just as in speaking you should not talk
fast or loud, for the Koran tells you:
"Endeavour to moderate thy step, and to speak
in a low tone, for the most disagreeable of
voices is the voice of the ass."

Indeed, it was observed by a famous
Arab: "Countless are the vices of men,
but one thing will redeem them all,
propriety of speech."

And again. "Of the word which is not
spoken I am the master, but of the word
which is spoken I am the slave."

The famous proverb, "Speech is of silver,
but silence is of gold," is a motto of Arab
origin.

A silent, grave people the Arabs, and a
polite one too as we said, very much given,
nevertheless, to highway robbery on a large
scale, which they call razzias in Algeria;
but the Arab's tent is always open to you,
and you get any amount of couscoussou,
camel's milk, or even roasted mutton if he
has it. You will be treated as  a "guest
from God," as long as you are under his
roof, after which, "Your happiness is in
your hands," which means that your host
who fed you in the evening may, at a
decent distance from his tent, rifle your saddle-
bags in the morning, and let the "powder
speak to you" if you object, after which
"Allah be merciful to you."

IN THAT STATE OF LIFE.

CHAPTER II.

WHEN Maud Pomeroy said, "Their only
idea now is to get rid of me," a very
distinct and growing cause of annoyance was
present in her mind. Among those important
guests who were at least once a year
bidden to the great battues of Mortlands,
was Mr. Durborough, of Durborough, one
of the richest men in the county. He was
a widower, of nearly two years' standing,
without children, rapidly approaching
fifty-five, and resolved to lose no time in
replacing the late Mrs. Durborough, who
had been of a sickly habit, by some strong
healthy young woman, whose appearance
should justify the reasonable hope that
the direct line of Durboroughs might yet
not become extinct. This selection of a
spouse upon hygienic principles, akin to
those which determine the choice of a wet
nurse, and uninfluenced by any other
consideration than that of birth—for Mrs.
Durborough must be well-born—was, it so
happened, easy enough. In very early days
after his "bereavement," as it was called,
when on a visit to Mortlands, where he had
not been since Maud had come to woman's
estate, he cast the eye of speculation upon
her fine well-grown figure, and determined
that she was the article he wanted. She
was highly connected, and there was a
certain fitness of things in the fact that she
was the stepdaughter of even a greater man
in the county than Mr. Durborough, which
clinched the matter in his mind. As to
her character, or mental qualifications, he
knew nothing, nor did it occur to him to
inquire. Neither did the faintest idea
obtrude itself upon him that his suit might
not be successful. He was Durborough,
of Durborough: that was the ruling idea
in his mind, which was of the narrowest
dimension, and she, though a healthy
young woman of high family, was poor and
dependent. Did the question admit of a
doubt?

After this, it is perhaps unnecessary to
say that years did not deal with him as
they deal with most of us, sprinkling our
hair with that salt which is without savour,
and bowing our backs to bear their increasing
burden. Age only dried him up by
slow degrees: he was as spare and upright
as at thirty; his hair still brown, and his
teeth sound; there was no sign of decay in
the wiry man of fifty-five.

On this first visit, Mr. Durborough had
done no more than cast an eye of speculation,
as I have said, on Miss Pomeroy; and
then drop a hint to Lady Herriesson, which
he left for six months to germinate. And
when fifteen months had decently elapsed
since his "bereavement," he came again
to Mortlands. By this time, the hint had
borne seed, and multiplied, and many little
hints had left their maternal nest, and
flown towards Maud. She was therefore
prepared as much as possible to avoid the
stiff silent man, whom pity for his loss had
drawn her to notice occasionally six months
before. He took her in to dinner every day:
that she could not help; but so speechless
was he upon these occasions, that she made
up her mind that Lady Herriesson's hopes
had led her entirely to misapprehend the
worthy widower. Then, again, she relaxed
from her severity, and talked to him, and
grew easy when she found how little
impression her amenities made. So it came
like a thunder-clap upon her when Sir
Andrew sent for her to his study, the day
on which Mr. Durborough was to leave, and
informed her that that gentleman had made
a formal proposal for her hand. Amazed