green, the gale that lives in Arab tradition along those heights, like an awful Afreet, plunged suddenly upon us, and for a few moments the proud Ibis strained and quivered in its grasp.

The dark waves dashed foam-tipped against her side, and seethed with the swell of a small sea, as the Ibis

Behind, one solitary Cangie

spurned them and flew on. was struggling with a loosely flapping sail, through a narrow channel, and before us was the point, round which, once made, we should fly before the wind. It was clear that we had too much canvas for the pass. The crew squatted imbecile, wrapped in their blankets, and stared in stupid amazement at the cliff and the river. The ancient mariner, half crouching over the tiller, and showing his two surviving teeth to the gale, fastened his eye upon the boat and the river, while the wild wind danced about his drapery, fluttering all his rags, and howling with delight as it forced him to strain at his tiller, or with rage as it feared his mastery.

I did not observe that the Muslim were any more fatalists than the merest Christians. Mere Christians would have helped themselves a little, doubtless, and so would the Muslim, if they had known how to do it. Their resignation was not religion, but stupidity. The goldensleeved Commander was evidently averse to a sloping deck, at least to slopes of so aggravated an angle; and the crew were clearly wondering how infidels could rate their lives so justly as the Howadji did, in suggesting the mainsail. at the very feet of the inexorable Gebel Tookh.

Twice the squall struck the Ibis, and twice pausing and shivering a moment, she stretched her wings again, and fled foamingly mad before it. Then she rounded the point, and passing a country boat fully laden with men and produce, lying to under a bank, drove on to Girgeh. The baffled gale retreated to its mountain cavern to lie in awful ambush for Nero, and the blue pennant, whom we had passed already-yes, O Osiris! possibly to hunt the hunting Messieurs, nor to let them off for their legs alone. Then the Ibis furled neatly and handsomely her wild wings before the minarets of Girgeh.

X.

Verde Giovane and Fellow Mariners.

As we drift along, and the day paints its placid picture upon the eye, each sail shining in the distance, and fading beyond the palm-groved points, recalls our fellow-mariners. You may embark on the same day that others embark from Boulak, and be two months upon the Nile, yet never meet or only so rarely, as to make parting, sorrow. Yet as the charm of new impressions and thoughts is doubled by reflection in a friend's mind, you scan very curiously upon your arrival in Cairo, the groups who are to form the society of the River. Usually, however, you will come with one friend, nor care much for many others. Once in Egypt, you are so far removed from things familiar, that you wish to unsphere yourself entirely, to lose all trace of your own nationality, and to separate yourself from the past. In those dim, beautiful bazaars of Cairo, where all the wares of the most inventive imagination should be, you dream vaguely that some austere astrologer sitting cross-legged before his odorous crucibles, and breathing contemplative smoke, must needs be Icarian progeny, and can whisper the secret of those wings of the

morning which shall bear you to the uttermost parts of the earth.

All things seem possible when you actually see the pyramids and palms. Persia is then very probable,—and you are willing to propose the Ganges as your next river voyage. Yet the first Cairo eve, as the Howadji sat in Shepherd's dining-room, that long large hall opening upon the balcony, of whose stability some are suspicious, which overhangs the Uzbeekeeyah,-massively foliaged with December-blooming acacias,-there as they sat tranquilly smoking chibouques, detecting an unwonted tendency in the legs to curl, and cross themselves upon the cushions, and inwardly congratulating themselves that at length they were oriental, a brisk little English officer suddenly spoke, and said "When I was in the East." Heavens ! the Howadji legs uncurled immediately, and the words shoved them deep into the West-"when I was in the East!"

1

"And where were you then, Major Pendennis?"

For it was plain to see that it was Major Pendenniswearied of Pall Mall-and recruiting from the fatigues of Indian service in a little Western recreation in Syria and Egypt.

"Ah! my dear sir, it was when I was in Persia,”and the worthy Major waxed warm in his tales of Persian life, especially of that horsemanship whereof Apollo seems to have been the God-so graceful, so poetic, so perfect is its character. But no listener, listened so lovingly and long, as Verde Giovane. I thought him a very young

grandson of my elderly friend Bull. Verde was joyous and gay. He had already been to the pyramids, and had slept in a tomb, and had his pockets picked `as he wandered through their disagreeable darkness. He had come freshly and fast from England, to see the world, omitting Paris and Western Europe on his way,-as he embarked at Southampton for Alexandria. Being in Cairo, he felt himself abroad. Sternhold and Hopkins were his Laureates, for perpetually on all kinds of wings of mighty winds he came flying all abroad. He lost a great deal of money at billiards to "jolly" fellows whom he afterward regaled with cold punch and choice cigars. He wrangled wildly with a dragoman of very imperfect English powers, and packed his tea for the voyage in brown paper parcels. He was perpetually on the point of leaving. At breakfast, he would take a loud leave of the "jolly" fellows, and if there were ladies in the room, he slung his gun in a very abandoned manner over his shoulder, and while he adjusted his shot-pouch with careless heroism, as if the enemy were in ambush on the stairs, -as who should say, "I'll do their business easily enough," he would remark with a meaning smile, that he should stop a day or two at Esne, probably, and then go off humming a song from the Favorita, -or an air whose words were well known to the jolly fellows, but would scarcely bear female criticism.

After this departure, he had a pleasant way of reappearing at the dinner-table, for the pale ale was not yet aboard, or the cook was ill, or there had been another explosion with the dragoman. Verde Giovane found the Cairene