a few attempts at enough for practical purposes. The Tre- composition, which resulted, as they often madoc coach had dropped me there on do, in my masticating the latter instruSaturday evening because it had begun to ment, I folded up the paper, and moodily drizzle; but I made up my mind that the devoured that also. There was one more Tremadoc coach should pick me up again thing to be done; but I had done it these on Monday morning, though it should three or four hours consecutively already; rain cats and dogs and Welsh rabbits. I and that was to stare at the picture of made it up at breakfast-time, and kept on Penlanrhyndoldovey, suspended over the making it tighter all day long; for I had mantlepiece. Like most views found in nothing else to do-it was a wet day, and such places, it comprehended little of the it was a Sunday. The Leck was, I doubt beauty of the surrounding country; but not, situated in the most picturesque por- the public buildings of the town (if it tion of the principality; but at this par- might be called so), and the harbor, and ticular time it was located between two the little pier, were executed with appaliving walls of perpendicular rain. That rent fidelity and exactness. The church Penallyn frowned down on it from a gi- itself, though small, was a very pretty gantic altitude, I took on trust from the one, with the massive gray tower, which guide-book; that the falls of Leckwymn becomes so well a mountainous district. at Pontiniog could be easily reached by a The market-house for fish might rival that short mule-track, I credited with readi- of St. Peter's, at Guernsey; and there ness, and only trusted that the short were also two other well-built edifices, mule-track might not have been taken ad- whose use I could not at all discover. vantage of by the torrent to reach us. When Mrs. Aprhys returned, with her The village, they said, lay close behind us, rather less comfortable legs, I interro: and the sound of a little bell came up gated her on this matter. The rows of from it through the pauses of the storm, cottages, with porches and gardens, were as the still small voice of conscience makes alms-houses, she said, for the widows and itself heard amidst human passions. That families of men who had been lost at sea image suggested itself to me after seeing an accident which happened often on my landlady going to church for the sec- that dangerous coast); as pretty and ond time-taking the steeple upon her pleasant places to end one's days in as one head with her, I thought-upon a couple could wish to have; and thinking that to of as comfortable legs, as far as I could be more in my line, perhaps, she added : see (and I saw a good way) as any Jump-“There's a bittock of Latin over the outer in the district, leaving me alone in the er gateway: In memoriam, R.O., ob. house with Aprhys, and two Jenny eighteen hundred and twenty-five. Miss Joneses, who could not speak one word of Davies built it; and the little house at English. There was, at the Leck, in the the pier-head, she built that also; and way of literature, a Bradshaw, a work, night and day there were fires kept in it, (selling sixty thousand daily, it said) of and brandy, and blankets, and what not, one of those Americanesses who have to recover, if it might be, any of those struggled in at the gate of the heaven of that were found drounded.” popularity before it could be shut after “Dear me!” said I, coolly; for I was Mrs. Beecher Stowe; and a medical book out of temper with Penlanrhyndoldovey,

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and did'nt think the people much worth and loveliness of its own. Her hair was saving, “She must be a worthy person." snow-white; and her blue eyes, though

“You may say that, sir, indeed; and far from bright, were full of tenderness we should never have had church or mar- and expression; her voice was as soft and ket if it had not been for her.”

musical as a girl's; and I fancied that I “Bless me, my dear Mrs. Aprhys,” for could discern in it that she was accustomI was a raw bachelor at that period, and ed to speak with the sick and sorrowful; quite prepared to run the risk of matri- for her part, it was clear, by the deep, mony for an adequate consideration : though quiet mourning that she wore, “Why this Miss Davies must be very that she had had woes irreparable of her rich ?"

own; woes not recent, for a settled resig. “No, sir, not very; for when folks nation seemed to possess her features, as spend no money on themselves, and if where the harrow of trouble had once only live for other people's good, it is passed, the seeds of patience and benevosurprising what may be done in thirty lence had sprung up and effaced its cruel years.”

traces. “Thirty years,” said I, a little interest- I backed cautiously to the fire-place, ed again. “O dear me, she must be old- and waited for the interview to be over ish then ?"

with some eagerness; for I was getting “Well, sir, you may see her soon, judge interested, in spite of myself, in Penlanfor yourself. I wonder she has not been rhyndoldovey and the house upon the here before; but she's sure to call this hill. I beat up the cushions of the armevening, on her way home. She lives, chair, and placed a foot-stool for the acwith a servant or two, all alone in the commodation of Mrs. Aprhys. I even cottage on the hill there."

put a chair for the landlord in the middle, Now I perceived that, for some reason in case “her” should be of a jealous temor other, my dear landlady was in a quar- perament, and desire to be present. I was ter of a second or so of a good cry; so, meditating as to what would be the corby way of changing the conversation, I rect drink for me to offer so obliging a said: “And what a beautiful view she a hostess when she appeared suddenly must have from it, both of land and sea?” herself with my tea.

“Ah! yes, indeed,” she sobbed, and “Another cup, if you will be so good," the tears stole over her plump cheeks, and said I. into the dimples about her little mouth, So, over that cozy meal, she told me in a flood that only Mr. Aprhys could the story. (with propriety) have dried up or im- “It so happens,” she began, “ that this

• peded in quite the correct way. “And very day is the properest of any to tell sad and sore sights she has seen from it, you this sad tale. I forgot the date, as ever woman's eyes have borne to look which no poor soul in this village is likely upon."

to have done, but remembered it so soon “Good gracious! What a charming as ever I saw Miss Ellen's face. She has -I mean, what a dreadful--mystery! been with the fatherless and the widow in Pray tell it, Mrs. Ap”_But just as the their affliction, since early dawn, and now

. tender-hearted little woman was making she has gone back to her lonely home. herself ready for a start as improvisatore, Though the storm has been driving down there came a knock at the door.

this ten hours, she has brought calm and “Hush! it's her!” she said ; and she sunlight to many a dwelling; and amongst trotted off on her comfortable legs like the huts by the sea-beach, where there metaphor fails me-like anything. live men that would seem to you mere

Now, I am not naturally of an inquisi- brutes, she has carried such help and comtive turn of mind; but, as a late philoso- fort, that they would risk life and limb for pher observed to his friend, "we must the sake of her. Them that the waves stop somewhere ;" and I stopped at the and winds make mock of she cares the parlor-door and looked through the crack. most for, because she mourns night and I felt conscience-smitten and rightly pun- day for one beneath the seas; and espe. ished the next instant: they spoke in cially them that are lovers, the fisher lads Welsh, and the lady was sixty, if she was and lasses, for whom she speaks to their a day. Yet her face had not only the parents, and makes a little golden road remains of beauty, but a present charm for true love to run smooth on-perhaps,

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because she once was loved herself, and were lost to him ; but he liked to hear loved again, and she knows what it is for the wind coming through the tree-tops of two fond hearts to be sundered.”

the copse, and bending

the feathery tops “My dear Mrs. Aprhys,” I said, “I of the brook-rushes. He knew all the perceive this is going to be something of fairness of nature that way, he said : and a love story. If you will permit me to perhaps she does whisper more things to run up stairs for my slippers, I shall be the blind than she does to us; not but back directly, and will not interrupt you that Miss Ellen was always by, to guide again on any account; but in the first his finger right from east to west. She place, it seems likely the tale may be a lit- told him of the wood-crowned hill Penaltle protracted, and secondly, I have al-lyn, which the sun makes golden in the ways found it impossible to appreciate morning, and over whose shoulders rises sentiment in boots."

old Snowdon's hoary head from far away; This arrangement having been complet- of the harbor and the pier, and the great ed, I nodded to my companion, who had black nets on the shingle; of the red-sailapparently remained in deep thought du- ed vessels putting out to sea. They could ing the interval, and she continued her hear, if it was a calm day, the shouts of recital in a low and feeling voice, as if the sailors as they heaved their anchors, soliloquising, rather than addressing an- the roll of their oars in the rowlocks, the other person :

dip of the oar-blades, and all the pleasant “I can just remember what she was stir of the little town. She read aloud to about five-and-thirty years back; but my him, as from an open book, all things that old man could tell you of her much ear-passed, and through her music, I warrant, lier. She lived up on the hill there with they lost but little. From quite in the her blind father, and was as bonnie a early morning to sunset, when the dammaiden as any Snowdon top could see. sels would be crossing the stepping-stones Many and many a time I've seen her lead that lead from the pasture-meadows, each him through the town to the market with her uplifted arm and her full pitcher, (there was no market-house then), and and when the mountains to westward there the old carle would chaffer and were reddening and burning, the teacher wrangle about a penny; for he was awful and the taught would sit there—the girl miserly, and the folk always let him have and her blind father. Now, I don't mean his way in the end, for the young lady, to say but that poor Miss Ellen had a dethey well knew, would suffer nobody to light of her own in this, besides that of lose, but made it right at last, herself. pleasing him. There was, indeed one I cannot say I ever liked the look of him; fishing-boat in Penlanrhyndoldovey which but Miss Ellen would gaze upon his white carried in her eyes a richer freight than all head and sightless eyes as though she the rest besides; and she knew when it were a-worshipping. I suppose there is was on board by a little white flag. I a love which child bears to parent, and think, too, Richard Owen, whose vessel it parent to child, such as I, who never was, had generally a glimpse of a white knew either, can scarcely understand. handkerchief waved from the cottage on Anyways, she doted upon him, and, in the hill when he set his red sails or furled deed, he on her; but there are, you know, them; and it took him, in the latter case, two kinds of affection-one which only but a short half hour to come from the cares for the happiness of its object, and pier to the porch of roses. It must have the other, which looks after its own as been a great convenience, after all, that well.” (I objected to Mrs. Aprhys' put- the old gentleman who made the third of ting the remark in this personal form, but that little company was blind ; and I gravely nodded my assent.) "She would think Aprhys would have preferred it, at

) have died to save his life, and he would one time, himself, under like circumstances. have died for grief, perhaps-afterwards. Mr. Davies soon saw or heard enough, at

“ They used to sit together in the sum- all events, to tell him that those two were mer-time under their cottage porch, which lovers, and he hardened his heart against was then, as now, a mass of round red them from that time. I believe that he roses, for he loved their beautiful perfume, was jealous of Richard Owen because he although of course their color was nothing could see, because he was young, and beto him; the lilies in the tarn close by, too, cause he was generous; and that he hated and all the wild-flowers on the hillside, him because he had divided, or stolen a


portion of his daughter's heart, which he morning, although there was no hand to wanted wholly for himself. The old man's be got to help him work his ship. And ear was keener than that of love itself to he did sail as soon as the day dawned; catch

young Richard's footfall, as he came and, for all it was so early, the whole town over the hill; and then upon his sightless was as near the beach as they durst go, face a shadow would fall, which Ellen to see him and his little crew off; and could not but see. He would never speak there was one, we may be sure, in the out about it, but would mutter: “They house on the hill, whose tearful, sleepless are waiting for my death-they wish me eyes were fastened upon the bonnie boat dead !" And she heard him, and wept more than all. She watched it for hours, bitterly. This went on for a long time, as it now lay upon its side in the heaving and the poor thing hoped and hoped; but bay, and now sank out of sight except for never, I think, had any intention of leav- the white pennant (which he had nailed to ing her old father. Richard was no tardy the mast) that shone out against the black or backward wooer, and had not much pa- water, and now rose high, as if upon a tience to be so sorely tried; and one day mountain. She saw it grow dimmer and he spoke to her boldly in the old man's dimmer, in spite of the gale, and the points presence, telling her how she was sacrific- rounded one after the other, and nearly ing herself when there was cause. into the open sea; so far had the good

For he can live with us,' he said, and ship got at last, though it scarcely seemed be tended by you, even as now; but it to move; but while it was beating up opis twelve long months that I have waited posite Hell's Mouth, and near to Bardsey for you, Ellen dear, and you are no nearer Island, she lost all sight of it for that time.

, to me now than at first. I shall come up She saw it again the same evening, alas ! to-night for your final answer, and I pray for the wind and the tide brought it back that your father's heart may be turned to- to harbor, keel uppermost.

She was wards us; but else I leave the town to- not more than twenty or so, poor girl ; morrow for good and all; and it may be, but her hair turned from that hour as you will be sorry never to see the bonnie white as it looks now. She


thin and white flag again.'

pale, but never let a word of complaint esThe old man said not a word all cape her, nor her father know how her that time, and never let go nor ceased heart had lost its hope, or her form its stroking his daughter's hand; but, when beauty; only once, when he attempted to Richard was gone,

he 80 worked

upon her condole with her, and thank her for what feelings with his piteous selfish talk, that she had done for him, and suffered for his she told him to have no further trouble for sake, she stopped him with a word or two her sake. 'I will never leave thee alone in such a tone as he never dared to draw and blind, my father,' she said, although forth from her again. She tended him my own Richard loves me so well. And hour by hour, while his feet were treading what a bitter struggle that must have the downward way, for years, and the been for her, we now know.


grave are kept alive till “When her lover came up, then, for that now by her loving hands; but her heart last time, she

him a steadfast answer,

is not buried, I think, with him at all, but although it nigh broke her heart, and it somewhere under the deep sea with her stirred his man's pride within him so, that drowned lover's. he strode away through the windy night “The old man left her very wealthy

? without so much as a good-bye.

(for these parts), which I dare say he “I well remember that same evening; thought would make up to her for all the for he came into the Leck to bid adieu to rest. Our town is quite another place in his old friends, whom he was about to consequence; and, as I told you at first, leave; and my uncle, who then kept the the poor folk whose trade is on the great inn, but had been a sailor in his youth, waters, she seems to consider as if they besought him not to think to put to sea were her own children; them that are in such tempestuous weather; for the laden with the like trouble as herself esOctober gales had set in, and the waves pecially, who have lost husband or kinsswept right over the pier-head, and made man at sea, and for whom her almshouses the very harbor unsafe. What a fine were built, she visits and cares for conbrave young fellow I thought him, when tinually; and on this day, above all—this he replied that he would sail the morrow day, thirty years ago, upon which poor


flowers upon


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