s in the air by way
of relaxation, and was beginning to remember that midday meals were not
unknown to man, when the negress before mentioned entered with a small
round brass tray, on which were two covered dishes. The middy lowered
his hands in prompt confusion, for he had not attained to the Moors'
sublime indifference to the opinion or thought of slaves.

He was about to speak, but checked the impulse. It was wiser to hold
his tongue! A kindliness of disposition, however, induced him to smile
and nod--attentions which impelled the negress, as she retired, to
display her teeth and gums to an extent that no one would believe if we
were to describe it.

On examination it was found that one of the dishes contained a savoury
compound of rice and chicken, with plenty of butter and other
substances--some of which were sweet.

The other dish contained little rolls of bread. Both dishes appeared to
Foster to be made of embossed gold--or brass, but he knew and cared not
which. Coffee in a cup about the size and shape of an egg was his
beverage. While engaged with the savoury and altogether unexpected
meal, our hero felt his elbow touched. Looking round he saw the gazelle
looking at him with an expression in its beautiful eyes that said
plainly, "Give me my share."

"You shall have it, my dear," said the artist, handing the creature a
roll, with which it retired contentedly to its cushion.

"Perhaps," thought the youth, as he pensively sipped his coffee, "this
room may be sometimes used by Hester! It obviously forms part of the
seraglio."

Strange old fellow, Ben-Ahmed, to allow men like me to invade such a
place.

The thought of the ladies of the harem somehow suggested his mother and
sister, and when poor George got upon this pair of rails he was apt to
be run away with, and to forget time and place. The reverie into which
he wandered was interrupted, however, by the gazelle asking for more.
As there was no more, it was fain to content itself with a pat on the
head as the painter rose to resume his work.

The drawing was by this time all pencilled in most elaborately, and the
middy opened the water-colour box to examine the paints. As he did so,
he again remarked on the familiar English look of the materials, and was
about to begin rubbing down a little of one of the cakes--moist colours
had not been invented--when he observed some writing in red paint on the
back of the palette. He started and flushed, w