pounds six shillings and eightpence, and on
the chaldron by London measure of eight
pounds and two six-and-eightpences. Horses
were kept at home with even more determination.
Upon each horse, gelding, or nag,
there was an export duty of sixty-six pounds
and two six-and-eightpences, and upon each
mare a duty of one hundred and twenty-six
pounds and two six-and-eightpences.
The six-and-eightpences in all these cases
are so many little hyphens which connect
such tariff charges with the majesty of British
law.

In picking my way over this book I have
become suddenly bogged among such articles
as Dugeon, Duretty and Dutties. Being quite
out of my depth, I vanish.

A LITTLE REPUBLIC.

"WE were once strolling along the principal
street of Old Cairo that runs parallel to the
river, and looks with its small houses or cottages
on either hand—their lines broken by
drooping trees—something like the rough
thoroughfare of a green English village, when
seeing us stop at a brook leading down to the
waterside, a lad came up and asked us if we
wished to cross over into the island of Rhoda.
The Englishman there, he said, would be
glad to see us. These Easterns have delightful
notions of hospitality. The lad did
not know that we had already visited Mr.
Tucker, the most comfortable gardener in
the whole world, some years before; and on
the occasion of this visit had neglected to
renew our call. Our consciences smote us;
so we went down to the ferry-boat—the suggestion
was made in view of a piastre—and
submitted to be rowed across. Once afloat
there came a revelation. Mr. Tucker was no
longer at Rhoda; he might come back; but
of that no one was sure. His house was temporarily
inhabited by another Englishman,
who of course would be equally delighted to
receive us. We were not quite so sure of
that. However, the first step having been
taken, retreat would have been pusillanimous.

As we had not taken the ordinary ferry-boat
we had to row down the stream a little
way to a flight of stone steps, by which the
steep side of the island was to be ascended.
There are few strips of water more beautiful
than that branch of the Nile, bordered by
white villas, graceful kiosques, palms, sycamores,
terraces; and dotted with long painted
barges gently bending under sails that
spread out on either hand like the wings of
a bird—a huge bird of course, a roc, or a
Brobdignagian sea-gull. Even a Venetian
canal does not surpass it. We felt almost inclined
to forego our visit, and order the boat-man
to continue his melancholy chaunt and
take us elsewhere. There was a great galley
full of Levantine women coming up against
stream; and we began to reflect whether,
among the bright eyes that were glancing in
our direction, there was not a pair that
would like to go elsewhere too. That land
is best visited in company; but the ladies, as
could be divined by the baskets of provisions,
had come out with a very definite purpose.
They were pick-nicking—bound for
some landing-place higher up, some secluded
nook of the garden, perhaps some walled-off
Paradise where they could doze and dream in
the shade. A pleasant day to them; for the
lad who has kidnapped us signals the Englishman
smoking his pipe under an Indian Gaut
on the water side.

The Englishman turned out to be a Frenchman;
but this was not apparent at first, for
he was dressed in a native costume, exactly
like a Turk of the old school, minus the
turban. Most Frenchmen exhibit a marvellous
alacrity in adopting the easy drapery
and easier manners of the East. M. Armoire
was quite a Turk in externals. He received
us with a grave salute and an irreproachable
salaam. "Inglese," cried the lad, on whose
invitation we came, using the universal medium
of the East. The gentleman, who
seemed to have prepared himself to astonish
and overawe a countryman, at once set aside
his dignity and said in French, that he was
charmed by our visit. We threw the whole
of the blame of the intrusion on the ferry-boy,
who was rowing off with his piastre.
The human heart is inscrutable; but really
M. Armoire seemed sincere when he forbade
us to apologise.

"Cimber," said he to a little black imp
coiled up in the sun not far off, "go and fetch
my great pipe." The imp was away and
back before we had. recovered from our perplexity.
Cimber was not an Arab name that
we knew of. Perhaps it was a coincidence
in the language of Bagirmet or Dar Fertyt.
Whilst we were meditating, M. Armoire inquired,
quite naturally, "Is Scevola preparing
the coffee?" "Aiwa," replied the imp as
he stooped down to blow the cinder upon my
pipe; but we observed that the young rascal's
face glowed as much with a grin as with the
glare of the charcoal. If we had been the
hero of an Arabian tale admitted to hospitality
only on condition of discretion, we
could not have remained silent any longer,
had not a still stranger circumstance attracted
our notice. There was a large basket
at the foot of a neighbouring palm; the
cover popped suddenly off and up jumped a
little nigger, with huge frightened eyes and
a mouth so vast that it seemed about to
swallow the head to which it belonged. This
strange thing clapped its hands and uttered
sounds that we soon guessed to be meant for
"Vive la liberté! Vive la République!" "Ya
seedi" added the dark child, in Arabic, "I have
been two whole hours in this baske ; I promise
never to steal any more bananas; and I
plead for the intercession of this stranger."
"Spartacus," replied mine host gravely, "thou