"By the grace of God it was," was the affable reply, which made it a very pretty conversation as it stood.

Leisurlie then suggested, in rather a general manner,

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Täib, täib," (good, good.)

The venerable visitor smiled, and retorted,

"Täib Kateir," (very good.)

A pause naturally ensued, yet I was not discouraged. It seemed to me that the visit and the conversation were advancing as favorably, and much in the same manner, as other morning calls I remembered, and I rubbed my hands with satisfaction as if delectable news had been broached.

Meanwhile Golden Sleeve had disappeared, to return with chibouques and to order coffee, and we sat blandly smiling upon our guest and upon each other-while the old gentleman surveyed our apartment, and took up a gilt-bound book, a gay pen-wiper, and other little objects of a traveller's table, which he examined with great interest, and pronounced—

"Täib Kateir."

He then propounded an inquiry in choice Arabic, very slowly and distinctly, and very loudly, as if we were all deaf. Not having the faintest idea of what was asked, we smiled blandly again, but said nothing. Upon a repetition of the question, however, as in our parley with the guards at the gate of the city, we undertook a speech in parts, like a catch.

Leisurlie, with a beaming smile, commenced-
La," (no.)

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I ventured as before

"Bukara," (to-morrow.)

And the sententions Pacha gravely concluded with, “Kooltooluk."

Which is a very terrible oath.

The Armenian smiled, evidently perceiving that we were thrusting in the dark, and we all relapsed into smiling silence, until the Commander returned with pipes and coffee.

Then it suddenly occurred to Leisurlie that having this private opportunity of conversation with an oriental gentleman, it behooved him to charge his mind with such political and general information upon the East, as he could obtain from our friend. And he probed him upon the political side.

Alas! the old gentleman's information was an apple of Sodom, tasteless, and juiceless. In fact, he knew nothing about the "Eastern Question." And no happier was the result of the other general inquiries with which gentlemen of different parts of the world consider it their duty to perplex each other.

Leisurlie regained his beaming smile, as he discovered there was no hope of authentic information upon any subject, and in his grateful gladness of heart, he proposed that the venerable white beard of our guest should be incensed a delicacy of hospitality exclusively oriental. The wise men of the East, using the advantages which custom secures to them, have a pleasant way of clapping hands when bearded visitors arrive, and order slaves to bring chafing-dishes heaped with burning gums, of which the odor escapes through holes in the lid of the vessel,

and which, held under the beard, imparts a perfume that lingers for several days after. It is no more than a just homage to that manly ornament, of which we western men of razors have no adequate idea.

I commend the reflective reader to the quaint story of the beard of St. Nicephorus, as illustrating the eastern reverence for that appendage. It is told by Maundrell, who relates that Nicephorus was a person of the most eminent virtue, but the endowments of his mind were not properly manifested in his beard, for, in fact, he had none at all. "Upon occasion of which defect, he fell into a deep melancholy."

The Devil stepped in at this juncture, as usual, with offers of assistance, upon the signature of that little bond wherewith he takes security. But the Saint repelled the overture, although with ardent longings for the beard, and seizing the downy tuft upon his chin-"for he had, it seems, beard enough to swear by"-to witness his firm resolution, lo! the hair stretched with "the pluck he gave it;" and "as young heirs (did the reverend chronicler intend a pun?) that have been niggardly bred, generally turn prodigals when they come to their estates, so he never desisted from pulling his beard till he had drawn it down to his feet!"

But just as we were about consulting Golden Sleeve as to the probable presence of a chafing-dish in the house, our visitor rose and took leave, inviting us most cordially to return his visit; which invitation, we, remembering Khadra, most cordially accepted-chorusing "Täib Kateir," as the venerable-beard disappeared.

The next morning led us to the Armenian Convent. It is full of great riches. The doors of sundry cabinets are of mother-of-pearl and tortoise-shell, and through such, I had no doubt, we should pass into the presence of Khadra.

Golden Sleeve ushered us up broad flights of steps, until we reached the spacious, sunny roof of the building. The doors of various apartments opened upon it, and at one of them the Commander stopped. It was opened immediately. A square little room was revealed, and the divan around the walls was apparently covered with bundles of choice and glittering silks and gold stuffs, which presently moved, however, and proved to be a party of Smyrniote Armenians paying a call.

The smile of the old man welcomed us, and we saluted the bales of silk and satin as we entered. The Smyrniotes all rose, and clustering together in gorgeous confusion, rolled like a brilliant cloud around the room, and then swept out of the door. Nor shall I ever know if there was a beautiful face among them.

But seeing the Armenian mamma, I bowed low and said-remembering her Italian capabilities—

"Fa bello oggi, Signora," (It is a pleasant morning, madam.)

"Si, non capisco, Signore," (Yes, Sir, I don't understand,) fell naturally from her lips.

They were the last words I ever addressed as conversation to the Armenian mother. But we renewed with the old gentleman the exciting themes of yesterday, and complacently sat silent in our own smoke.

There was nothing in the room but the divan, and a scant strip of carpet before it. But it was sunny and cheerful, and the Armenian mother looked as maternal as any other. Presently, the father summoned a slave and dispatched him from the room, and a moment after, the dreamy eyes were looking in at the door, and the beautiful Khadra entered.

In truth a Houri, for upon a glittering salver she offered us the delicate conserves which only the Orientals,those honey-loving epicureans,—know. As the thick transparency melted upon my tongue, I saw only her richly humid eyes, and in the rose of Persia which flavored those sweets, I tasted but her glances.

I drew from my pocket the flower she had dropped in the church, and unobserved of the others, pressed it to my lips. A sudden light of remembrance and recognition flashed in her eyes, but it faded instantly into their usual moonlike dreaminess.

She passed to the others, and I marked the elaborate richness of her dress, and with the extremest satisfaction. Because brilliant and glowing stuffs, gems, and flowers, and gold, are the happy hints in Nature of that supreme human beauty to which instinct directly attaches them wherever it appears. And so in the famous portraits of the world are the beautiful women arrayed. The Arabian Poets are right when they clothe their heroines in magnificence, and enshrine them in garden pavilions. So under birds of Paradise melting in lustrous heavens, and under the luxuriant splendor of tropical trees, should the lover steal, enchanted, to that bower, and pressing