So, for the ladies, we procured a conveyance-which must be simply called a vehicle. I never saw its similitude in Long Acre. It held four, was open, and had a careless swagger about it. Attached to it by marvellous harness-a conglomerate, a cunning olla podrida of silk, rope, wire, old leather, tassels, embroidery, and bells-were two mules, which, with their characteristic stubbornness, had refused to share their trappings with the driver, and he was near*ly naked. The next thought was for provisions, which Mr. Shepherd, at the hotel, provided in profusion. Another donkey was ordered for the extra gentleman, and then the pretty companions of our trip were ensconced with difficulty -oh crinoline!—in the Egyptian jaunting-car. We also provided ourselves with a portable tent. Our donkeys were caparisoned in the same fashion as the mules, and I should very much have liked the whole cortége to have travelled down Regent Street.

When we were ready to start, we found the mules were not-their hoofs were inseparably sealed to the ground. We coaxed, cajoled, patted, beat, and pushed-but nothing would move these stolid creatures.

Lord B.'s brother suggested that perhaps they had been shod with gutta percha, which had adhered to the hot earth a brilliant idea, which so startled even the mules, that off they fled, hurling the joker, who had dismounted, violently into the dust. On, through the narrow unpaved streets, went they, with a recklessness only equalled by the escort which followed; past other asses and laden camels, pedestrians and equestrians, face-hidden women (save the lustrous black eyes)-past a whole hareem, and crowds of poor wretches blind from ophthalmia; across darbs or bystreets, upsetting water-carriers and beggars, terrifying nude slaves, Moslems, Copts, Greeks, Armenians, and Franks; on with a speed amounting to madness; and then, another dead stop of the mules -the ladies were precipitated into each other, and the Hungarian, whose donkey had followed closely behind, shot him on to the vehicle, where he remained for a moment or two in the attitude of a swimmer. The next thing was to ask | Lord B.'s brother to joke-a request

no sooner granted than the mules were off again we flew through one of the northern gates, and reached the Desert.

To ensure the Jehu's driving to the right place, we called out furiously “Eyn Shem, Eyn Shem," which, we were told at the hotel, signified the Fountain of the Sun, the Egyptian name being "On" -but our coachman was an Arab. We had now to slacken our pace, as the arid ground was strewn with numerous shells and petrifactions, though we could see gardens not far off, embosomed in luxuriance. The tall palms held their broad leaves out in the breathless sky, and that sky was one vast canopy of brightest blue.

We picked our way carefully, and about three miles from Cairo had the good fortune to meet a train of camels-fully one hundred and fifty,-laden with merchandise. Each camel, in this instance, had a man attached to it, and he was perched on the aminal's back, among the goods. But one hundred and fortynine of the men appeared to be sound asleep. It was almost an impressive sight. The long laden line must have extended one mile, for the camels were about thirty feet behind each other. Day after day, with their slow and silent pace, had they trod the Libyan Desert, as their species had done in the days of Psammetichus. Our course lay towards a village which we saw in advance of us, and which we reached in two miles more. Eastward was a small mountain of red sandstone, which the Natives call "El-Gebel-el-Ahmar" (the Red Moun

tain).

When we arrived at the village, groups of young rough Egyptians rushed out to meet us. They made all sorts of obsequious salaams, and were profuse in their compliments, which we failed to understand. We found out, however, that the boys were guides, and were assuring us, that of all wonderful places in the world, that village was without exception the most marvellous. A venerable-looking old man, an Egyptian, who could speak English a little, came forward to greet us, and convey to our minds, as best he could, a correct knowledge of his own worth and attainments.

"Me speak Eenglise dam good!" he said. Alas! how soon he had learnt one of John Bull's bad habits. -

"There there's a lesson for you!" said the ladies to us, proud of the opportunity of rebuke.

The old gentleman then informed us that the Holy Family once reposed under a sycamore tree, which he pointed out, and that they drank water from a well which he could show us if we chose. As we did not expect to find truth at the bottom of it, we gratefully declined his offer. We were now five miles from Cairo, but could get no glimpse of Heliopolis, though, if rightly informed, we were close to it; consequently, we called the ancient Egyptian into council, which resulted in his offer to accompany us-at which the boys set up a yell, and demanded "buksheesh"which they got when in close proximity

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"Well, Sir ?" I remarked. 'Eelpopslips!" he replied, with a smile of satisfaction.

"Eel what ?" I asked.

"Perhaps he means Heliopolis," suggested one of the ladies.

"Yees, yees!" answered the guide, rapidly.

Astonishment took possession of us. all. We were in the City of the Sun, and there was no city! Around us were a few columns, and broken obelisks, rich in sculptured inscriptions, and in age cöeval with the Pyramids.

There were just sufficient débris and ruins to mark the site of the classical city. With these we resolved to be contented, and proposed to pitch our tent, and assist Sir W. Rawlinson with the hieroglyphic inscriptions.

A raised earthwork encloses the space where the sacred monuments and obelisks stood, and the only remaining important one now is the Obelisk of Pharaoh. It is fully sixty feet high, and six feet square at the base.

Scanty as are the evidences of former grandeur, it is impossible to abstain from musing upon what Heliopolis

once was:

"What theme for sorrow or for scorn;

What chronicle of Fortune's doingsOf fate disastrous nobly borne ;

Of chances, changes, rises, ruins-
Of thrones upset, and sceptres broke!
How strange a record here is written,
Of honours, dealt as if in joke-

Of brave desert unkindly smitten!"

There are no traces of the magnificent temple, or its wonderful avenue of sphynxes, which Sesostris Rameses built two thousand years before Christ. Here the great geographer Strabo visited, here Euxodus studied for years. with Plato the "Academic Swan."

There, to our right, lay the ruins of Memphis, to which, from Heliopolis, the sacred bull Opis was periodically taken, to be immured in his holy temple-with two chapels, and a large court for exercise, at his disposal. He then-this sacred bull-became endowed with the gift of prophecy ; but did he ever prophesy a picnic like ours amid the ruins of the great City of the Sun? Perchance some day the New Zealander will stand where Macaulay prophetically placed him. The bull's birthday was celebrated by a seven days' festival, a golden shell was thrown into the Nile, and the crocodile lay aside its voracity for amiable gentleness so long as the festival lasted. Opis was not suffered, however, to live more than twenty-five years, and then was interred in a fountain;—and Belzoni is supposed to have discovered such a tomb on the very site of our picnic.

as

The Roman emperors came down upon the sculptured ruins of Heliopolis. a vulture upon a dead or dying camel: Augustus removed two obelisks, and placed one in his Field of Mars, the other, if I recollect aright, in the Circus Maximus. Caligula ran away with another, and adorned the Circus Vaticanus with his trophy. You will find it yet standing in front of St. Peter's; and in all probability it was erected in Egypt before the time of Moses. Nor has England lost her share. In 1820, the Pacha presented her with Cleopatra's Needle, albeit she did not appreciate the gift.

And here, too, and at Memphis, used Cambyses to drink so immoderatelyuntil, like Cassia, he did not know his right hand from the left. A few thou

sand years afterwards, instead of the clatter of arms, was a clatter of plates : the Celt and the Gaul were alike hungry, and so were the ladies. Therefore, we gathered to the banquet, and, with the sad example of the intoxicated Cambyses before us, ate and drank in moderation, as became honest folks.

Three hours afterwards, we stood upon the citadel of Cairo, and saw the sunset flood with its golden glory the plains of Goshen and of Heliopolis, while the darkening outline of the palm-trees on the site of Memphis lay against the lurid sky as in a preRaphaelite picture; and the silent sphynx gazed on, defiant of time, past or coming, until the last great sunset gilds the land of Egypt.

And thus ended our picnic.

HALF-A-DOZEN WHIFFS,

AND WHAT CHARLEY HARFORD SAW IN THEM.

By A TRICHINOPOLY CHEROOT.

"She has two eyes so soft and brownBeware, beware!"

THE scene on which Charley Harford gazed (now, by-the-bye, for the first time) was an Indian ball-room. It would have been hard to tell, from his expression of face, what that looker-on thought of all that was passing before him. Shall I describe him? I think I can spare you that.

Fancy any strong-built, handsome fellow you know and like, and remember that this is Charley Harford. His eye rested on various groups, and he smiled to see that we English people bring much of what is English to this Indian climate, leaving behind perhaps a little polish, a little good feeling, and, he thought too, a little modesty. But then he was a fresh arrival, an absurdly particular man ; old-fashioned too, and did not know any better.

"She's looking awfully well to-night, I think!" he overheard one of a group of men leaning against the door and wall, close to him, say.

"Yes: pity she should take up with that little fool Coverley because he's a lord!" sneered one man, with a tell-tale bitterness in his voice.

"Oh!" broke in another, with tre

"Besides, you know you promised me, dearest Mrs. Chalmers !" simpered a third in the crowd of men who surrounded a little lady with a peculiarly fascinating smile, and soft brown eyes, as she leant on the arm of her partner, at the end of the last valse before supper.

"I really cannot break my promise to Lord Coverley," she said, half-sorrowfully, as, all but imperceptibly compressing her partner's arm with her tiny gloved hand, she glanced deprecatingly in his face. He quite pitied her for having in her kindness of heart bound herself to that booby boy, when, he knew, she would have so infinitely preferred him; while a little shake of the head, and a little shrug of the shoulders, conveyed to the third candidate her hopeless misery in being separated from him, even while her first word to the intensely happy Ensign was one of thankfulness for her escape from "those stupid men."

On their way to the supper-room they encountered her husband, whom she stopped.

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Oh my dear darling! I've been looking for you everywhere, dearest ! Where have you been? I am so frightfully anxious about dearest Gussy. I do dread that new ayah neglecting him!" The Major was obtuse, as usual; and Mrs. Major, as usual too, thought him obdurate; and dropping her attendant's arm, she clasped her little hands round her husband's, and looking beseeching

ly up at him, murmured, like a dove cooing

“Would my dearest sweet mind going home just for a minute, to see how the pet boy is? I'm so anxious,

my darling! Then, as soon as you come back, dear, I'll go home whenever you like me to go, dearest !" Then, turning to Lord Coverley, she said-"I am o fond of my darling boy!"

"How I wish I were he!" thought the gallant little lord, but he only said "Now then, Major, out of the way, please!"

And papa went out of the way"went home to baby,-while mamma, spreading her magnificent crinoline over the chair on her left, sat down to supper, with that little Ensign who was a lord on her right.

Her bright eyes were keen, though so soft; and possibly her surprise was not so great as one might have supposed who heard her say, in the sweetest of astonished voices, when Mr. Harford rather unceremoniously brushed her dress off the empty chair, and sat down beside her

"You here, Mr. Harford !"

He looked kindly at her, though strangely, very strangely, and said quietly, with a half smile

"You were not then aware that I had come to Bhuggy póon? I should have called, but I only came here three days ago, and I have been very busy ever since. You have been out some time I believe?

"Awful work dancing on these stone floors; I havn't had pluck to try it yet. Not stone, eh? Wellmutty,' or whatever you like to call it. Where's Major Chalmers? I shall beg to be introduced. Try some of this stuff: what is itsyrup?-Oh, melted jelly !-ah! have some?" "Thanks, no.' "Not for me.Thank you, I'll have some beer." "He has distinguished himself very much. Fine fellow-Major Chalmers I mean. Going to have the V. C., eh? Well, I hope he will. Chance of going to China? H-m! Well, I don't know, don't know. Fancy that's all over now. Don't know though! Do you want a Mandarin to flirt with, by way of a change? Here, you have dropped your card. Is that the way ladies hint you are to ask them to dance in India?

Funny place this, very!-ladies seem quite independent! You want to go home! Of course you do. I've been six weeks out here, and I haven't met a woman yet who does not want to go home. Home!' Why the d-, I beg your pardon-why can't a woman make her home where her husband is ?"

"How were all your family when you left home?" interrupted Mrs. Chalmers, "for home England is, dear Mr. Harford, however contradictory you may be, and inclined"-here a slight smile gave an extraordinary brightness to her gentle face, the usual expression being rather a sad one- "and inclined to run down your country women, who, for the sake of their husbands, gladly sacrifice health, and too often"-here she sighed painfully, and a short hacking cough told plainly, to the young Ensign at least, that she knew by experience the truth of what she said"too often, alas! happiness, in this climate. Why do you men delight in running us down? You don't do so in England-why here? Some of us do, I know, go home, perhaps, needlessly; but honestly, as a class, I don't like to hear us run down besides, Mr. Harford"-and again the sweet reproachful smile played over her face, changing to one of almost mocking fascination as, bending her head so as to look upwards into his very eyes, with an expression of saucy inquiry, she added-" and besides, Mr. Harford, what could you do without us?" The look seemed thrown away on Charles Harford, so she let it fade into her usual gentle expression, and her plaintive voice. drove away all thought of aught save "ministering angels" when she said"And in sickness too!"

The Ensign felt the tone keenly, and nearly wept to hear one so young, so lovely, speak so like a Sœur de Charité ; and he hated the stranger-for, hardhearted brute, he.... laughed !

The ball was over, the good people invisible, pretty little Mrs. Chalmers at home, when Charles Harford prepared himself for the night's, or rather morning's rest, by winding up his watch, lighting his cheroot, and throwing himself on the most comfortable couch in the most comfortably furnished bungalow in Bhuggypoon. He was soon

half-thinking, half-dreaming; and as he puffed, his thoughts wandered far away and long ago, and he saw, in

WHIFF No. I.,

A dear old English home-not one of the new-fashioned residences for a genteel family, but a thorough old English house, standing in its own wellkept grounds; surrounded by fine old trees; serenaded, and occasionally deafened, by a colony of ancient rooks, who on this occasion seem inspired with greater noise-creative power than usual. Yes! he, Charley Harford, in his new bungalow in India, sees, as if he were there now, that tall old house, with the bare-branched elms, their black stems showing like delicate lace, the girls said, against the cold blue sky; sees it all, as it was some seven or eight years ago,-even to the white patches of dazzling snow on the trees and shrubs, and on the ground, many feet deep in parts, deep even here, on the lawn here, where stands a large party of young people.

Oh, those handsome fellows, the young Harfords! They are known throughout the county; famed as the handsomest, wildest, pluckiest, kindest boys in the world, from Dayrell, the eldest, who- -and then folk look grave, and glance at the mother, and whisper gently, that for the sake of those left to her, she does not show her sorrow, but that day nor night does the medal of her dead boy leave its place next her heart—and of none of the "six hundred" of Balaklava is the memory more cherished than that of Dayrell Harford! From him down to little Teddy, the youngest, the Pickle, the original Smallboy in fact, owner of that pony immortalised by Leech-" Who will do, g'an'pa'- -only he rushes so at his fences !"

Oh, those handsome fellows, and their friends!—and then, last, but oh, not least not least I know in their own or any one else's thoughts-least of all in an unfortunate Englishman's exiled to this far country-least of all to Charles Harford,—those fair English girls, with their bright, happy faces! Oh, those hats!-some curled up and some bent down; and some drooping and some stuck up !-Such petticoats!

plaid and plain; and embroidered and braided!-And such—such- -well! suppose we say-such boots! What would not an old Indian give for one glance at such a group-so hearty, so fresh, so living, with their clear voices ringing in the crisp, cold air, and, better still, the merry, honest, hearty laugh!

Ugh! Well might the Trichinopoly throw off a whiff of disgust! But the scene is still before Charley's eyes: let us watch-we shall see him presently as he was then, handsome as any of his cousins.

The group divides into pairs, and the "boys" (some of them men of two or three-and-thirty), swinging their own skates over their great broad shoulders on hockey-sticks, carry the tiny ones of their companions (for ladies are at last; thanks to the example of Her Majesty, beginning to think skating a not unfeminine exercise) in their hands.

Hurrah for the dear old country, and the merry Christmas time! "Here he is !"

"No, he isn't!—he's coming in the dog-cart."

"Yes it is!"

"No-it's his luggage !"

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No-it's Aunt Mary!"

Aunt

"So it is-hurrah!" And Mary being a very kissable little old lady, is taken out then and there, and kissed all round, and finally packed up again, and sent off home, having announced Cousin Charley's arrival by the same train; and before the old fly has lumbered out of sight a tandem dog-cart, driven by Cousin Charley himself, spins into sight down the hill. John is on the cart, and takes the reins as Charley jumps down, shaking hands -all round by-the-bye, though half the young ladies are strangers, but then, Christmas comes but once a yearhang formality! "Miss Julia Danvers." So! Well it is just as well to know one's companion's name in a long walk; for though Cousin Charley's skates are packed up, he has joined the party, and arm in arm, as they walk, the ice is broken (metaphorically) long before they reach the edge of the ice (literally).

She is, most people think, the prettiest girl there. Charley glances round, and registers one exception. Yet Julia