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PR 4629 D3L5

Lispings from low latitudes, or, Extract

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\A THU JOURNAL OF THE 1I0N. IMPULSIA GUSHINGTON.

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JOHN MURRAY, ALBEMARLE STREET.

1863.

PR4629 D3L5 McLennan
Dufferin and Clandeboye, Hel
Lispings from low latitudes,
or. Extracts from the journa
*71841740

LONDON : PRINTED BY WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, STAMFORD STREET,
AND CHARING CROSS.

This little Volume of Sketches, with their accompanying legend, was advertised to appear
at Christmas last. In deference to the feelings of the Author and Artist (who at that
time sustained a severe affliction), her kind Publisher has hitherto delayed its publication.

Circumstances have now induced me to sanction its appearance.

Although the contents of the Volume are of a light and humorous character, they
served an earnest purpose, in lightening the tedium and depression of long sickness in the
person of a beloved friend.

DUFFERIN.

Clandeboye,

March , 1863.

Plate I.

LISPINGS FROM LOW LATITUDES;

OR,

THE HON. IMPULSIA GUSHINGTON’S MARY.

__ rQn?i— ■ -

- ■ — ■ - —•

Plate T.

DELIGHTFUL READING.

1st January , 1861.— Another New Year’s Day ! Dear me! how
astonishingly fast they come round ; and all so like one another.
If I did not begin to perceive a few gray hairs about dear
Bijou’s muzzle, I should hardly credit the lapse of the last ten
years.

I certainly feel a little bilious this morning. This foggy time
of the year never agrees with me, and the light to-day seems to
me to cast a most unbecoming shade over the complexion.

I have been interrupted by a singularly agreeable and well-timed
visit from my valued friend and physician, Sir Merlin Merrivale.
He quite poh-pohs the notion of my being bilious, and assures
me I look younger than I have done these ten years! What a
delightful temperament he possesses! so cheerful and animated. I
think, upon the whole, that there is no profession I so sincerely
admire as the medical one. A doctor is ever a charming com¬
panion ; seeing so much of life, with such varied attainments, such
resources of scientific knowledge, how can they fail to eclipse all
other men in their powers of conversation ?

Sir Merlin tells me that he makes it a rule to read some
entertaining book in the carriage, between his professional visits.—
“ Does it on principle;—a change in the current of the ideas being
as necessary to the mind as a tide to the ocean.” How striking is
the observation, and how true ! He “ fancies that my ideas have
been running all one way for some time past, and thinks a change
would be beneficial.” I am sure he is ri^dit!

I have been trying to ascertain exactly what is the subject that
has particularly occupied my thoughts of late, but I have not come
to a satisfactory conclusion. Bijou’s asthma certainly engrosses me
at times; and the parrot’s state of health gives me much uneasi¬
ness ; but not to the exclusion of other things. Then, again, that
redness in my faithful Corkscrew’s face, which has increased so
alarmingly of late,—that has preyed upon my mind a good deal.
I ought to have spoken to Sir Merlin upon that subject. Cork¬
screw himself attributes it to a rheumatic affection, hereditary in
his family.

4 p.m .—A note from Sir Merlin,—and a book. 4 Eothen! ’ pretty

DELIGHT

name! I am to give him my opinion of the work. Sir Merlin
strongly advises me to travel. “ Travels himself pretty constantly;
always takes a little run in the holidays:—spent a week in
Otaheite last September, and thinks of a trip up the Zambesi this
autumn.” How delightful it sounds! His activity is quite in¬
spiring ; I feel an inclination to go Somewhere immediately. It
must be so beneficial to the mind.

Sir Merlin says some very striking things in this note about the
“ desirableness of making the most of our opportunities, and of
cheerfully appreciating the powers and faculties allotted to every
age.” I see he ends with a quotation:—

“ Nor from Life’s last stale dregs hope .to receive
What the first sprightly runnings could not give.”

Dryden! hum! I can’t say I admire him much. A little coarse I
should say, and certainly obscure. “Last stale dregs,”—what a
pot-housy sound it has ! And then again, “ sprightly runnings: ” of
course I understand the indirect allusion to Sir Merlin’s active
movements; but surely the words “ rapid locomotion ” would have
conveyed the meaning more clearly, and given a more elegant
turn to the expression.

2nd January. —‘ Eothen ’ is indeed a delightful book! I fell
asleep over it last night, and dreamt that, mounted on an ostrich, I
was careering over the boundless sands of Arabia with the author

——

L HEADING.

by my side! What a fascinating being he must be!—simple,
earnest, full of reverential feeling and mild enthusiasm! he has
taken complete possession of my imagination. I know by instinct
what his personal appearance must be: dark ,—with the rich
bronze of travel on his manly cheek,—wild masses of raven hair,
and flashing eyes of jet! Something Manfredy and Corsairish in
expression, perhaps,—but mellowed and softened, no doubt, by the
gentle influences of a more ornate civilization.

I wonder—does he still wander on those distant shores ? or, like
the honey-bee laden with exotic sweets, has he returned to garner
his perfumed memories in his native land—and another volume ?
If in England— where ? I gather from the book that he is still
unmarried,—if so— why ? Ah, Frolic Fancy! whither wouldst
thou stray ?

The answer from Sir Merlin just arrived! “ The author of

‘ Eothen 9 is not dark, and he is married.”

4 o'clock p.m. —I have been reading a page or two of my favourite
poet, Moore. What beautiful lines those are,—

“ ’T was ever thus : since childhood’s hour,” &c.

Mem. —Moore infinitely superior to Dryden! Far deeper know¬
ledge of the human heart.

Plate II.

Half-past 4. — The parrot has had another fit! This weather
surely exercises a malign influence on us all ?

Minikin (my attached personal attendant) thinks with Sir Merlin
that travel would do me good. She recommends Margate.

5 p.m .—A delightful thought has struck me; it has positively
illumined the blank of existence ! Why should I not follow in the
glowing footsteps of * Eotlien’ ? why should I not bask in the rays
of Eastern suns, and steep my drooping spirits in the reviving
influences of their magical mirages ?

The idea was an inspiration! I instantly rang for my faithful
Minikin, and bade her prepare for Eastern travel at the shortest
notice. That excellent creature, Corkscrew, shall also attend

me;—with these well-tried and trusty domestics about me, I shall
not dread the wrench from old associations; familiar faces can
make any land a home. Dear little Bijou! neither shall you be
left behind.

I have been endeavouring to revive faint recollections of a long-
vanished past. I know that—when a little child of five summers—
I accompanied my honoured parents to some bathing establishment
on the coast of France (’twas the first and last time I ever quitted
my native land). I cannot recollect its name or situation,—but
this broken link in memory’s chain adds a tender pleasure to the
zest of foreign travel. Dear, dear “ Abroad! ” your image is hence¬
forth connected with the memory of my sainted parents, whose
portraits seem to bend from their frames, and to smile in mild
approval of my determination.

^‘ r ii*;t r:?:^r • .y~

The attached creature packs up tier own best bonnet,—and meditates profoundly on the subject of

travelling board-wages.

Plate III.

MRS. MINIKIN.

All is prepared for departure. I have purchased a serviceable
little hat, of a fashionable shape, which is really not unbecoming.
I regret to say that my last moments in my native country have
been saddened by a most painful interview with my poor faithful
Corkscrew! Yesterday evening, whilst occupied with ray own
little preparations for the journey, he desired to see me. On
entering, I observed that he seemed agitated. He began at once
by observing that he understood I was about to travel in Egypt;
and that, to prevent unpleasantnesses, he made bold to inquire if
he should be expected to black his own boots on the journey ? I
own that this contingency had not occurred to me, and I hesitated
to reply. Seeing my confusion, he proceeded to remark, with some
asperity of manner, that he understood, from a gentleman’s gentle¬
man of his acquaintance, who knew the place, that there was a
good deal of going up rivers, in native boats called “ Dabyers ,”—
that he begged to know “ whether he should find a proper pantry
and steward’s room on board these here ‘ dabyers; ’ and above all,
whether or not there would be a * second table ’ in the servants’
hall ? ” A dreadful sense of the privations we might all be sub¬
jected to, rushed across my mind,—but it was a duty I owed to
13

Corkscrew and to myself to face the realities of travel, however
painful, and to state the exact truth. “ Corkscrew! ” I said,
“pantries I am not prepared to promise or deny; but, as to * second
tables,’ I fear that there may be sometimes a difficulty in furnish¬
ing sufficient materials for a first! we may occasionally have
little to put on it, save a haunch of crocodile, or a dozen pelican’s
eggs!”

The excellent creature stood aghast! There was a painful pause.
At length he said in thick and husky accents—“ Miss Gushington,
Ma’am! for fifteen years have I drunk—that is—kept your wines”
(the poor fellow in his agitation marie this curious mistake)—" I
shall never drink—I mean—take care of them no more! I m well
aware, Ma’am, "that service is no inheritance, and you’ll please to
consider this as a warning, being a respectable man, Ma’am, that
has lived in your service, man and boy, this fifteen year, and I shall
expect two months’ warning, or two months wages, board ditto
likewise; but as to going a wild-goose chase in a ‘ dabyer, without
so much as a regular wine-cellar, let alone pantry, among pelicans
and crocodiles, it isn’t to be done, Ma’am! no, not if Queen Victoria

MRS. MINIKIN.

lierself was to go down on her bare bended knees to ask me! ”
The faithful creature spoke so incoherently and indistinctly,—his
discourse running to vowel in so singular a manner,—that I was
quite terrified, especially as I perceived that he could hardly stand
upright. I really anticipated an apoplectic fit, I begged him to
be calm, and not to worry himself,—that I couldn’t hear of his
leaving my service,—and that I would arrange that he should

remain in charge of the house in Brook-street. It would indeed
have been madness to part with this attached and faithful retainer,
for so trivial a cause as his refusal to accompany me on my
pilgrimage ! My good Minikin will be more than sufficient cha¬
peron, and in her sympathizing services I shall lose my present
sense of deprivation. I can easily procure a dragoman at Alex¬
andria.

—

Plate IV.

THE P. AND O. STEAMER.

After a hurried journey to Marseilles, we are safe on board the
P. and O. boat. I was less affected at the last view of Albion’s
white cliffs than I had anticipated. Perhaps the little worries and
annoyances attendant on the transportation of a certain number of
trunks, boxes, and portmanteaux, are providentially calculated to
dimmish the poignancy of our natural grief on these occasions; but
1 had worked myself into quite a nervous state beforehand, dwelling
on the probabilities of my experiencing a burst of uncontrollable
emotion at the moment of leaving my native land. I can hardly
explain to myself how I came to omit it.

Cingalese nurses and Malay attendants. The babies cry a good
deal, but nobody seems to mind it. Captain Weatherbow has
just presented himself to me; ho “ hoped I bad a comfortable berth
on board,—was sure I would prove a good sailor,” &c. A very
pleasing, animated personage! He realizes my idea of what Christo¬
pher Columbus must have been; full of dash and daring: I think I
have an instinctive attraction towards members of his profession, so
open-hearted, frank, and free-spoken! as companions, none are
superior to them.

The day is bright, cheerful, breezy! My spirit partakes of the
general exhilaration such an animated and novel scene is likely to
produce. The passengers seem numerous and respectable. A
good many languid-looking ladies are reclining on their respective
bamboo chaise-longues, attended by hovering ayahs in muslin veils
and silver bangles. These, I understand, are the wives of officials
in India, returning from pleasant episodical visits in England to
their Eastern homes. As a general rule, I should say their
countenances are somewhat repellant, and their complexions pasty.

There is a large sprinkling ol babies, and a certain proportion of
17

I have been watching Captain Weatherbow for some time; he
really seems ubiquitous: at one moment he is tenderly wrapping a
shawl round an invalid lady’s feet, on the lee-side; in a second he
is perched on the bridge, answering a hail from a passing steamer,
with the voice of fwenty trumpets. Now, he is acting umpire on
the Italian question in a sharp discussion between a Mazzinist and a
French commis voyageur; and now he is deep in an argument on
Election and Free Will, with a Presbyterian missionary going out
to be eaten at Tongataboo. Just now he was handing a lame
gentleman down the companion,—and here he is picking up one of
the loose babies that has tumbled against the binnacle, and rubbing

—

THE P. AND

its fat knees “ to make the place well.” Evidently a man of large
sympathies, and versatile genius!

5 o'clock. —Dinner-time. We have a little ground-swell; nothing
to speak of. I have never clearly understood why the smell of
cabbage should be the most penetrating and persistent of all odours
on board ship.

—Minikin and I have thought it best to seek the retirement
of the ladies’ cabin. A most attentive and obliging steward assures

O. STEAMER.

me, “ upon his honour,” that, so far from being rough, the sea is
positively “ like a glue-pot,”—yet even he appears to find some
difficulty in keeping his equilibrium !

Mem.—Rovr different are the estimates which custom enables
persons to—

[There is here an abrupt hiatus in the MS.— Note by the
Editor.]

... .... ... t&jjm

Plate V.

ARRIVAL AT ALEXANDRIA.

15 th January .—A terrible blow has fallen on me, at a time
when my whole soul was expanding with delight under the novel
influences of this delightful Oriental scene. Minikin, my faithful
Minikin, refuses to accompany me further!

On landing from the steamer, we were instantly surrounded by
large herds of donkeys, and their picturesque attendants, who
assured us, in broken English, that no other mode of convey¬
ance to the town was forthcoming. I was cheerfully preparing to
mount, when I was startled by a fearful shriek from Minikin,
caused by an attempt on the part of one of the donkey-men to lift
her into the saddle. Administering an energetic blow with her
muff in the face of the offending individual, she exclaimed in
piercing, agitated accents— a That she had been already put upon
more than she had ever ought to abear; that she never had had no
idea of what she had had to undergo through with; but as to
donkeys—never! Donkeys was all very well in their proper place
—Tghgate or ’Ampstead; but the line must be drawn somewhere.
That for her part, nothing should induce her to demean herself
by riding into a respectable town on one of them ’ere ridiculous
animals, with one of them bare-legged cannibals a hanging on by
21

his tail! no, not if she knowed it! ” In short, she gave me
warning on the spot, and expressed her determination to return
to England by the next steamer. My own lonely situation struck
cold upon my heart—thus left, stranded as it were, and desolate,
among my boxes, on a foreign shore. But I also felt a profound
pity for the unfortunate Minikin, and, paying her return passage,
I begged her to make herself as comfortable as she could, and
directed her to rejoin my excellent Corkscrew in Brook Street,
there to await my return. Attached servants are such real trea¬
sures !—trifles should never induce one lightly to deprive oneself
of the inestimable comfort of their affectionate ministerings.

1 6th January .—A most fortunate occurrence in the course of
yesterday afternoon restored me to that tranquillity of mind which
my poor Minikin’s desertion had greatly disturbed. Winding my
solitary way through the narrow streets of Alexandria, attended by
several self-constituted Arab guardians, who had apportioned my
boxes between them, at the rate of two donkeys to each box, which
I am told is "the usual arrangement,—bewildered by the unac¬
customed crowd and noise, deafened by the shouts of my attendants,
half crushed on one side by a mule laden with huge water-jars,

ARRIVAL AT

and narrowly escaping annihilation on the other from a string
of camels carrying several hundredweights of hewn stone on their
backs—I suddenly heard myself accosted by name, and in good
English, by a friendly, cheerful voice, proffering assistance. It
proved to be that of Mr. H. T., one of the princely merchants of *
Alexandria, who had heard of my arrival; and having been

ALEXANDRIA.

informed of my present uncomfortable and unprotected condition,
had thus kindly come forward to rescue me from it. I am even
now under his pleasant and friendly roof, where I am to continue
during the short period of my sojourn in Alexandria. What
an invaluable guide and counsellor in this outset of my pil¬
grimage !

Plate VI.

DIMITRI.

17 th January . — I have been fully occupied in seeing Dragomen,
as such attendants are called. All the comfort of my voyage up
the Nile will depend upon the efficiency of this person; it is
therefore necessary to use extra caution and prudence in my
choice.

Mr. T. recommends me to take a respectable Maltese of liis
acquaintance ; rather a humdrum, vulgar countenance! I confess
I am an ardent believer in physiognomy: I am much influenced
by that nameless instinct of attraction, or repulsion, which the
sensitive temperament possesses, and perceives, in its communion
with other beings on a first meeting. Francisco’s face repels me.
His character is excellent, I know; his certificates represent him
as most faithful and conscientious; but then, that long upper lip!
that contracted forehead ! surely, in the constant guide and
attendant on such a journey, one requires something beyond the
mere vulgar virtues which would recommend a London butler.
One asks some spark of the etherial fire of poetry! some of the
energy of genius and romantic daring! I have just seen a person
who unites these characteristics in a peculiar degree. I think he
will suit me exactly. He is a Greek; his name, Dimitri; a noble¬
looking being, in full Albanian costume. He realizes my notion of
what Lord Byron must have been, in the first flush of his romantic

manhood. I think I see a certain degree of narrow prejudice in
Mr. T.’s mind; he does not seem to share my predilection for the
noble Grecian people, and even expressed a positive antipathy to
Dimitri. Some foolish story exists, which weighs more than it
ought with Air. T.—a report that Dimitri had killed and eaten his
last master, on an unfortunate journey to Khartum, w r hen pro¬
visions unexpectedly ran short; such a self-evident calumny! That
grand head,—that classic profile is a sufficient guarantee of its
falsehood! As he stood before me, in a fine martial attitude,
leaning on an arm-chair, as though it had been a “sounding
shield,” I could not help fancying that, to a poet’s or a painter's
eye, we might have sat for Dido and iEneas! Dear little
Bijou seems to have taken an unconquerable prejudice against
him.

To-day I remove to Cairo. I grieve to enter the “ Victorious
City ” in so tame and prosaic a conveyance as a railroad carriage:
alas! where are the caravans from Mecca, the merchants from
Baghdad, the princes disguised as camel-drivers, that my imagina¬
tion had promised itself? Where, oh where, are the Jinns and
Afreets, the tomb-haunting ghouls, and mahogany-faced magicians
of my dreams? The shriek of the locomotive has scared the
delightful phantoms away for ever!

Plate VII.

THE TABLE D’HOTE, CAIRO.

18*A January. — The charm of my delightful pilgrimage increases
hourly: on the short but interesting railroad journey between
Alexandria and Cairo, I found myself in contact with a singularly
pleasing Scotch family—the MacFishys of that Ilk. We entered
into conversation, and soon found that our mutual impressions
of the shifting scene around, assimilated in a really remarkable
manner. On arriving at Shepherd’s Hotel (a colossal caravanserai
in the lovely Esbekieh Gardens) I joined their party at the
table-d’liote, and we have agreed to continue daily companions.
Unprotected as I am, and in some measure unused to battle with
the hostile array of unforeseen contingencies, the protection of Mr.
MacFishy, and the companionship of his amiable wife and daughter,
are advantages for which I cannot be too grateful. The husband
is silent and abstracted, but with much of the dry and “ pawkie ”
humour of his country. He recalls to my mind some of those
delightful characters that figure on the graphic page of the Great
Northern Magician. Richard Monyplies and Bailie .Tarvie come
with irresistible force to my recollection as I gaze upon his astute
29

yet benignant countenance: Mrs. MacFishy is a most excellent,
motherly creature,—perhaps not refined in appearance or manners,
but full of good humour and kindliness.

I own that, in my present mood, the conventional elegancies of
what is called in the world’s jargon “good society ,” have lost much
of their potent influence;—worth, goodness, a certain spice of
refreshing originality, combined with intellectual superiority,
strength of will, and a dash of boldness, have a singular power to
rivet the imagination and fill the mind. These qualities combine
to render Mr. Andrew MacFishy, junior, a very delightful com¬
panion. Without much regularity of feature, or height of stature,
his appearance is nevertheless singularly prepossessing. The nose
is slightly “ retrousse; ” the eye, lively, and, as it were, conquering
in expression; there is a general air of self-reliance, and readiness
to meet all emergencies, in his appearance; the contour of the
head is remarkably bold and resolute; the hair, of that bright,
energetic hue called “ Highland red,” which I own I think charac-

THE TABLE

teristic and becoming, lie has hitherto devoted his very superior
talents to the study of that great palladium of our liberties—the
law. Young as he is, he already writes himself TYaS'.— or “ Writer
to the Signet,”—a place of great trust, I am told, in the Scottish
legal ranks. Altogether, he is a very remarkable young man, and
realizes in some degree my idea of the Cid.

His sister Euphemia is the least attractive figure in the family-
group ; but she is a very estimable young person, and perfectly
inoffensive. I think I may consider myself wonderfully fortunate

D’HOTE, GAlliO.

in having accidentally fallen in with souls so kindred in theii
aspirations,—so delightfully attuned to my own peculiar organi¬
zation !

I continue to like my dragoman Dimitri. He is certainly a most
effective attendant. Perhaps he is not so actively useful as I had
at first anticipated,-—but his attitudes are so picturesque, his whole
demeanour so gallant, daring, and spirited—in repose, that I have
no doubt of his proving the most valuable acquisition, when
circumstances arise to call forth his latent energies.

Plate VIII.

THE INDIAN MAIL.

20 th January .—A most annoying incident lias interrupted the
easy tenour of my present existence: yesterday morning, Mr.
Shepherd—the obliging proprietor of this fine hotel—stopped me
as I was going an airing with the MacFishy family, and, in a
rather constrained and nervous manner, hinted that I should do
wisely in locking my bedroom door carefully that night, “ as the
Indian Mail was duel This mysterious, and indeed inexplicable
warning, fluttered me a good deal, and I requested an explanation.

“ Well, Miss Gushington, ,, said he, “ the fact is, the passengers from
Suez are generally a roughish lot, and, whether there’s room or not,
they WILL sleep somewhere l ” “ Good gracious! ” I exclaimed ; ‘

“ you don’t mean to say, Mr. Shepherd, that they would intrude
on the privacy of my apartment ? ” " Lord bless you, Miss ! ” he
replied, “ they're no ways particular; it would make no odds to them
your sleeping in the same room ; so, if the lock of your door is not
made pretty secure, they’re as likely as not to intrude on your
privacy. I thought I’d just give you a hint. You see they’re from
shipboard, Miss: they’ve been sleeping in one another’s pockets
for weeks past! They’re not a bit squeamish about privacy, and
that kind of thing.”

I am certain I must have turned as white as marble (I felt as
cold and deathlike) on hearing these terrible words. I pictured
to myself a horde of these devastating barbarians bursting into our
33

quiet chambers, and pitching their bandit bundles among our
peaceful portmanteaux. I spent the day in nervous apprehension:
at night, after vainly endeavouring to persuade Euphemia MacFishy,
who laughed at my fears, to share my apartment, I retired to it
with a beating heart. I bolted and barred the door as effectually
as I could, and lay down in breathless apprehension that precluded
slumber. However, the hours passed away without interruption,
and, I suppose, the silence and apparent security of my position
lulled my fluttered nerves into repose.

I slept at length; I must have slept, for I was lost in a rosy
dream of pathless deserts, studded with lovely smiling oases of
verdure, o’er which tall feathery palms stretched their columnar
shadows, and sparkling fountains bubbled up from the golden
sands to meet the traveller’s thirsty lip. One only companion
ranged the wild beside me; my mind is confused as to his
identity,—still I say his , because I have a shadowy impression
of a neat pork-pie hat in connection with the vision, such as
Mr. Andrew MacF. habitually wears. Suddenly a thunder-bolt
seemed to fall from the treacherous blue vault above us; the
palm-trees crashed around me,—the fountain sprang fifty feet into
the air, and deluged me with its cold showers—and—I woke! to
see the dreadful picture that had haunted my day realized in all
its horrors!

THE INDIAN MAIL.

Two desperate-looking wretches, with travelling-bags in their
hands, and shawls about their heads, had burst all the bolts which
had constituted my fancied security. I stayed not to contemplate
them; with the shriek of a startled fawn * I sprang from my
pillow, and, catching up the first loose garment that presented itself,
rushed from my desecrated chamber.

The next day, when order was restored, and these barbarian
hordes had departed by the early train, I was describing to the
MacFishys my dreadful situation, shivering all night on the stone
staircase, without so much as a blanket to cover me; when Mr.
Andrew MacF. amusingly remarked, that, “ being Feme Sole , I
had no right to plead couverturer I did not at first quite compre¬
hend the drift of this observation; but when he had explained the
meaning of the legal terms, I enjoyed it amazingly.

* This expression refers to a fact in natural history which the Editor has not j
yet had an opportunity of verifying.

He has, indeed, delightful spirits, and a ready wit, which con¬
stantly enlivens us with its brilliant corruscations.

It is singular that I had never hitherto appreciated at their real
value the powers and faculties which render legal men, perhaps,
the most agreeable companions in the world. The highly deve¬
loped acuteness of observation, the knowledge of the human heart,
which they necessarily acquire in the progress of their professional
avocations, when combined with great original powers of intellect,
of course form a remarkable whole. Having hitherto associated
with but one member of this distinguished profession (my lamented
father’s family solicitor, old Mr. Twiddletape), I had formed no idea
of their claims on our regard and admiration.

I am called away to visit the Bazaar with my agreeable
friends.

Plate IX

Dimitri's last “ Pose.” The Artist—in the impossibility of depicting Miss Gushington’s feelings—follows the example of the
celebrated Tiraanthes, wlio painted King Agamemnon under very similar circumstances.

..mi..

Plate IX.

DIMITRI'S LAST POSE.

21 st January .—A dreadful blow has fallen on me ; with cir¬
cumstances of such aggravated horror, that, for a season, Reason
tottered on her throne. I pause to compose my shattered nerves, and
will endeavour to relate the facts with calmness and resignation.

For some time back I had begun to fear that Dimitri's moral
qualities did not quite come up to the standard which his splendid
physique had led me to expect. His “poses” were certainly
magnificent; quite statuesque ; in fact, the Apollo Belvedere could
not have handed a plate with greater grace and dignity. But,
alas! there is truth in the French proverb—

“ On aime & faire ce qu’on fait bien : n

Dimitri was evidently so conscious of the grandeur of his attitudes
in repose, that he avoided all occasions of disturbing them by
work of any description. Moreover, I own I consider cleanliness
quite indispensable in one's personal attendant, but Dimitri’s habits
could not be said to realize that idea. Indeed, on one occasion,
when, fearing to hurt his sensitive feelings, I ventured to hint, in the
most delicate manner, that his hands would be the better of a slight
ablution; he replied,—that when I had seen a little more of Eastern
travel (and, indeed, of life in general), I should discover that water
was far too valuable an element to be wasted in so frivolous a
manner. That he himself had been to Khartum and back on half
rations of that fluid, and that for four or five months the duties
of his toilette had consisted of a dry-rub with a handful of sand.

This was not all; Mr. Andrew MacF., having kindly taken on
himself the examination of Dimitri’s little weekly accounts, dis¬
covered that during my stay in Egypt I had been paying for
donkeys at the rate of elephants. I still hope and believe that this
was merely the result of ignorance of the tariff in these matters,
and not a positive want of integrity, though the abstraction of
some s minor articles of dress, and the unexplained disappearance
of my purse on one particular occasion, certainly had, what Mr.

Andrew jocosely termed, “ a fishy look,” and what I cannot but
denominate a doubtful appearance.

But these are nothings compared with the horrible event I have
to record.

My beloved Bijou, the playful companion of my travels—the
only link between me and home—had been intrusted to Dimitri’s
charge; he had orders to conduct it to its morning and evening
promenade. I had been warned of the ferocious nature of the
indigenous dogs; I had repeatedly recommended the greatest
caution and discretion on the subject. Alas ! in vain. Yesterday
morning they went forth together,—one alone returned. How can
I relate the dreadful details ? Dimitri stood before me in the atti¬
tude of Ulysses relating his shipwreck to the Princess Nausicaa.
His hands contained the last relics of my beloved Bijou; the ears
and tail alone remained to tell that terrible story. I was alone !
Need I say that Dimitri fled from the spectacle of my despair ?
need I say that that flight was permanent ?

28 th January .—After the dreadful event recorded in the last
page of my journal, I remained for some time in a kind of stupor,
from which neither the kind attentions of my good friend Mrs.
MacFishy, nor the lively sallies of Mr. Andrew, could at first avail
to rouse me. After a time, however, I was prevailed upon to face
the future, and I agreed to accompany them on the projected
voyage up the Nile, which we had previously contemplated.

Dare I whisper to my own heart that for the first time since our
acquaintance I felt a shade of disappointment in the amount of
sympathy these otherwise excellent friends afforded me? No
doubt grief is apt to make us querulous and unjust; but surely Mr.
Andrew might have refrained from talking of the “ Dements of
our departed friend” (speaking of the ‘ Galignani’s Messenger’
in which the poor remains of my dear Bijou had been consigned
to earth); calling the catastrophe “a Sirius affair;” lamenting

DIMITRI’S LAST POSE.

“ that we had not used a para-dogs , as the only argumentum ad
canem ,” &c. &c., and other remarks of a light and jesting nature.
Miss Euphemia, too, I overheard speaking in what I consider an
unfeeling tone of the “ sin of making this awfu’ stramash about a
bit brute beast, when we wad be better employed bewailing the
iniquities of this heathen land, and striving to awaken the puir
demented inhabitants to a sense of their danger.”

I heard her brother reply in his light way, that he was “ only
waiting for a bran new coat, which he had ordered out from Eng¬
land, of superfine sackcloth, turned up with ashes, in which to
address a meeting of the Caireen parishioners on the subject.”

Mrs. MacFisliy is always good-humoured and friendly, but she is
subject to fits of abstraction of a singular nature, which usually
come on towards evening. I think the climate oppresses her: I
heard her answer a simple question quite incoherently the other
day after an early dinner.

Mr. MacFishy is never very communicative, and of late has
been wholly occupied with preparations for our voyage. I agreed
at once to all the provisions of a little contract which Mr. Andrew
has drawn up with friendly celerity and professional acumen, as to
the terms on which I should become a member of their party up
the Nile. They undertake all the trouble of the arrangements,
and assign to me a nice little cabin, about six feet long and two
wide, in which (with a little contrivance) I have made myself pretty
comfortable. In return for these advantages, I pay in advance half
the expenses of the hire of the dahabieh, or boat, as well as half
the cost of the daily expenditure.

I consider this truly liberal on their parts, as, although they are a
numerous party and I am alone, the emancipation from all pecuniary
disputes and worries, to which I have a natural aversion, and the
comfort and respectability of such efficient protection, render it
to me a most satisfactory arrangement. We have all laughingly
agreed to a clause which Mr. MacFishy has added, to the effect
that whoever tires of the voyage, and separates voluntarily from
the party, must forfeit his or her share of the expenses.

Poor Corkscrew! when I look at our floating home, I cannot
help smiling at the idea of the luxuries Tie could not dispense with!

Pantries, servants’ halls, second tables! How fortunate it is that
38

I did not expose him to the numerous little inconveniences of
Egyptian travelling!

Our boat is in fact a raft , with a one-storied cottage on it.

“ Forward,” as it is technically called,—or, as I should describe
it,—in the little front yard before the cottage door,—the Arab
sailors sit and row the boat; there also they eat, drink, sing, sleep,
say their prayers, and often throttle each other.

“ Aftf —or, as I should say, behind ,—you descend one step into
the cottage parlour; opposite you is the door into a passage which
runs to the stem, and on each side of this are our little cells or
cabins. They are all very small, including the parlour; but then
we have the top of our house for a pleasant promenade, with an
awning and benches ; here we spend the day, enjoy the deli¬
cious breeze, watch the Arabs at their oars, count the wild geese
flying over our heads, or the cranes standing meditatively on the
muddy shallows. We often run aground, but we get off again,
with much cursing and swearing on the part of the rais (or cap¬
tain), a fine prophetic-looking man, who quite realizes my idea of
Balaam. We run permanently aground for the night, as near a
village as we can, for the convenience of buying goat’s milk, eggs,
and pigeons.

Then all the women in the village come down to fill their water-
jars, and to stare in at our windows, and all the dogs come down to
bark at us. Then the boatmen begin their songs, and eat their
dried dates and nasty messes, and soon after the throttling com¬
mences, and sometimes continues far into the night.

Such is the tenour of our existence. The scene is ever spirit-
stirring and suggestive, and I enjoy my present life more than I
can say, in spite of the slight inconveniences of my little sleeping
apartment, the narrow dimensions of which have caused some
trifling accidents: such as my putting my head through the
window-pane in the act of turning round in bed, and finding
my foot in the water-jug on waking yesterday morning. The 4
only drawback to my pleasurable feelings is witnessing the pecu¬
liar effect of the climate on poor Mrs. MacFishy, which I have
before alluded to, and which appears to me to increase the farther
we remove from Cairo: it takes the form of a sort of stupor,
attended occasionally by light delirium.

Plate X.

THE PYRAMIDS.

30^ January .—I am in the presence of the Pyramids! This
thought dwarfs into insignificance every other impression. How
shall I describe the flood of sensations that almost overwhelmed
my soul, when I reflected that forty centuries contemplated us,
from-, &c. &e.

[The Editor has thought it most advisable, for typographical
and other reasons, to suppress the description of Miss Gushington’s
feelings on this remarkable occasion, although the passage is
certainly one of the finest in the whole narrative. It was em¬
phasized by so many dashes, that it would have been simpler to print
the whole in italics; it bristled with notes of admiration and inter¬
rogation ; it was eminently periphrastic, and contained a quantity
of judicious observations that have been occasionally made before.
Lastly, it was illustrated by seventy-three metaphors of a mixed
character. This is the less surprising, as we have it on the word of
another great female authority, that “ allegory ” has its habitat
“ on the banks of the Nile.” Altogether it was a work of great
research.]

Continuation of Journal.

Although my friends did not appear as much inpressed as I was
myself by the sublime spectacle before us, and indeed expressed
some dissatisfaction with the general appearance of the Pyramids,
still there was no lack of archaeological disquisition. Mr. Andrew
observed that the Pharaohs must have been “ jolly old cocks,” and
were evidently cognizant “ of a thing or two.” Miss Euphemia
demurred to this proposition on moral and religious grounds.
Euphemia is apt to show asperity in argument, so I thought it best
41

to refrain from offering an opinion. Good 31 rs. MacFishy was too
much absorbed in the preparations for luncheon to take any lively
interest in the subject: and her husband, overcome by the heat of
the day, was wrapped in peaceful slumbers.

Some picturesque Arabs—one of whom exactly embodied my
notion of what Abd-el-Kader must be—grouped themselves around
us, watching with friendly but unobtrusive interest the develop¬
ment of the luncheon-basket. They are a truly sympathetic
people, and show the most intelligent appreciation of our man¬
ners and customs—and all belonging to us.

Three silver spoons disappeared in the most unaccountable
manner towards the end of the repast. It was distressing to me
in the extreme, as I feared that our amiable and picturesque
visitants might fancy that their honour was called in question by
the occurrence; indeed I regret to say that my companions were
not noble-minded enough to repel the unworthy suspicion. They
even insisted on searching one of the Arabs who was in closer
propinquity than the rest. The others proudly and hastily withdrew.

The 6poons have not been recovered.

Mr. Andrew MacFishy persists in asserting his belief that Abd-
el-Kader had swallowed them.

Keturning from Gizeh, we fell in with a large party of strangers
who had also been visiting the colossal marvels. It proved to
be a company of English travellers, amongst whom Mr. Andrew

THE PYRAMIDS.

pointed out to my observation Lord D-n, the^author of a work

of much profound research, and painful erudition, on the manners
and customs of the Icelanders, and other inhabitants of the icy
regions, which he visited not long ago.

His Lordship was accompanied by his celebrated valet, W-n,

who is supposed to have assisted him in the more abstruse portions

of his valuable work. On the present occasion Mr. W-n

(whom I looked at with much interest) certainly presented a
remarkable appearance. His costume united the characteristics of
the holy Hermit and the bold Buccaneer. A large mantle and
cowl covered the head and upper portion of his figure, which termi¬
nated in jack-boots and large spurs. He was profusely decorated
with pistols and other small arms, and was mounted on a gaunt
white steed, which paced solemnly along under its distinguished
burden. The most singular adjunct to his costume and general
appearance, was a couple of human skulls, evidently selected from
the debris of rifled mummy-cases, which abound in this locality,—
one of which he carried under each arm. I noticed that these sup¬
plementary heads had a livelier expression of countenance than
his own. Altogether his appearance was peculiarly awful and
apocalyptic.

On our way back to the river, and our floating home, I could not
help observing to Mr. Andrew, who rode by my side, that I doubted
the propriety of thus appropriating loose skulls, and articles of that
sort, which must surely be considered private property, if any¬
thing deserves that denomination! Mr. Andrew asserted, on the
contrary, that a man had only “ a life interest in his own head,
which ceased and determined the moment he ceased to have any

further use for it.” Legal men are such casuists, and Mr. Andrew
is such a profound logician, that I feared to engage in any argu¬
ment on the subject; but I own I entered a silent protest against
his view of the matter. Reason and feeling alike revolt from such
a notion. If I were ever so much embalmed or mummified, I con¬
sider that no lapse of time could invalidate the right I claim to my
own head; nor can I conceive how any other human being would
be benefited by its possession.

This conversation left a painful impression upon my mind. The
shades of evening had begun to close around us ; the melancholy
cry of the prowling jackals echoed across the sandy wastes, over
which our jaded horses picked their way in semi-darkness. My
companions were tired, and, I think, disposed to be a little querulous
and irritable; Mrs. MacFishy was more than usually affected by
the enervating influence of this climate.

A painful suspicion has occasionally crossed my mind with
regard to her condition ; but I repel it with all my strength ; it
must be fancy!

I suppose that fatigue, and these uncomfortable reflections, com¬
bined to produce the melancholy mood in which I returned from
our otherwise delightful excursion, and from which all Mr.
Andrew’s jocose observations failed to rally me. On retiring to
my couch, I had a very remarkable dream: methought I presided
in mummy costume at a gloomy board, in a sort of Oriental
Wallialla, and that Mr. Wilson and Mrs. MacFishy pledged each
other in sparkling mead, which they chunk from the skulls of
their enemies.

Plate XT.

A CHEERFUL PlCNTC IN KlNG R0WDED0W8ES 1IIS TOMB.

Mrs. MacFisliy’s bonnet assumes tlie most erratic positions.

Plate XI.

THE TOMB OF KING ROWDEDOWSES THE FIFTY-SEVENTH.

8 th February .— We arc at Thebes. Some days have elapsed
since I entered anything in my journal. It has been a time of
mingled happiness and misery. On the one hand, I have been
constantly charmed and excited by the interest of the marvels we
have an opportunity of visiting; on the other, I am as constantly
subdued and saddened by the increasing evidences of Mi's. Mac-
1 isliy s awful infirmity. Alas ! 1 can no longer hide from myself
the fact, that she is almost always in a state of inebriety. How
I could so long be blind to this circumstance astonishes me when
I reflect on the past, and yet it ought not to surprise me, since
I perceive that her own family are apparently still unconscious
of the dreadful fact. I know not what course to pursue; some¬
times I resolve to speak to some member of the family on the
subject; at other moments I shrink from the responsibility of
rudely tearing the veil from their eyes; it is such a delicate matter
to touch upon!

To-day we visited the far-famed Necropolis of Thebes, after first
paying homage at the feet of those world-wonders, the so-called
Memnonian Colossi. What stupendous reflections do these grand
forms call up in the thoughtful mind! Thousands of harvests
have sprung and ripened at their feet, while these mute guardians
ot the fertile plain have watched with stony eyes the revolving
glories of, &c.

[The Editor has again taken the liberty of curtailing the
eloquent expression of Miss Grushington s admiration for Egyptian
art. Her enthusiasm has perhaps carried her too far in the last
45

passage ; the statues in question having little or no face left, the
expression “ stony eyes ” is more poetical than appropriate.]

Journal continued.

After a hurried glance at magnificent Medinet Habu, which
I trust I may have an opportunity of seeing in detail upon our
return, we mounted our steeds, and set off for the Necropolis.
Accustomed as I am to associate with that name the chaste and
mournful elegance of our suburban cemeteries, I was at first
somewhat disappointed in the aspect of the place,—a sandstone
hill, burrowed in every direction by deceased monarchy But the
interior of these tombs repays the visitor for the trouble, and
sometimes the difficulty, of exploring them, being full of interest,
and curious paintings, and bats.

We picnicked in the entrance of a tomb, that of King
Rowdedowses the Fifty-seventh, of the 18th Dynasty, a person (I
believe) highly deseiving of the interest and respect he inspires
amongst those historians to whom his virtues and exploits are
well known.

In spite of the efforts of Mr. Andrew to enliven our party, it
was not as cheerful as might have been expected in such a locality.
Mrs. MacFishy was, I regret to say, decidedly “ elevated” very
early in the afternoon; her daughter, Euphemia, startled us
continually by the most fearful shrieks, occasioned by the fitful
visits of some large insect of the moth kind, which infests these

THE TOMB OF KING KOWDEDOWSES THE FIFTY-SEVENTH.

tombs, and which—Mr. Andrew assured us—is called hy natural¬
ists the Be-he moth. Moreover, we had occasion for even graver
alarm, in the midst of the repast, on Mr. MacFishy’s suddenly
turning pale, and solemnly assuring us that he had reason to
believe ho was actually sitting on a scorpion ! Most fortunately it
proved to be the sting of a less venomous creature, painful, but
not dangerous.

The aspect of Mrs. MacFishy’s bonnet, turned completely round
over her left ear, made it impossible for me to enjoy, as I should
otherwise have done, the glorious spectacle that met our view on
descending from the hill of tombs:—Gourneh, gleaming like a
dropped jewel at the feet of the hills; Luxor’s sparkling obelisks
and minarets across the calm river, which flowed by, dyed deep
in every tint of rose and crimson, under the slant rays of the
westering sun; and fairer than all, glorious Ivarnak! a maze of
golden columns and feathery palms, melting and fading like a
dream into the purple haze of evening.

10 th February .—Yesterday I was singularly favoured by For¬
tune. The wind being adverse, we were prevented from con¬
tinuing our voyage. The MacFishy family being disinclined to
undertake any expedition,—I seized on the golden opportunity,
and, under the sole guidance of that “ Learned Theban ” Dr.
S—th, the celebrated American “ Savant ”—whose acquaintance
we have been fortunate enough to make here,—I paid another
visit to the “Valley of the Kings.” Under these delightful
auspices I surveyed its wonders in the extatic spirit which the
interesting locality is calculated to inspire.

With what a thirsty ear did I drink in the overflow of Dr.
S—til’s capacious mind! He is indeed what the French call
“ un puits de science,”—and I trust I imbibed largely from its
unfathomable depths.

I consulted him in my great and increasing perplexity as to
the right orthography of Arabic proper names,—and, in the
kindest manner, -he volunteered his assistance in correcting my
journal.

Gourneh , he tells me, is the mere vulgar mispronunciation;—
the initial letter is, in fact, a sound which none but the Lineal
Descendants of the Prophet can articulate! What an interesting
fact! It took great hold of my imagination, and Dr. S—th
and I soon lost ourselves in the maze of metaphysical and political
speculations it was calculated to suggest. We remarked on the in¬
estimable benefit such an indisputable proof of Divine Eight would
confer on the Eoyal Families of Europe! No sovereign—possessing
this magic “ open Sesame ” to the affections of his people—could
fear revolution. In any question of disputed prerogative,—on any
symptom of disaffection,—he would merely need to lean with
stronger emphasis on the Eoyal Guttural, or Dynastic Diphthong!
it would act like a spell on the national mind.

I pursued this theme with natural enthusiasm ; I observed how
advantageous this circumstance would prove in another point of
view; busy Politicians would then give place to peaceful Philolo¬
gists, in the councils of the sovereign ; “ Basilicogrammat ” would

supersede the title of Prime Minister, and Sir H. E-n would no

doubt assume the conduct of our Foreign Affairs. None but first-
rate grammarians w r ould be chosen for the office of ambassador,—
which would prevent all possibility of the use of “ bad language ”
in diplomatic relations with other countries; “The United States
themselves,” I inadvertently exclaimed, “ would be no exception
to the universal rule ! ”

The learned Doctor’s face darkened.—I saw he was averse to
the idea of curtailing the special privileges of his great nation.—
I returned to the dahabieh enchanted with my excursion.

Plate XII.

Mrs. MacFishy endeavours in vain to keep on a friendly (or any other) footing with her departing guest.

Plate

THE P,

15 th February .—I fear I have been much deceived in the charac¬
ters of some, if not of all, my present companions. I had for some
time past perceived that there was much to disapprove in the
habits and ways of thinking of the MacFishy family; but I am not
captious, or ready to find fault; 1 made allowances for peculiarities
that, in spite of appearances, might be compatible with intrinsic
worth. I am entirely free from overstrained and romantic notions,
and did not, even from the first, attribute to the elder Mr. MacFishy
any peculiarly great or chivalrous qualities; alas! I begin to fear
that even the lesser virtues may be deficient in him ! Perhaps I
wrong him: it seems such a shocking thing to suspect anything in
the least degree like (can I write the word ?) imposition on the part
of a gentleman and the father of a family; but, really, the circum¬
stances are so extraordinary I hardly know what to say or think!

Twice , since we left Cairo, has he applied to me for extra dis¬
bursements to some amount, though I was told in Cairo that the
sum I originally paid in advance, which was to clear all my ex¬
penses, was more than liberal—was extravagant! But it appears
that provisions are unusually dear this season on the Nile; that eggs
vary from a shilling to eighteen pence apiece, which seems very
preposterous, considering they are so seldom fresh; and that goats
milk is sold at about half a guinea a pint! I often wonder how
the poorer inhabitants of the country can manage to exist at this
rate; but Mr. MacFishy informs me that their food consists prin¬
cipally of dates and dandelions, with an occasional doftm palm-
nut, and a ragoftt of grasshoppers when in season. However, this
morning I candidly replied to Mr. MacFishy’s third application for
additional funds, “ that I had but a small sum remaining, which
was really necessary to me, as I wished to purchase some little
49

XII.

RT I N G.

memorials of our pleasant voyage, at Kenneh or Assouan, if we got
so far, in the shape of Nubian curiosities, or the fantastic pottery-
ware of the country.” 1 was greatly surprised and wounded
at the way in which my reply was received; it was a painful
moment!

Then again, Mr. Andrew is certainly more coarse and boisterous
than I could have believed possible at the outset of our voyage;
his manner is more familiar than is I think quite consistent with
the respect due to a maiden lady travelling under his mother’s
protection. To-day I overheard him designate me as “ the old
girl! ” and he has twice addressed me as Miss Tabitha , or Tabby —
which is the more extraordinary as he knows my Christian name
to be Impulsia. He is seldom without a cigar in his mouth, even
at dinner!

Euphemia is always acrid and argumentative; but I had not
overrated her good qualities originally. Mrs. MacFishy is the
same easy, good-humoured creature as ever, and—if it were not for
the one terrible circumstance to which I have alluded—I could still
enjoy her society : poor soul! I am determined to make one effort
to reclaim her,—it will but prove my good will and anxiety for
her welfare, if I gently insinuate to her husband my fears for
her health in consequence of this baneful habit ! I will speak
to-morrow!

18 th February .—My situation is become intolerable! I must
immediately separate from these persons, at any risk, at any
inconvenience! The events of the last two days have rendered
this step imperatively necessary.

THE PARTING.

At Edfou, where we halted for a day to examine the temple, the
horrors of my situation reached their climax! Mr. Andrew was
more than usually impertinent during our excursion, and not even
the dignity and reserve of my manner could bring him to a sense
of propriety : Miss Euphemia, though seldom disposed to agree on
any subject with her brother, upon this occasion seemed to enjoy
my confusion and annoyance. Towards the end of the day I felt
called upon to appeal to their mother’s protection against the
indignities I was exposed to,—when, alas! I found her in a state
of such profound coma, that she was absolutely supported on her
saddle by two Arabs, on the road home. I felt it was time to
speak.

On reaching the shore, where our dahabieh was moored, I called
Mr. MacFishy aside, and, adverting in the most delicate manner
to his wife’s unhappy condition, asked him if by the united efforts
of the whole party we could not prevent such a painful scene for
the future, proffering my own most friendly and earnest assistance.
To my utter astonishment, he turned with a sneering laugh to the
rest of the party, and exclaimed in a loud sarcastic tone,—“ Here,
Andrew! Phemie! my woman! wad ye credit this! here’s this
silly bodie bringing the most awful accusation against your puir
mither, and asserting, positively, that she’s inebriated! a decent
woman, that never in her life took mair than was just guid for
her! Deed, then, my leddy, you’re no blate to say it! ”

I stood perfectly aghast at the impudence of this reply: I hardly
listened to the duet of impertinences in which the young people
instantly engaged—Mr. Andrew informing me that my words were
slanderous and laid me open to an action for damages; Miss
Euphemia inquiring, with uplifted hands and eyes, “ where I

thought I should go hereafter ? ”—one and all protesting that it
was the most ridiculously unfounded calumny! And there sat the
wretched woman herself, on the river bank, with an idiotic smile,
and her bonnet cocked over her ear, wondering occasionally what
we were “ havering about,” and advising us in husky paralytic ac¬
cents “ to take a guid glass of bran ’ an ’ wa\ and gang till our beds.”

The time for action had arrived. In calm but decided tones
I directed their dragoman to bring my boxes out of the boat,
and lay them on the bank. This was instantly done—while Mr.
Andrew, leaning carelessly on the post to which the dahabieh was
moored, smoked contemptuously ; and his father, in accents half-
insolent, half-apologetic, asked “ whatna fule’s errand the woman
was going ? wad ye no be the better o’ sleeping on it ? ” re¬
minding me of the contract by which I forfeited the sum I had
paid for the return voyage.

I answered nothing! with a withering glance and majestic
gesture, I swept past him. I signed to some Arabs who were
loitering near, to carry my boxes up to the village near which we
were moored,—and, turning round, left the whole MacFishy clan
for ever!

Up to the last moment, the poor creature whom I had wished to
reclaim, clamorously insisted on a parting embrace, while she
vainly endeavoured to steady herself by clutching her husband’s
arm; and her unhappy bonnet, finally settling with its hind side
before, totally extinguished her flaming and jovial countenance.

This was the last I saw of the MacFishy family.

Plate XIII.

THE CAMEL.

I was now in a most unprecedented and bewildering situation. I
think I have already said that I am totally unused to the Battle of
Life; that my footsteps have hitherto kept the beaten paths of a
perhaps too conventional existence! For the first time I found
myself cast entirely on the resources of my native intelligence, and
forced into rude contact with the most startling and unlooked-for
contingencies!

Alone, amid a rude, if not savage people—knowing nothing of
their language save a few commonplace words and phrases—at a
distance from all consuls or agents of any civilized government—
for I knew of none nearer than Luxor, where that excellent native
gentleman, Mustafa Aglia, acts in that capacity for the English
government—such was my situation !

But my courage rose with the occasion for it. I knew the
Arabic words for horse, camel, donkey, boy, bread, water, &c.; and
with that shibboleth of Eastern travel, “ Bakhshish ,” I could
manage to make known my most serious wants. The Arabs around
me, though troublesomely curious, seemed friendly, and evidently
interested in my proceedings. I asked for a horse—there was
53

none to be had in the village; a donkey?—“ Mafish /” was the
unsatisfactory reply. A camel ? Yes! two camels! A merchant
from Dongolah was even now in the town, with two camels, on his
way back to Cairo.

My heart bounded with joy; I had long desired to try the paces
i of a camel, but had not hitherto found a proper opportunity.

The merchant and I were put into communication. He proved to
Jl be a ragged, pecller-looking fellow, with a singularly dirty friend
or double , who answered for him, and with him, every time any
one spoke to him. As well as I could, I put the question, “ how
much ” to take me to Luxor ? The whole village, as well as the
merchant and his double, answered with one huge shout of general
information, which, however, slept useless in my ear, as I could
not understand a word of what they said. I tried again, and was
again greeted with the same universal reply.

This was a terrible dilemma! At length I was given to under¬
stand, somehow, that there was a man in the town who spoke
French. What happiness! Half the town ran to look for him,
the other half remained to gaze at me and my boxes.

THE CAMEL.

During this interval the merchant and his dirty friend sat upon
my trunks, and ate raw cucumbers. I was quite gratified to see
them thus familiar, as it looked as if they already took a pro¬
spective interest in them.

In about twenty minutes they had captured the man who spoke
French, and brought him to me. With unspeakable relief I began
to pour my history and my wishes into his ear; but he only rolled
his eyes and shrugged his shoulders, and I soon discovered that his
whole stock of French consisted of the word “ Monsieur,” by which
title he occasionally saluted me, but said the rest in Arabic; while
his townsmen listened in admiration, chorused everything he said,
and seemed pleased to discover that they also understood the
French language.

I began to despair;—suddenly, a tall, sickly-looking negro, who
had been leaning against the wall shaking with ague, seemed
to comprehend the dilemma. Shouldering his way through the
crowd into the small circle where I and my boxes were deposited,
he collected a small heap of stones, placed them on one side of a
puddle of water close by, saying “ Luxor” and my two boxes on
the other, making the gestures of a man swimming. I saw the
mistake I had made; Luxor was on the other side of the river,
which I had quite forgotten.

I now substituted the name of the little village opposite to it,
giving a small piece of money to the intelligent negro, who
seemed to assume that place in public estimation which had been
54

originally bestowed on the French linguist,—and my bargain with
the merchant went on with renewed spirit.

Of course, he began by asking me about a thousand pounds for
the journey, but by dint of shaking my head, and retiring every
now and then in disgust from the argument, across the puddle,
he, and his dirty friend, who seemed the more active contro¬
versialist of the two—gradually came down to the price of three
camels for the hire of two, and after a few more struggles and
mutual concessions, the bargain was concluded.

I managed to make them understand that I wished to start at
daybreak; and as it was now late in the evening, I accepted the
hospitality of an old woman who had been pulling my sleeve, and
chattering at my ear, during the camel controversy, and entered
her clay-built hovel with some misgivings.

It proved much cleaner than I anticipated. She spread my own
cloak over a coarse mat, which covered her divan (also made of
dried clay), and gave me a leathery cake of bread, baked in the
ashes, and a draught of sour milk, for which I was truly
thankful.

I could have slept soundly, even on this hard couch, if my enter¬
tainer would only have permitted it—I was so thoroughly exhausted
by the fatigues of the day, and the agitation of my parting inter¬
view with the MacFisliy family. But the old woman came every
five minutes to see if I slept, stroked my face with her dirty hands,

THE CAMEL.

and finally became so tronblesomely inquisitive as to the fastening
of my earrings, that I thought it advisable to leave the shelter
of her roof, and walk up and down before the door until morning.

The wild houseless dogs stood on the dust-heaps, and barked
incessantly at me; but I knew that the mere act of stooping for a
stone would scare them from approaching me. The night was fine
and luminous with stars; there was no dew or feeling of damp; and
if it had not been for the increasing sensation of fatigue, I could
have almost enjoyed my novel position. Still it was pleasant to
see that first yellow gleam of approaching dawn, deepen into rosy
warmth above the low dark purple hills in the east.

My camels appeared soon after, led by the merchant and his
double; also some of the village boys, who seemed to have risen
thus early in order to express general sympathy in any movement
whatever; and a couple of young Nubians, who appeared to take
the deepest interest in the comfort of the camels, and the progress
of the journey.

My camel knelt obediently for me to mount, but dismounted
me again in the act of regaining its legs. However, I soon learnt
how to arrange my position so as to ensure security, and a cer¬
tain amount of comfort.

My boxes were fastened on the other camel; and now, with
much chattering of the attendants, and counter-chattering on
the part of a little crowd of idlers who had by this time assembled,
we prepared to set forth—when, suddenly, the door of the hovel
in which I had taken shelter for so short a time overnight, flew
55

open, and the inquisitive old lady planted herself in my path
with the air of an avenging fury, demanding a second payment
for the leathery bannock and sour milk she had so hospitably
bestowed on me. I was meekly preparing to satisfy her demand,
but the merchant interfered, justly considering everything I gave
to others, as so much taken out of his pocket. We moved
forward; but as she continued to scream and skip in front of my
camel, he quietly took her up in his arms, wrapped her veil round
her head so as to suffocate her in a slight degree, and deposited
her inside her own mansion.

After this act of decision, no further opposition was offered by
any one to our departure, and, solemnly pacing out of the little
dusty town, we found ourselves on the open plain.

Oh Nature 1 Mother Nature! Healer I Kestorer! Consoler!
How the dove-soul,—fleeing from uncongenial companionship,
from lying among the pots, from dwelling with MacFishys,—soars
and revels in blest communion with thee 1 How she circles in
mid air, bathing her white wings in celestial light, drinking in,—&c.

[Here Miss Gushington’s style becomes so decidedly Germanic
and transcendental, that her Editor modestly relinquishes the
attempt to follow her. Miss Gushington herself owns that at this
distance of time, having destroyed her original notes, she is not pre¬
pared to say —what she meant to say. Under these circumstances,
the rest of the passage has been cancelled; but the Editor makes
no apology for retaining the eloquent exordium, by way of sample
of its exquisite beauty.]

THE

Journal continued.

My camel proved to be gentle, easy, and docile. I found
myself often slumbering to its rocking motion, being rather
worn with want of sleep, and oppressed with the heat of the
day. But, in spite of these light drawbacks, I thoroughly enjoyed
my situation. Our course lay for some hours at the foot of
low undulating hills, sprinkled with gay bushes of the castor-oil
shrub, and the delicious scented yellow mimosa; while on the
right, large fields of sweet lilac vetches, and patches of tobacco in
full flower, stretched downwards to the river.

The merchant and his friend walked in advance. The two
“ mild Nubians ” (for so Herodotus designates the gentle people)
trotted merrily by my side, both barefoot, though one carried a
good pair of slippers in his hand. Poking my camel with a stick,

or encouraging him by caresses to accelerate the dignified pace at
which these annuals generally progress, these interesting youths
lightened the way by their native chants and songs, whose gentle
monotony harmonized with my state of feeling, and with the
rhythm of my camel’s footsteps.

The lovely scene, the balmy air, the sense of freedom, the
relief from hateful associations, all combined to soothe and calm
my spirit. I contrasted these gentle denizens of the Desert—their
courteous salaams and poetical forms of address—with the vulgar
rudeness of my late companions. I compared the flat conven¬
tionalities of civilized existence—with the piquant charm of my
present situation.

I fell into a delicious trance, half slumber, half reverie. I
could have journeyed thus for ever!

Miss Gu8hington experiences a new sensation.

Plate XIV.

A GENTLE CANTER.

1 woke with a shock from the sleep which had overcome my sen¬
sibility to outward impressions. Good gracious! what spirit of
evil had taken possession of my gentle camel ? I found myself
bounding over the sandy plain at a pace which threatened disloca¬
tion of all my members!

It was in vain that I grasped the horn of the saddle (which is
the principal security of one’s seat on a camel) with a mad despera¬
tion that only served to fatigue my arms: these tremendous
bounds lifted me out of the seat, and I soon found myself in the
well-known but critical posture which Mile. Eulalie Vol-au-Vent
assumes, in ‘ the Courier of St. Petersburgh,’ or * the Wild Horse of
the Prairies,’ at Astley’s theatre. My serviceable little hat flew
like a rocket from my head ; my parasol mounted like a balloon.
I felt like a fly on some inexorable monster-wheel moved by the
demon Steam , that must in its next revolution inevitably crush
me into annihilation. On and on we rushed; the scared cranes
screamed above my head; the sand seemed all on fire beneath my
camel’s feet; the low hills fleeted by like dreams; the wind
deafened me by its rush and roar against my ears ; my breath was
gone—my sight failed! when suddenly—all grew black, and silent
and still!

I must have fainted, and most fortunately slid down the side of
the distracted animal to which I was clinging; for I found myself
(when conscious) bruised indeed and shaken, but sound and whole
in limb, upon a heap of drifted sand.

I sat up, and gazed around. The character of the ground, and
the landscape altogether, was much changed. Bidges of barren
rock and patches of reddish sand lay round me, backed by an
abrupt hill, seemingly excavated in many directions. But the soli¬
tude was absolute, and for a few minutes alarmed me.

I soon reflected that, although my kindly, courteous Arab
attendants must necessarily be far behind, they would not fail to
track my camel’s feet wherever the ground was soft and sandy,
and even the tracts of stony ground which we had passed over would
betray some sign or vestige of our erratic flight, to minds so saga¬
cious and suggestive as theirs. I therefore lay quietly back on the
sand where I had fallen. The sun was already low in the west,
but I felt no fear, nothing but a delicious sense of rest, and peace,
and confidence in my destiny!

My dress was terribly tom, but I carried in my pocket all the
necessary little matters that would enable me to repair the damage.

In about half an hour my faithful Arabs came running up to me
with many exclamations of surprise and alarm, fearing that I was
seriously hurt. They had succeeded in catching my camel, which
indeed had soon stopped of its own accord ; but the other one, with
my baggage, was missing. This was a most unaccountable circum¬
stance, and the impossibility of comprehending the explanation,
which the Arabs seemed eager to afford, added greatly to my
perplexity.

Time might remedy this, and I trusted that the morning would
bring me news of my missing property. In the mean time the
merchant and his friend invited me by signs to proceed a short
distance further, as a small village lay hid behind the spur of the
sandy hill.

With some difficulty I managed to drag my weary limbs so
far; but the hovels to which they conducted me looked so dirty
and uninviting that I refused to enter them. I had noticed some
dry shallow caves in the sandstone rock we had just passed, and
I made my friends understand I should prefer passing the night
there.

Arabs will sleep anywhere; they need no means and appliances

CANTER.

to rest; and a proposition of this kind, which would have appeared
to my excellent Corkscrew and faithful Minikin an outrage on the
decencies of life, seemed to my present unsophisticated retainers
the simplest thing in the world. To the caves we accordingly
repaired. I selected one for my “ maiden-bower,” and my faithful
Arabs chose another for themselves. They lit a fire there and
prepared some excellent coffee, of which I gladly partook, as well
as of the palatable cakes they procured from the village. I now
divested myself of my upper garments, and proceeded to repair the
damage they had sustained. I finished my task just as the sun sank
beneath the low sand-hills ; I can just remember replacing my
gold thimble, scissors, &c., in the pocket of my dress; and with
the garment still lying loose across my knees, fatigue overcame
me, and I slept—a long, delicious, dreamless sleep.

Plate

THE SI

I woke with a start, just as the golden dawn was tipping the
extreme tops of a tuft of palm-trees near me with the most
brilliant orange. Perfect silence prevailed, save the distant bark
of the village dogs, and the chirp of the pale-brown sparrows that
hopped in and out of my cave with insolent tameness, picking up
the debris of my last night’s supper.

For a moment I had some difficulty in collecting my torpid
senses and realizing my situation ; but I was soon wide awake, and
hastily rose to arrange my disordered dress and call up my faithful
Arabs.

My dress ? It was no longer on my knees—it was nowhere to
be found! I thought at first that my senses deceived me. I
rubbed my eyes—I searched every nook, every recess in the
cavern—alas, in vain! I rushed into the open air, calling loudly
on my faithful attendants. No voice responded to my call. I
searched the caves near me—they were deserted; nothing remained
belonging to my late companions except the ashes of the fire they
had kindled for our repast.

Then, for the first time, the awful truth burst upon my mind, and
nearly overwhelmed it.

These persons in whom I had so fondly confided—these unso¬
phisticated children of the Desert—these “ mild Nubians ”—this
respectable merchant and his unwashed friend—were wretches,
robbers, miscreants, that hardly deserved the name of men. They
had evidently taken note of the contents of my pocket—my purse,
my gold thimble, the little ornamental articles of housewifery I
possessed. They had watched me to sleep, and, as the shortest
and easiest way of obtaining possession of the coveted articles,
they had silently and adroitly abstracted the dress itself as it lay
loose upon my lap, trusting in the depth of my slumber to effect
their purpose. No doubt the concealment of the second camel was
but a part of the plan—they had appropriated its burden. Perhaps
by some atrocious trick they had incited the camel I rode to its
unwonted and remarkable pace, in the hope of maiming, perhaps
of murdering me. They had robbed me of everything I possessed;
but I had reason to be thankful that I had escaped with life—and an
63

XV.

under-petticoat. Such, literally, was the extent of my possessions.
I had divested myself of the dress in order to mend it, intending
to put it on again immediately, but, falling asleep so suddenly,
I remained in what may be termed costumes simplest expression ,
except that I had accidentally retained the structure that supports
the upper garments—the “ hoop,” “ cage,” or “ crinoline.”

I sat down in this terrible emergency to reflect on the course I
should pursue. My purse was gone,—I had no money to buy other
clothing, supposing that in this wretched village such articles were
to be bought, which I knew was improbable. It was true that in
this delicious climate the absence of clothing was likely to prove
less inconvenient than—on the first blush of the matter—might be
supposed; but there were other considerations, which will naturally
suggest themselves to the sensitively delicate mind. How was the
impropriety of my appearance to be obviated? I had read of
ladies in similar circumstances letting down their back hair, and
finding it an efficient substitute. Godiva is a memorable instance
of the success of this expedient. But then I must suppose that her
hair was longer and more abundant than mine, which hardly reached
my shoulders.

Was there a chance of my being able to recover my lost pro¬
perty ? I remembered to have been told that the Sheikh , or chief,
of every village, however poor, was a sort of magistrate “ au petit
pied,” with power to investigate and authority to punish any theft
committed within his jurisdiction. No doubt even this small vil¬
lage owned an official dignitary of this sort; I determined to seek
him out and make my complaint.

With timid footstep and faltering heart, such as the illustrious
lady to whom I have alluded above—must have owned, on first
emerging from her palace and descending into the silent streets of
Coventry, I crept forth from my cave and ventured into the vil¬
lage. It was a wretched collection of hovels, with few and poor
inhabitants. Some women returning from the well, with their
graceful water-jars on their heads and their dirty cotton veils held
by one corner in their teeth,—a few idle boys, who with the spright¬
liness of childhood flung stones at me,—these were the only living

THE

souls I met, and I rejoiced to find that my denuded appearance
seemed to excite in them neither surprise nor curiosity.

I looked about me, and instinctively singled out, as the Sheikh’s
abode, a house of superior pretensions to the rest, inasmuch as,—
though the upper paid, containing the inevitable pigeon-cote, was
built of clay and pottery, like the others,—the lower part was
principally of stone. The door stood invitingly open; I entered.

The Sheikh—a venerable old man with a long white beard and
an enormous green turban—was seated in domestic comfort on his
humble divan, smoking a long chibouque, with his coffee, &c.,
beside him. Stretching forth my hand in suppliant guise, I began,
in the best Arabic I could muster,—which consisted only of a
few isolated noun-substantives, such as “bad Arabs,” “robbers,”
“clothes,” “camel,”—to explain my situation and implore his
assistance.

I think he had been dozing when I entered. As he gazed upon
me, his eyes and mouth gradually widened to an inconceivable
extent, whilst out of the latter rolled an apparently illimitable
volume of tobacco - smoke, which irresistibly reminded me of that
charming story, * The Fisherman and the Geni,’ the delight of
my innocent childhood. At length he drew a deep and sonorous
inspiration, uttered a loud shriek, and, scrambling to the farthest
corner of the divan, drew himself up into the smallest possible
compass, where, trembling and staring, he began muttering invo¬
cations to Allah and the Prophet.

I distinctly heard the word “afrit” in his prayer, and imme¬
diately guessed that he had taken my unexpected, perhaps peculiar
appearance; for that of an evil spirit!

I remembered that I had omitted the customary form of blessing
on entering his house, which might account for the distressing and
unflattering view he had taken of my nature. I hastened to repair
my error, having luckily learnt the necessary form of salutation
from Mr. Andrew MacFishy’s mocking addresses to “ the niggers ,”
as he styled even the most respectable native gentlemen. The
venerable man calmed down by degrees, seeing that I was ap¬
parently harmless; but though his agitation subsided, his intelli¬
gence remained undeveloped. I could not make him comprehend
my painful position. To my necessarily imperfect statemen of the
facts, he merely answered, “ Mashallah! ” in every tone of astonish¬
ment and dismay; nothing else could be extracted from him.

—

I confess that the courage and excitement which had hitherto
sustained me, began now to give way, and I was about to take
refuge in a flood of tears, when a blessed thought struck me—
my earrings!

I had a large and handsome pair of gold ornaments in my ears,
which now might prove of more than their intrinsic value to me.
If I could not make this venerable, but obtuse old nnfn, assist
me in the attempt to recover my stolen luggage, at least he might
bestow upon me some cloak or covering which might render my
appearance more fit to meet the public eye.

I began to covet the greasy “ abbah ” which he himself wore! I
laid hold of it, and held out my gold earrings in the other hand.
At first he seemed to mistake my intentions,—perhaps imagined I
meant violently to deprive him of his garment, for he shook me off
with some anger; but the sight of the gold disarmed him.

Barter! that blessed, universal expression of necessity, and its
remedy, conveyed my meaning better than the most eloquent
words or tears. His mind seemed at once to grasp the situation
with commercial aptitude.

He hastily stripped off his “ abbah,”—nay, in his eagerness to
conclude the bargain, he seemed ready to “throw in” even his
more necessary garments; but I stopped him in time, and merely
accepted a “kefieh,” or silk handkerchief for the head, which,
though old and dirty, would at least shelter it from the sun.

The Sheikh’s understanding seemed to expand under the excite¬
ment of the lucrative transaction he had just concluded, and I found
little difficulty in explaining to him that I required a horse or
donkey, and a guide to the nearest town. He bustled about with
more alacrity than his appearance would have entitled one to ex¬
pect,—saddled and led forth his own donkey for my use,—and, call¬
ing lustily for “ Yunas,” a great grinning negro from Dahfur made
his appearance, to whom he gave me and the donkey in charge,
with many cautions and directions, which, of course, I did not
comprehend. With the customary salutations on both sides, I set
forth on my journey, leaving in the Sheikh’s possession my “ hoop”
or “cage,” which, in the present condition of my attire, seemed like
a mockery of the comforts of civilized costume.

The last I saw of the venerable man, as I turned from his door,
he seemed to be meditating on the nature of the structure, and
endeavouring to put it to some practical use.

Plate XVI.

THE SHEIKH’S DONKEY.

It was not with as light a heart as on the first morning of my
return journey, that I again set forth northwards. In the first
place, my mode of travelling was not agreeable. The Arab saddle
on my donkey necessitated my riding after the manner of the
women of the country, which is, in fact,—in the manner of the men
of the country. Then again I own that the delight of freedom
and solitary travel had begun in some measure to pall upon my
taste. The remembrance of the MacFishys was still odious to me;
but yet I longed for communion with my kind.

Under this head I could not, by any possibility, class the negro
who accompanied me. He was certainly the most disagreeable
specimen of the race that I ever met with. He grinned and stared
in my face unceasingly, while, in a loud voice and rambling
manner, he poured forth a voluble monologue. I think he was
insane ; but there was a certain method in his madness ; the word
“ Bakhshish” constantly reiterated, gave me an intimation of the
nature of his discourse.* Sometimes he half shrieked it in an angry
determined tone, as if his rights had become too patent, and his
necessities too pressing, for any further delay. Sometimes he
stopped my donkey, and, placing himself in front, he put it to me,
in a reasonable argumentative form, whether it were possible to
resist the evidence he adduced, as to the absolute propriety of
making him a handsome present. By and by, in a whining apolo-

* How can I sufficiently express my gratitude to the amiable and profound

Dr. S-h, for supplying me with the correct orthography of these Arabian

words ? I really feel as if 1 held the key to—were standing on the threshold of—
the poetic shrine of Eastern thought!

getic tone, with real tears hopping over his oily cheeks and
shining nose, he would adjure me to consider his humble request.
Then he would as suddenly recover his spirits, flourish his stick in
the air, and pour out a song of praise and thanksgiving for the
reward he knew I was going to bestow on him. Soon after, a
sense of my obduracy would seem to weigh him to the earth, and
with moody brow and sepulchral voice he would merely boom out
the words “ Bakhshish,” “ Bakhshish,” with the mournful regu¬
larity of minute guns.

Alas! I had nothing to give him, or I would willingly have
purchased immunity from his ceaseless harangue; but it was quite
useless to attempt to convince him of my destitution ; Lying is such
a matter-of-fact and matter-of-course institution in this country,
that it almost assumes the value and simple dignity of Truth. I
mean, that, as nobody believes anything that anybody says on
any subject, no deception is really practised, and, by a somewhat
roundabout process, society is fast arriving at the transparent
integrity of the Golden Age.

My donkey only fell twice, and once kicked me over its head;
on each occasion my companion demanded an immediate reward
for picking me up again.

Towards evening we arrived at a large village on the banks of
the Nile, and I at length got rid of my dreadful negro, who
saluted me at parting with a volley of execrations, in which the
fatal word “Bakhshish” still predominated.

THE

With languid limbs and a sinking heart I crept through the out¬
skirts of the town, and directed my steps towards the river, lo
my inexpressible delight, I saw, moored under the bank, a small
“ canjia,” or native boat, with the Dutch flag flying at its stern,
and its head lying down the river.

With a beating heart I rushed to the spot. On the deck
reclined a bulky gentleman, smoking a meerschaum, and inhaling
the balmy evening breeze between every whiff with evident zest.
With a faltering voice I addressed him in French, from the
vantage ground which the high bank afforded. He did not appear
very conversant with that language, but evidently understood the
drift of my speech, and with composed kindness of manner er-
plied in Dutch, interspersed with an English word or two, which
sounded like music in my ears. “ Yes, he was going north; he
would take me on board; where was my luggage?” He little
knew the extremity of my destitution ! I got on board the friendly
bark with speechless gratitude. The good man (who proved to
be a Dutch engineer, employed in making some survey for the
Pasha) seemed to require little or no explanation of the circum¬
stances which had thrown me on his protection. He made me up
a comfortable couch under the awning, fenced off from the public
eye by a few boxes and a bit of sailcloth. I had safety, food, and
rest; I needed nothing more. I think I slept the best part of the

’S DONKEY.

three days we spent in reaching Luxor, where I knew my principal
troubles would be at an end.

At this distance of time, I look back with astonishment at the
very little disturbance of mind I experienced in contemplating my
peculiar relations with my excellent host. That exquisite sense of
feminine decorum on which I prided myself, seemed, for the time,
quite in abeyance. It is true, that, from the first moment of our
meeting, I felt the most unbounded confidence in the respectful
nature of this gentleman’s attentions. I think the Dutch character
is calculated to inspire this feeling. Mynheer Van Swillanstoff
was evidently a man of refined and noble qualities, and reserved
disposition: he gave me a slight notion of what the Great Stadt-
holder may have been. Our communications were rare, but
mutually satisfactory; and I think it speaks volumes for the
character of this truly worthy man, as well as for his merits as
a companion, that a maiden lady, in my strange and unprece¬
dented situation, unknown and unnamed, in what must be called
male costume (if it could be styled any costume at all), should
thus have floated calmly down the current of existence on the
Nile’s broad bosom, for the space of three days and nights, in
the society of a fat gentleman, with whom she had never ex¬
changed a word in her life before, without a shadow of fear or
feeling of embarrassment.

Angels of Mercy appear on the scene,

Plate XVII.

KAR NAK.

On arriving at Luxor, after pouring out my thanks to Mynheer
Van Swillanstoflf with all the fervour of my expansive nature,—
which he listened to with the bland equanimity which character¬
ized his own,—I hastened up the bank to the pleasant residence
of Mustafa Aglia, the native Vice-Consul for England, whose
acquaintance I had made on my way south with the MacFishy
family.

He received me with friendly interest and sympathy, and (a
valued proof of that feeling) allowed me to have a small sum of
money on my note of hand, to be repaid on my reaching Cairo.

Strange to say, the possession of these funds did not remove the
difficulties attending my costume. Native female attire alone
was to be procured in the Luxor Bazaar, and I own that I had a
repugnance to the idea of adopting the “ sherwdl,” or— trousers, in
which the inmates of Mr. Mustafa’s hareem were arrayed. I had
no pattern dress by which the Arab tailor could have attempted
to make me a gowrn; and no European lady was at present at
Luxor, from whom I might have borrowed the required model. I
was therefore necessitated to retain the Sheikh’s greasy “ abbah,”
to which Mr. Mustafa kindly added a red tarboosh, or cap. Over
this I threw a large piece of white muslin, which gave a more
graceful and feminine character to my attire, than it could pre¬
viously boast. I also bought myself a pair of yellow morocco
slippers in the bazaar; my English shoes being quite worn out.

Being now at least decently covered and in some measure
habituated to the costume, my native courage and energy returned,
and I determined to make the most of the time I might be obliged
to remain here before an opportunity occurred for my return to
Cairo.

The time thus employed was not the least enjoyable part of my
delightful pilgrimage.

What long, enchanting days have I spent in wandering through
the bewildering maze of Medinet Habul I was familiar with
every nook and corner of that beautiful and stupendous ruin.
Its pale Osirides have watched above my noon-day’s repose; its
turquoise-coloured roof (hardly to be distinguished from that tropic
sky by day) has often sheltered me from the searching light of
Egypt’s midnight stars—stars with deeper meanings in their rays
than our poor pale planets can boast! stars of a more “ knowing ”
expression!—accustomed to be consulted—and fraught with that
mysterious lore that made the old Egyptians wise!

What delicious evenings have I whiled aw r ay in the glorious
Memnoniun, tracing on its walls the serene features of the same
hero through a hundred battles, ever cutting his resistless way
through hostile hosts, as though they w r ere but cream cheeses.

Sometimes, seated on a fallen column at Gourneh, I have sat
entranced, watching the sun to his rest behind the purple “ Hill of

KARNAK.

when, on reaching the bottom of some steps that lead to a favourite
haunt of mine, a small stone chamber in the heart of the grand Pro-
| pylon, I saw a lady and gentleman advancing towards me, with
countenances glowing with cordial interest. They presented their
cards, and proved to be two angels of mercy from the warm-hearted
sister isle—“ Major and Mrs. Cornelius O’Whacker, of Ballybosh
Castle, Fibbereen, County Kildare.” “ They had only come as far
as Thebes to see its glorious monuments, not for the first time, and
intended returning almost immediately to Cairo. They had heard
of me and my unfortunate position from their old friend Mr. Mus¬
tafa ; and their arrival at this propitious moment, when their
services might be useful to me, looked quite providential. They
implored me to make use of them: their boat, their money, their
clothes, everytliing they possessed in the world, and more, was at
my service. My company on board their little dahabieh would be
not only a favour, but a positive benefit.”

The warmth and kindness of their address quite melted into my
heart, and I could almost have wept upon their friendly bosoms.
Of course, it was impossible to resist their cordial importunity.

I feel that these are friends for life; my soul expands in their
society with the delicious sense of perfect congeniality.

We leave Thebes to-morrow.

Tombs,” robed in gold and glorious colours like those other buried
kings—shrouded like them in silence and eternal mystery ! Then
the stillness would deepen round me, and brood above the plain,
like a visible Power and Presence; and the bats would sail out on
the breathless air, like ghosts of departed birds, and flit round me
on soft noiseless wings, till I doubted whether they were living
things!

Above all, what hours of unspeakable charm have I enjoyed in
the shadow of your giant columns, glorious Ivarnak! when Fancy
would clear away the encroaching sand, and lift the Titanic blocks
of stone to their places high in mid-heaven, and fill the enormous
galleries and interminable colonnades with light and dazzling
colour, and moving multitudes, and mysterious worship,—till my
soul overflowed with the satisfied sense of grandeur, and—compared
with that image—Athens’ Acropolis seemed like a filigree toy, and
Home’s St. Peter’s shrank to a tidy parish church!

[The Editor has again, with much regret, cut out some very
powerful writing of Miss Gushington’s, which the limits allowed by
her excellent publisher forbid her to retain. The interjections
alone would have filled several folio pages.]

1st March .—This morning is indeed to be marked with a white
stone. I was wandering, as usual, in the mazes of this sublime ruin,

■■■■

Plate XVIII.

A GLUT IN THE MARKET.

Before I proceed to describe all the pains my kind friends have
taken to make me completely at home on board their boat, I must
try to convey an idea of their personal appearance, which indeed
accords with all the refinement of their minds.

Major 0 Whacker is one of the most distinguished-looking men
I have ever met: tall and robust in figure, with that peculiar “ air
noble ” which birth, combined with refined associations, alone can
bestow. I understand the O’Whacker family is considered one
of the oldest in Ireland, descended originally from one of its
monarchs, but connected with the Norman aristocracy tlirough the
Fitz-Slys. My friends have a magnificent castle (Ballybosh) in
Kildare, a place of great antiquity, to which they have given me
the most pressing welcome; I hope some day to avail myself of
their kind invitation.

The Emerald Isle possesses a peculiar interest in my eyes, as a
branch of my family (the Gushingtons of Bletherumskite) settled
there some centuries ago, with whom I would gladly renew a con¬
nexion. In my eyes old family ties are sacred things, however far
they stretch.

To return to the excellent O’Whackers. The Major’s manner is
grave and somewhat lofty, full of a chivalrous courtesy, and elabo¬
rate deference, which suit his knightly air. The slight “ nuance ”
of what I fear I must coll flattery, in all he says, (coming from such
a man), stamps a value on the recipient, which is most grateful to the
feelings. To me, so long weaned from communion with refined and
elegant minds, this manner has, I own, a wondrous charm, especially
when one reflects that it is based (in this instance) upon sterling
sincerity, a high sense of honour, and unswerving integrity.

His wife is a charming, airy little personage, full of life and
animation, making a hundred blunders in an hour, but so warm¬
hearted, so impulsive, so full of a delightful heedlessness, that one
loves her at once as the most genuine “ child of nature ” it is pos¬
sible to imagine.

I have heard some persons speak disparagingly of the Irish
accent. I know not whether it be the power of association,, or its
75

own intrinsic charm, but I confess I have seldom heard a mode
of speech that sounded more agreeable in my ears. There is a
breadth and richness of tone, a honeyed mellowness, in such simple
words as “ Me chawrming frind,” by which the Major usually ad¬
dresses me, that dwells upon the ear, and irresistibly suggests the
sweetest and softest ideas: sugar and butter combined will render
the image of what I would convey.

I have been literally forced to accept the loan of a complete set
of clothing from Letitia O’Whacker, or (as she insists upon my
calling her) “ little Letty.” She is so much shorter than I am
that her dress will not nearly reach my ankle, even without crino¬
line, as I must necessarily wear it. The Major has insisted on my
accepting from him also a contribution to my wardrobe, in the form
of a light pith helmet, such as are worn by English officers in
India. It is a most comfortable covering for the head, far superior
to the hot “ tarboosh,” which I have given him in exchange.
Moreover, it is really not unbecoming; at least, if I may trust the
fervent asseverations of the Major, it must certainly suit my style
of countenance. He calls me “ Minerva Succincta ” (in allusion
to the shortness of my dress, and the classic form of head-dress),
and protests, “upon his conscience,” that there is a statue of
Balias in the Music Hall in Dublin that might absolutely be taken
for my portrait. Mrs. O’Whacker also assures me that it is “ the
screaming image” of me. How singular are these accidental
resemblances !

To-day we landed, in order to visit the tombs of Beni Hassan,
which are full of interest.

Wandering some little distance from my friends, I suddenly
found myself in an encampment of mongrel Arabs, a wandering
tribe, who come at this season of the year to the river-side for
purposes of barter or plunder. I stopped to caress a little black-
eyed innocent that begged from me, when I was immediately
surrounded by a dozen mothers, imploring me to purchase their
babies! One old withered crone offered me half a dozen of her
grandchildren for about as many shillings !

A GLUT IN THE MARKET.

Poor tawny innocents! as I gazed upon their pathetically dirty
faces, I was sorely tempted to buy just one —a very little one.
Luckily, my friends came up with me at this crisis, and their pre¬
sence reminded me of the peculiar circumstances under which I
myself was intruding on their hospitality, and which forbade me
to entertain the idea of imposing another burthen upon their
indulgent kindness. Then, too, “ the world’s dread laugh,”—that
demon-spell which so often paralyses the arm half raised to do
some service! Had I appeared in Brook-street with one or two of
these dusky innocents, what might not have been said or thought
by my friends and acquaintances! Perhaps it is as well that I
was prevented making the purchase.

I contented myself with dividing the small sum remaining in
my purse amongst the wretched parents.

Major 0’Whacker has just informed me that he was watching
me at a distance, and that he was struck by my extraordinary
resemblance, at tbe time, to a picture he possesses at Ballybosh—
the subject, “ Pallas, blessing the Athenian A outh.”

There must be some little “ faux air ” or shadow of likeness, it
seems to strike him so continually.

We reach Cairo most probably to-morrow.

10 th March .—The more I see of the O’Whackers, the more I am
led to revere their great and noble natures, especially the Major’s.
His sentiments are so chivalrous, so elevated ! such a grand con¬
tempt for riches, rank, and all worldly advantages ! such a puncti¬
lious sense of honour! What a contrast this is to the meanness
and rapacity of the MacFisliys! Surely, I am the most fortunate
of women in having secured such friends in so fortuitous a manner !

Yesterday evening, as 1 was sitting on the upper deck of our
little dahabieh, enjoying the soft fitful breeze that came off the
Libyan hills, and looking forward to a pleasant sojourn in my old
quarters in the Esbekieh Gardens, the Major, with his usual
courtly grace, seated himself beside me, and, taking my hand with
the lofty air that so well becomes him, addressed me in these
terms:—

“Me chawrming frind!” (I try to keep up the remembrance
76

of the sweet Hibernian intonation)—“ to-morrow our deloightful
mission will have terminated, and we shall relinquish our sweet
charge to more worthy, though certainly not to more deeply
attached and interested protectors. Now, my beloved Miss
Gusliington, away with false delicacy! which is a thing my very
sowl abominates, loathes, and detests! Spake to me with the
openness you would use to a raal frind,—to an elder brother!
shall we say—to an adopted father ? ” said he, smiling in my face
(for, indeed, the slight difference of age between us hardly warrants
the assumption of such a character on his part). “ Be entirely
sincere with me, my sweet frind. Let me have the happiness of
smoothing away any little pecuniary difficulties that may beset ye
on your arrival in Cairo: consider me purrse as your own; me
whole fortchune, such as it is, is at your disposal. I have told
my beloved Letitia to intimate as much—has she recollected to
mention the unimportant matter to ye ? ”

Tears filled my eyes as, with a truly grateful heart, I informed
him (as I had already told his amiable little wife), “ that all my
difficulties would be at an end as soon as I reached Cairo, as I
knew that ample funds would be by this time lodged in my name,
according to order, in the hands of Messrs. Coutts’ Egyptian agent.”
The noble heart seemed positively annoyed on hearing this circum¬
stance, as “ it deprived him of a privilege he valued more than
life—the power of serving those he loves and honours! ”

His excellent little wife informed me this morning that he could
not sleep all night, from dwelling with regret on the fact I had
communicated.

Amiable people! I look forward with real sorrow to our ap¬
proaching separation, which I know must soon follow our arrival
in Cairo;—their presence is absolutely necessary at their place in
Ireland, the buildings in progress at Ballybosh Castle imperatively
requiring the Major’s personal superintendence.

In the mean time we have mutually promised to make the most
of the short period remaining to us, and to be constantly together
as long as they stay.

Alas, these partings! what heavy blots they make on the fail-
page where Friendship writes her sum of happy hours!

Plate XIX

Family Ties. Conversation unexpectedly languishes; even the Parrot finds nothing particular to say

Plate XIX.

CAIRO. — FAMILY TIES.

March 15 th. —I have had a moment of exquisite gratification
this morning. By some strange remissness on the part of Major
O’Whacker’s agents, the large sum which lie had expected to find
awaiting him here, has been delayed, to his great inconvenience
and annoyance. Next mail will bring the necessary advices, but
there are ten days to wait. How truly fortunate it is that my own
funds should be at once available! He would not hear of my
disbursing more than one hundred pounds, for which, with his
usual lofty punctilio, he insisted on my receiving his note of
hand, though I told him that it was perfectly unnecessary between
him and me. “No, my sweet friend,” he exclaimed; “ye must
pardon my rigid adharence to what I consider just and right in
these matthers; in all other things ye shall command my entoire
obedience, my implicit subsarvience, to your wishes; but in all
things connected with pecuniary obligations— Cornelius O’Whacker
is adamant! ”

What could I say, or do, but submit? He is certainly a
remarkable character, and embodies my idea of that grand creature
lvichard Coeur-de-Lion.

16th. —A singularly fortunate combination of events, has brought
me in contact with most distinguished relatives of my own, whose
acquaintance I have hitherto had no opportunity of cultivating.
On reaching Shepherd’s Hotel yesterday morning, I was for some
hours fully occupied with different little matters of business, and
arrangements for the future. I had to see the gentleman who acts
as Coutts’ agent here, and I received a short visit from Mr. C., the
acting \ ice-Consul, whom I wished to consult as to the possibility
of my recovering my property stolen by the Arabs. I was also
pleasingly employed in unpacking a large box of clothing I had
ordered out from England, which luckily arrived by this last mail,
and enabled me to discard the classic costume in which I have
been lately arrayed. (I may mention, par parenthese, that, even
79

in my modern dress, the O’Whackers still perceive the likeness as
strongly as ever.)

On descending to our common sitting-room, Major O’Whacker
read out to us the names of the persons at present staying in the
hotel; and, in the list of those arrived only the night before by
the Indian mail, I heard, to my delight and surprise, the names of
4 feir Marmaduke 1 itzdoldrum and his lady,”—my own cousin
Marmaduke, whom I had not seen since I was a child of eight
years old! The O’Whackers entered warmly into my feelings on
the occasion, and listened with the greatest interest to my narra¬
tive of the circumstances explaining our estrangement.

My father, and Sir Marmaduke’s, were first-cousins, equally
related (the one by the male, the other by the female side) to the
great ducal family of the Doldrums. By a singular and interest¬
ing coincidence the Gushingtons and Fitzdoldrums have always
been united by intermarriages. As early as Henry VI.’s time an
Ingenua Gushyngetowne espoused a Godf rey de Doldrum; and Sir
Splashboard Gushington, Knight, incurred Queen Elizabeth’s dis¬
pleasure, by a secret marriage with one of her ladies,—the lovely
daughter of the Earl of Doldrum.

Ihese interesting circumstances have ever formed a link of
warm affection between the families.

Marmaduke, being the ninth son of my father’s first-cousin, was
sent out to India to push his fortune, in a small civil appointment
procured through my honoured father’s interest. As children we
had played together “ in sunshine and in shade,”—nay, I cannot
even now recall without a blush, that in those days of rosy inno¬
cence, I ever persisted in claiming Marmaduke as my future
husband ! He was then a fine, rather heavy-looking boy, in the
costume of the period (corduroy jacket and trousers buttoned
together), not remarkable for intellectual endowments, but of a soft
and pliant disposition, with pockets ever furnished with articles of
a mysterious and recondite character, in my youthful eyes,—taws,

CAIRO.—FAMILY TIES.

alleys, slate pencils, apples, brass cannons, mouse-traps, elecam¬
pane, and toasted cheese. Ah! happy hours!

Latterly, — indeed for many years, — we heard but little of
Marmaduke. Distant rumours of his “ getting on ” reached us
occasionally, and we rejoiced; that he had the cholera, and we
mourned; that he was married, and we marvelled; but the distance
was great, and he never wrote home, and I doubt whether we ever
heard the lady’s name! Finally, we ascertained that the successful
arrangement of some commercial treaty with the Itajali of Hum-
bughabad and Diddlepore, had somehow entitled him to the honours
of knighthood; and after that, Rumour ceased to occupy herself
with his destiny.

And now, by a strange and fortunate chance, we two were to
meet again on the burning sands of Egypt, who had parted in
happy childhood in the moist shades of my father’s hereditary place
in fenny Lincolnshire ! How strange! how interesting!

I sat down in a flutter of emotion to write a line to Sir Marma¬
duke, recalling myself to his remembrance as his “little cousin
Impulsia,” and expressing “ the delight I should experience in
making the acquaintance of his lovely lady.” (Mr. Shepherd had
already informed us that she was “ a remarkably fine woman.”)
The waiter returned with the verbal response, “ Sir Marmaduke
and his lady were at tiffin, —an answer would be sent.”

I confess, I experienced (it was unreasonable on my part) a
certain chilly revulsion of feeling at this dry, response to my
expansively worded note.

In about an hour I received a little three-cornered, rose-coloured,
musk-scented billet,—the device on the wafer, Cupid riding a lion.
I opened it hastily ; it was not from Sir Marmaduke ; it was signed,
Belinda ; it ran thus :—

Sir Marmaduke, whose Siesta always occupies the hours between
three and five P.M., has delegated to me the Pleasing Taslc of answering
the hind letter of his accomplished Cousin , and of expressing the Delight
with which he looks forward to a Bencwal of the Tender Ties of Amity
and Kindred. May I add from myself \ that I shall consider it not the
least advantage of our removal to England, that it will bring me in
contact with one so sweetly amiable as Impulsia Gushington , whose ad-
80

vances towards a Lasting Friendship I shall hail with corresponding
Warmth of Feeling . Sir Marmaduke’s habits of Dignified Seclusion , and
my own Delicate Healthy render us both averse to mingle in the Giddy
Whirl of Heartless General Society; but we appreciate the more the
charms of Individual Friendship and the refined Delights of a Bestrided
Circle of Sympathetic Minds; allow me, therefore, to appoint the hour
of twelve to-moiTow for our First Interview , and to subscribe myself,
with every Sentiment of Esteem ,

Your attached,

Belinda.

The elegance and grace of this note charmed the O’Whackers,
and indeed myself, though I secretly allowed myself to criticise
the abuse of capital letters it displayed. The sentiments were,
indeed, faultless. Moreover, there was an undertone of suffering,
of what the French call “deception,” of detachment from an
unsatisfying world, that irresistibly enlisted my sympathies for my
gentle unknown cousin.

The O’Whackers eagerly desire a presentation to my relatives.
I need not say how much I rejoice in the prospect of becoming
the medium, and connecting link, between persons so calculated to
appreciate each other’s qualities.

17th .—At twelve precisely I knocked at the door of Lady
Fitzdoldrum’s private sitting-room, not without a certain fluttering
at the heart at the thoughts of my first meeting with Marmaduke.

A charming family group presented itself to my view; Sir
Marmaduke had evidently been employed in reading a newspaper
to his lovely companion, who was reclining on the sofa in a most
graceful attitude, playing with a feather screen. A handsome,
sulky-looking Hindoo ayah was fanning her mistress, and made a
beautiful contrast of colour and expression in the sweet domestic
scene.

But I must endeavour to realise the impressions I received
during this interesting interview.

Sir Marmaduke’s appearance does not completely come up to the
idea I had formed from childhood’s rosy recollections. He looks
older than I had expected ; has lost the curly locks I remember of

CAIRO.—FAMILY TIES.

old, and a good many teeth. His figure is inclined to obesity, and
the expression of his countenance is more somnolent than ani¬
mated. I should say that his memory is slightly affected by the
fatigues of official life, and the effects of climate. His manner was,
perhaps, rather less cordial than I had expected, though I feel
certain* of his kindly disposition towards me. I observed that he
twice addressed me as if speaking to my sainted mother. This
was a little painful; as also the circumstance that I could not
bring to his recollection any one of the thousand little charming
anecdotes connected with our childish intercourse, which remain
so vividly impressed upon my own memory. But we know that
the larger cares, objects, and pursuits of the male sex, must
necessarily render them less liable to be

“ Wax to receive, steel to retain ”

the delightful but unimportant details which take such hold on
women’s hearts.

As I gazed upon his furrowed brow, I thought of all the weighty
cares, and conquered perils—those pathetic wrinkles most probably
represented. I thought of Humbughabad and Diddlepore; of jungle
fever and tiger-hunts; of the responsibilities of office, and coups-de-
soleil; and as I dwelt on these images, I relinquished with a sigh
all idea of my obscure destiny claiming a place amongst these
important recollections.

Lady Fitzdoldrum impressed me most favourably. Her general
appearance is -very stylish and striking, and her manner has a
delightful variety ; sometimes inclining to an Oriental languor,—at
others, kindling into more than European vivacity. Her features
are not of an insipid regularity, but decidedly handsome ; the
complexion is even unusually brilliant, considering her delicate
health and long sojourn in Eastern climes; and the eyes re¬
markably fine, though a slight cast in one of them takes somewhat
from their general effect.

I do not think that she possesses great conversational powers, but
her brilliant smile and speaking eyes make up for any deficiency
of that sort.

I had entered the apartment with such a fountain of feeling
81

welling up within me, at this sudden resuscitation of long-buried
associations,—with so many sweet and tender memories knocking
at my heart and pleading for utterance, that I expected to have
only too much to say and to hear. Strangely enough, I found that
this state of the nervous system operated quite differently from
what I had anticipated. The pauses in our conversation were
singularly prolonged, and I found myself absolutely at a loss as to
what I should say next. I therefore rose after a visit of about
three-quarters of an hour, engaging myself to accompany Lady
Fitzdoldrum in her drive in the course of this afternoon; and with
mutual protestations of affection, and delight in the prospect of
our seeing each other very constantly during the ten days they
stay, I retired to my apartment.

18$A.—A most startling and unlooked-for incident occurred
during my drive with Lady Fitzdoldrum yesterday afternoon. On
reaching my apartment, on my return home, I found a letter from
Letitia O’Whacker lying on the table, written in much distress of
mind, and informing me “ that they had just received the intelli¬
gence that a dear and valued relative, (in fact, her brother ,) had
been struck down by sudden and alarming illness, (they feared, the
plague), and was now lying at the last gasp, without a friend near
him, in a miserable inn at Aleppo; that they had only time to
bid me this hurried and melancholy farewell, and to take this
afternoon’s train to Alexandria, as the steamer for Aleppo was to
leave that night.”

A postscript from the Major, signed “ your devoted Corne¬
lius,” written in a calmer but not less sorrowful tone of feeling,
contained a lofty and delicate allusion to the trifling pecuniary
obligation he was under towards me, and an assurance that his
earliest remittance from Ballybosh “ should be employed in
liquidating the debt he owed his charming friend, though he felt
that nothing could repay the debt he owed for so many hours of
enchanting intercourse with one whom he looked upon as the most
superior woman he had ever met.”

They both added the most warm and pressing invitation to
their castle in Ireland, and expressed an ardent wish that I

GAIKO.—FAMILY TIES.

should see, and judge for myself, “ the astonishing resemblance
of their celebrated picture, ‘ Pallas blessing the Athenian youth,’
which should henceforth, for my sake, far outweigh in value, all the
Raphaels, Correggios, and Tintorettos, which adorned the walls of
Ballybosh Castle.”

I felt low all the evening after receiving this letter; I know not
why, it preyed upon my mind. 1 passed the night without sleep.
I thought of nothing else. I regretted the loss of my friends ; I
regretted the melancholy condition of their brother; I lamented
the unavoidable suddenness of their departure. But, in addition
to this sorrow, there was an undercurrent of uncomfortable feeling
which I could not explain.

Alas! this inexplicable sensation of discomfort received a fear¬
ful interpretation this morning, when Mr. C., the Vice-Consul, hap¬
pened to call, and in the course of conversation carelessly observed,
“So the O’Whackers are off in their usual spasmodic style. I
wonder who has been lending them money ? ”

I am certain that I must have turned paler than my pocket-
handkerchief. In an agitated voice I assured him, that they had
been called away by the dangerous illness of their brother at
Aleppo.

“ Ah, yes, I dare say! ” said he; “ the health of their relations
is always precarious. They have had a grandmother dying of ague
at Larnica for the last three years; an uncle in the yellow fever

on board a merchantman at Smyrna; two of their cousins have
been having the Asiatic cholera, off and on, for the last ten months
at Antioch ; and Mrs. O’Whacker’s mother is subject to apoplectic
fits at Constantinople. They have been called by telegraph to
fifteen deathbeds, to my certain knowledge. It is the most un¬
healthy family-circle I ever heard of. The only wonder is that any
member of it should be still remaining.”

I could not mistake his meaning; the laughing devil in his eye
would have explained it, even if my own sorrowful heart had not
testified to the probability of what he asserted.

I was too much overcome to speak. He then, in a kind, consi¬
derate manner, observed, that he feared from my agitation that I
had been duped by very specious and unprincipled persons, well
known in this part of the world, and hoped I had not been
“ fleeced ” to any great amount.

I answered most truly—“Oh, Mr. C.! the hundred pounds I
gave them are nothing—less than nothing in my eyes. But oh, sir!
the deceived trust—the treason to friendship—the shock it has
given to the foundations of all confidence—of all affection! This—
this ”-. I could say no more, but melted into miserable tears.

Mr. C. is a most kind and amiable man. He has also much
knowledge of the world. • He has given me some excellent advice
on the subject of making new acquaintances: I shall religiously
follow it.

Plate XX

Plate XX.

BE LIN DA’S BACKHANDER.

22nd March. — When the affections have been deeply lacerated by
the perfidy of those we have loved and trusted, it is well to have a
refuge to turn to, in the security and protection of family ties. Such
is my happy lot. Had it not been for the presence of the Fitzdol-
drums, I think I should never have borne up, as I did, under the
pressure of my late heavy trial,—such a sense of desolation fol¬
lowed the first discovery of the O’Whackers’ unworthiness. But I
will not again allude to that terrible time—I endeavour to forget
it; and the amiable attentions of my sweet Belinda, have done
much towards obliterating the memory of those unhappy persons.

25 th March.— Belinda (we now call each other by these endear¬
ing names)—Belinda gains hourly upon my affections. It is not
that I consider her faultless—far from it; no one is more ready
than herself to acknowledge, that her temper is imperious and
irritable. But then, as she often says, “Heart, my beloved
Impulsia, Heart makes up for all! ” and I sincerely believe, that
no one has so large, so expansive a heart as Lady Fitzdoldrum.

Then again, I cannot deny (neither does she) that her manner
to her inferiors is a little harsh and supercilious; but one must
always fall back upon her heart , “ which,” as she says, “is in
the right place.” And who can doubt it? I am quite certain
that she is capable of the most reckless self-devotion. She may not
have hitherto enjoyed an opportunity of sacrificing herself; but her
nature requires it—positively craves it! As she often says, “ Only
give me an opening!—show me the gulf into which I can preci¬
pitate myself for the sake of one I adore—and—I ask it as a boon, I
demand it as a right— let me plunge in headlong at once ! ”

These are remarkable words; but she is indeed a remarkable
woman. There is something of the Jeanne d’Arc type in her
composition.

28th March .—Belinda gives me the impression of having known
some great, some overwhelming sorrow, and doubtless that sensi¬
tive nature cannot have escaped some wounds in the thorny path¬
way of life. She promises that some day I shall know her history ;
she hints that it is harrowing, and eventful. I feel that my acute
sympathy renders me worthy of her confidence.

It is a fine trait in her noble character, that one so formed to
shine in the “ beau monde,” to be the cynosure of admiring eyes,
should voluntarily seek the tranquillity of a retired life; but she
constantly affirms that “ for her—the heartless world has no attrac¬
tion.” In her position in India she might, of course, have had the
cream of society at her feet; “ but at an early period of her
existence she appreciated the hollow mockery of such happiness.”

“ A chosen few, my Impulsia ! a small circle of loving hearts—
such is the atmosphere in which my soul expands, and feels at ease.
Moreover,” she would add, “ let that chosen few be of the other
sex. Women in general, my Impulsia, are mere puppets, full
of pretension, and devoted to slander;—I turn from them in dis¬
gust ! Mine is, perhaps, too masculine and independent a mind;
I prefer communion with kindred souls.’’

Such are a few of the sayings of this extraordinary woman. Sir
Marmaduke appears to appreciate her thoroughly.

—•

BELINDA’S BACKHANDER.

3 Oth March—1 have just returned from the Fitzdoldrums’ apart¬
ment. I have need of calm—of rest—of sal volatile. My nerves
are much shaken by the scene we have just gone through.

I had gone to Belinda this morning by her own desire, as she
expressed herself to be suffering from that peculiar sensitiveness to
disagreeable outward impressions to which she is subject. I found
the moral atmosphere of her apartment charged with electricity.
Sir Marmaduke was sitting, sheltering himself, as it were, behind
his newspaper; the attendants, especially Nina, the ayah, were in a
state of trembling solicitude. My dear Belinda was evidently exer¬
cising astonishing self-control, and received me with her usual
affection; at the same time, I could perceive the latent symptoms
of internal commotion.

I must here mention, parenthetically, that I have lately made
an acquaintance at the table-d’hote, who has proved an acquisition
to our little social circle—a French gentleman, Monsieur Victor
Alphonse de Rataplan. Lady Fitzdoldrum had already met him ;
in fact, they had been fellow-passengers on board the steamer from
Calcutta. She had expressed strong approval of his appearance
and manners; I will not deny that they have also impressed me
favourably. He lias visited us occasionally. His visits are not
disagreeable to me. He is an enthusiastic “ Anglomane, and has
sometimes elicited a smile from Belinda and myself, by the almost
exaggerated degree of admiration he feels for “ les blanches filles
d’Albion.”

To return to my morning's visit. I had hardly seated myself by
Lady Fitzdoldrums side, and inquired after her health, than 1

happened to remark, that I had just received a note from Monsieur
de Rataplan, requesting information as to the hour we were to set
forth, on our little projected trip to Heliopolis. (This little excur¬
sion and picnic had been arranged by Lady Fitzdoldrum herself
two days previously.)

To my astonishment, this remarkable woman used these extra¬
ordinary words:—

“ Monsieur de Rataplan is a blackguard, and you are a fool!

I was perfectly speechless for a minute, but, recovering myself,
I was just rising to withdraw, in just indignation, when Nina, the
ayah, unfortunately dropped the fan she was using for her mis¬
tress’s comfort, which, still more unfortunately, in falling, just
touched Lady Fitzdoldrum’s elbow. Belinda bounced from her
sofa, like a tigress from her lair; knocked Sir Marmaduke and his
chair down, who fled like chaff before the whirlwind; and seizing
upon the unfortunate ayah, administered the most terrible castiga¬
tion with the jewelled screen she held in her hand.

It was a scene of indescribable confusion! In my efforts to sepa¬
rate Lady Fitzdoldrum from her victim, I received a severe back-
handed blow, intended for the unfortunate ayah, which, if the
screen had not been partially made of feathers, would most pro¬
bably have prostrated me.

I cannot bear to reflect upon a near relative and most excellent
man; but at the same time I cannot disguise from myself, that
Sir Marmaduke is, in some measure, deficient in moral courage.

Plate XXI.

3 o clock .—Sin Marmaduke having sent a pressing message for my
assistance, I returned to their apartment Lady Fitzdoldrum has
had a violent fit of hysterics, in which the united efforts of Sir
Marmaduke and myself were hardly sufficient to restrain her. She
repeatedly implored us to allow her to throw herself out of window.
We, of course, refused.

She has just called Sir Marmaduke a scorpion, and me—a cocka¬
trice.

4 o'clock .—Quiet is, in some measure, restored. The ayah is a
good deal bruised about the head, and her left eye is somewhat
injured. A bulletin from Sir Marmaduke just arrived:—

The sweet sufferer is calmer now, and expresses herself as more
at ease.

I thought at first that perhaps he spoke of Nina; but I find that
Belinda is the person alluded to.

Sir Marmaduke is certainly an amiable creature, but I think it
must be conceded that he is, to a certain degree, wanting in com¬
mon sense.

5 o clock .—A second bulletin from Sir Marmaduke:—

The martyred angel is recovering her strength. She has been
enabled to eat the wing of a chicken, accompanied by two glasses of
sherry. She sent for Nina, and in the most affecting terms expressed
her determination to forgive and forget the past. Pray come to us,
and share the cheering influence of her revived spirits.

Yours, M. F.

I really begin to fear, that Sir Marmaduke is little better than a
fool!

----

—

Plate XXII.

Miss Gushington receives a terrible Revelation. Monsieur de Rataplan is most -opportunely present.

Plate XXII.

HORROR!

31^ March. —My agitation is so great I can scarcely hold the pen!
A thunderbolt has fallen upon me—so awful! so unlooked for!
that I have been for some hours incapable of thought or feeling.

Lady Fitzdoldrum—I cannot bring myself to write the words!

Lady Fitzdoldrum—my soul revolts from the desecrated name!!

Lady Fitzdoldrum—in short—is not Lady Fitzdoldrum!!!

I must be calm! I will be calm ! I wish to be intelligible ! I
must endeavour to relate the circumstances that have brought
about the catastrophe.

This morning, after the events related in the last page of my
diary, I was sitting in my own little apartment, occupied, in fact,
in transcribing from my pencil notes, the various impressions they
had created in my mind, when the card of Monsieur de Rataplan
was brought in by the waiter, “ demanding if I was visible; ”
at the same time, he presented me with a letter from Mr. C., the
Vice-Consul.

I think I have already said that Monsieur de Rataplan’s visits
are not disagreeable to me,—that, in fact, they are rather the reverse.

This circumstance, combined with the fact that his name had been

connected with the outbreak in Bel-1 mean, in Sir Marma-

duke’s apartment, perhaps occasioned the little flutter that made
me at first overlook the letter in question. It was not until
Monsieur de Rataplan had been seated some minutes, and that I
had replied to his almost tender inquiries after my health and
spirits, that I observed the waiter was still in the room, and
remembered that an answer had been requested.

I opened the letter; it ran thus :—

My pear Miss Gushington,

In accordance with your desire that I should exercise a
certain degree of friendly surveillance, over your actions and associates,
in your present unprotected condition, I beg to apprise you immedi¬
ately of a fact that has only just reached my knowledge, and which
you ought to act upon without delay. The person calling herself Lady
Fitzdoldrum has no right to that name. She is, was, or should be, a
Mrs. Higgs, and has left two or three husbands in India. The wife of
Sir Marmaduke died some years ago. Let me advise you to return
immediately to England.

Yours faithfully,

B. C.

I remember reading this letter to the end, but such a deadly
faintness came over me, that the rest is a blank. When I came to

HORROR!

myself, I found that Monsieur de Rataplan had promptly called for
assistance, and was hanging over me with the tenderest solicitude.
My distracted ejaculations soon acquainted him with the cause of
my overwhelming agitation. He raved and tore his hair, and
implored me to allow him instantly to call out “ Sir Doldrum.”
But I reflected that my unfortunate cousin was really hardly re¬
sponsible for liis actions! I question whether he rightly under¬
stands his situation,—whether he really knows if he is married
or not,—in fact, whether he does not imagine, that this person is,
in fact , the original Lady Fitzdoldrum!

Monsieur de Rataplan informs me that he had for some time
suspected the character of this person, from what he had seen
during the voyage. He shudders at the recollection of the decep¬

tion she practised even on him! He assures me that he never
thought her the least good-looking!

I besought Monsieur de Rataplan to leave me. He assented
with difficulty to my request, and only on receiving my promise *
that I would admit him to an interview the following day.

I feel that the crisis of my fate is at hand! The restrained devo¬
tion, the latent ardour of Monsieur de Rataplan’s manner cannot
be mistaken ! I shall be glad of the opportunity for calm reflection
which this night will give me. My trusting nature has been so often
imposed upon, that I see all the importance of the determination I
am about to form. To-morrow I shall be better able to make the
momentous decision.

Plate XXIII.

THE DIE IS CAST!

Is* April, 1861.— I have suffered Victor-Alplionse to call me “son
Impulsia! ”

Even now, I hardly know how this all-important event has been
brought about. I had determined, after due meditation during a
sleepless night, to defer my final answer to Monsieur de Rataplan’s
addresses, until I could communicate with my excellent friend and
counsellor, Mr. C.; unfortunately he was called away to Alex¬
andria yesterday evening by official business, and Victor-Alphonse
was so urgent for an immediate reply, and I had been weak enough
to allow liim to discover how deep an interest he had already
acquired in my heart, so that, really, I do not see how I could
have avoided the determination at which I have arrived !

Moreover, I feel assured of Mr. C.’s cordial approval of my choice;
he remarked, in so pointed a manner during our late conversation,
that I “ needed a natural protector,”—and advised me so strongly
“ not to go wandering about alone,”—that I feel certain he had a
suspicion of the state of my feelings, and wished me to come to a
decision.

described his personal appearance; I know not what mysterious
feeling has till now restrained my pen ! It is most prepossessing!
energy and determination are its principal characteristics ; a flash¬
ing eye, that can melt at times into dove-like languor, or kindle
into penetrating flame; a manly form, more robust than slender;
a predominating brow,—such are its most striking advantages!
The other features are not strictly Grecian in symmetry, but they
have an irregular beauty of their own. He embodies, to me, the
cliivalrous image of the Chevalier Bayard!

His family is of the old “ Noblesse.” Circumstances which he
can explain, compel him for the present to “bouder” the court:
indeed, I can perceive that his sympathies are with the fallen
Dynasty. His fortune is not large, hut luckily my own little
independence renders this consideration unimportant. He was
quite astonished when informed that I possessed this fortune; he
seemed almost to regret it! “ Ah! mon Impulsia! ” he exclaimed ;
“ que ne puis-je ceigner d’un diademe ce front adore! que ne suis-je
un Rothschild! pour pouvoir ddposer a tes pieds mignons—les
tresors de l’univers! ”

Where, indeed, could I find an individual more suited to the
office of “ guide, companion, monitor, and friend,” than the noble
being who has now undertaken the task ? I have not hitherto
97

He urges our immediate union, but I am firm on this one
point. I must return to England; it must be under the roof

of my departed parents that our destinies shall be for ever united.

THE DIE IS CAST!

Decorum demands this sacrifice ; Reason and Feeling alike
applaud it.

I shall leave for England to-morrow. Must I—ought I—can
X—shall I—allow my Victor-Alphonse to follow by the next
steamer ?

[Note by the Editor. —The Editor regrets to state that Miss
Gushington did not return to England the following day, as she
intended. Circumstances of an extraordinary nature, and over

which she had no control, prevented her resolutions taking
effect.

It is also necessary to add, that Miss Gusliington’s adventures in
connection with her attachment for Monsieur de Rataplan, are of so
haiTOwing and heartrending a character, that it has been thought
advisable to consign them to a second volume, which will be forth¬
coming, should the public testify sufficient interest in the destiny
of the unhappy Impulsia. J

LONDON: PRINT2D I iY W. CLOWES AND SONS, STAMFORD STREET, AND CHARING CROSS.

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