C scale and 'Wait for the
Wagon' on my brain, and can't get rid of them;" so that I verily believe
to my beautiful Vittoria Colonna Mary's present well-being is due as
much as my own.

We halted at a little military station on the borders of the Great
Sahara, about a week before Christmas-day. The weather was perfect, and
not too warm. A delicious, mellow atmosphere enveloped palm, and plain,
and mosque; the air, blown across thousands and thousands of acres of
wild thyme and rosemary, refreshed us like wine: we seemed to have new
souls and new bodies given us, and were as free from care as the
swallows flying overhead. Travellers never came to Teschoun, as this
little oasis is called; but we had placed ourselves under the guidance
of an enterprising Frenchman, who transacted all sorts of business on
the road between Mascara and Fig-gig, the last French post in the
Desert. His name was Dominique, and I shall always look upon him as the
most remarkable man I ever knew. He was as witty as Sydney Smith, as
clever at expediences as Robinson Crusoe, as shrewd a politician as
Machiavelli, as apt at languages as Mezzofanti, and as brave as
Garibaldi. Being a bachelor, Dominique was none the less ready to
receive us, and, with the help of an old Corsican named Napoleon, made
us very comfortable. When Dominique was carrying His Imperial Majesty's
mails to some remote stations southward, or had gone to an Arab fair to
buy cattle, Napoleon catered for us and cooked for us, and did both
admirably. Both master and servant spiced their dishes plentifully with
that mother-wit, never seen in such perfection as in crude colonies
where people without it would fare so ill.

"What are we to do for society for poor mademoiselle?" asked Dominique,
as he served our first dinner. "Monsieur can amuse himself with the
officers of the garrison, but there are no ladies here."

"When my brother is out, I shall stay at home and talk to Napoleon,"
Mary said, with a mock assumption of dignity. "I don't want to be
amused, Monsieur Dominique."

"Mon Dieu, mademoiselle! the officers of the garrison will fall in love
with you, and that ought to amuse you better than talking to Napoleon,"
Dominique answered. "It's a very dull life they lead here, these poor
officers; and if it weren't for hunting gazelles and hyenas, and
playing the deuce with the Arabs, they'd die of ennui; but a pretty
young lady like you will turn their heads soon enough."

Mary