that his
visit had but one object--to observe our convivial customs--we
immediately reseated ourselves, and filled our glasses.

As one after another the officers of the effendi's household passed
round the apartments, we offered them a goblet of champagne, which they
severally declined, with a polite but solemn smile--all except one, a
large, savage-looking Turk, with a most ferocious scowl, and the largest
black beard I ever beheld. He did not content himself with a mute
refusal of our offer, but stopping suddenly, he raised up his hands above
his head, and muttered some words in Turkish, which one of the party
informed us was a very satisfactory recommendation of the whole company
to Satan for their heretic abomination.

The procession moved slowly round the room, and when it reached the door
again retired, each member of it salaaming three times as they had done
on entering. Scarcely had they gone, when we burst into a loud fit of
laughter at the savage-looking fellow who thought proper to excommunicate
us, and were about to discuss his more than common appearance of disgust
at our proceedings, when again the door opened, and a turbaned head
peeped in, but so altered were the features, that although seen but the
moment before, we could hardly believe them the same. The dark
complexion--the long and bushy beard were there--but instead of the
sleepy and solemn character of the oriental, with heavy eye and closed
lip, there was a droll, half-devilry in the look, and partly open mouth,
that made a most laughable contrast with the head-dress. He looked
stealthily around him for an instant, as if to see that all was right,
and then, with an accent and expression I shall never forget, said, "I'll
taste your wine, gentleman, an it be pleasing to ye."

CHAPTER XLV.

A DAY IN THE PHOENIX.

When we were once more in the coupe of the diligence, I directed my
entire attention towards my Irish acquaintance, as well because of his
apparent singularity, as to avoid the little German in the opposite
corner.

"You have not been long in France, then, sir," said I, as we resumed our
conversation.

"Three weeks, and it seems like three years to me--nothing to
eat--nothing to drink--and nobody to speak to. But I'll go back soon
--I only came abroad for a month."

"You'll scarcely see much of the Continent in so short a time."

"Devil a much that will grieve me--I didn't come to see it."

"Indeed!"

"Nothing of t