creature, with large, dark, fiery, gazelle eyes, and very perfect acute features, a small aquiline nose-one of those profiles which are reflected upon the wall in distinct forms, perhaps a little too sharp. Her mouth is small and satirical; the lips, rather composed, betray a little temper. She is about the middle size of woman's stature, but very delicately formed and admirably proportioned, with the exception of her feet, which are ridiculously small. Her hands are small and pretty, but not so mignon. She knows this, and wears short dresses and tells you she prefers them, they are so much less untidy. She is, if anything, too sharp, witty, satirical, and intelligent quite a European little lady; speaks six languages-Turkish, Armenian, French, Italian, Greek, and a little English; reads the French novels by Dumas, George Sand, Balzac, Sue, and even Paul de Kock. She dresses alla franca, and very well and in good taste, her small, tiny waist generally encircled by a handsome Paris riband. A sylph-like creature, sprightly, amusing, and excessively lively; delights in teasing everybody; a little spoiled, but very ladylike withal; jealous of every other woman with pretensions to beauty, and cutting in her remarks about them; not a little given to gossip, and very fond of attention. Agop Celibe is very fond of her, and calls her Guzelim (my beauty). The old custom of almost servile obedience from children to their parents still exists amongst the Armenians. Guzelim has, however, pretty well emancipated herself; a tinge of this feeling is, however, still observable in the change of her manner towards her male parent. In summer they occupy a magnificent villa on the Bosphorus; their winter residence is at Pera. The Armenians of the better classes are very hospitable to strangers; indeed, they have many good qualities to recommend them. On a summer evening you arrive at their country-house on the Bosphorus, either on horseback or en caique, and are received with genuine hospitality. You are not asked, but as a matter course stay to dinner and over night. In the East, people dine late after sunset; eight o'clock is the usual hour. Immediately on your arrival, sweetmeats, coffee, and pipes are handed to you. This is a very pretty custom. Rose compot, or jasmine (they have several kinds, the one more delicious than the other), is presented to you. You take a spoonful, after which you drink a glass of water, and then proceed to coffee in filagree cup, and an amber-mouthed chibouk. If you know Turkish, that language is spoken, otherwise French is generally spoken with a stranger. At dinner, which is a semi-French meal, interspersed with a few Armenian, Greek or Turkish dishes, Bokona (Madame, the lady of the house), or Celibe himself, points you out the best morsels; and Katinka, who enjoys fun, laughs if you eat them out of compliment, and do not like them, and immediately renews the invitation. This young lady, though always humming airs, does not either play or sing. She does not care much about music except to dance to, and seems possessed of a sixth sense, which has found its seat in her feet. She loves dancing to madness, and luxuriates in waltzes, polkas, and mazurkas, but especially the latter dances, at which she is an adept. She loves to ogle with her large, almond-shaped eyes, and to fascinate you by their irresistible power. They express no sweetness, but great passion, and a wonderful rapidity of intelligence. Yet she has not a bad little heart either. Much sentiment is not, however, in her composition, though she is capable of strong, but I should not think lasting, impulses and likings-not exactly the lady to love and obey, but desirous of commanding obedience from the object of her caprice. Much of this capriciousness is, however, attributable to ill health, for Katinka is the survivor of six brothers and sisters, and is herself threatened with consumption; and at times she is low, downcast, and despondent, and the glassy brilliancy of her large black eyes, encircled in their pure Chinablue orbits, betray the incipient progress of that sad disease. In the winter, at the embassy balls at Pera, she shines with diamonds, of which her father possesses a great stock, as does she indeed herself, in the shape of bracelets, chains, diamond ear-rings, and brooches innumerable and of immense size. They are, however, only sported on grand occasions. There is some talk of her being married to a young Frenchman. She denies it stoutly, though she confesses to have a strong predilection for that gallant nation, and always tells me je deteste les Anglais, adding, in a satirically polite manner, "Mais vous faites exception-you are more a foreigner than an Englishman." Cokona, the mamma, wears the headdress of her nation, and retains in her apparel remnants of the Armenian costume. | sion, and travelled to Italy and France. A species of gauze turban, intermixed with He still loves to talk of le belle Siennese plaited false hair and ringlets, encircles her and the care Fiorentine. All his friends, forehead. She is a very kind old dame, with the exception of his present wife, with the remains of great beauty, very abandoned him on this occasion; who nervous and superstitious, and highly pre- proved to him the truth of the old proverb judiced. If a window is broken, she is out that a friend in need is a friend indeed. of sorts for the whole day, as a great She was at that time not linked to him in quarrel among the household must ensue. holy matrimony; she nevertheless sold her A door left ajar indicates a similar revolu- jewels to send him remittances. After a tion. Greek servants (all Rayahs) abound few years he was enabled to return, and about the house, all dressed in their cos- regained his old influence at court and tume, with that elegant hussar-like double amongst his countrymen. He married her jacket, loose petticoat trousers (not the out of gratitude, which betrays noble Albanian skirt), and the fez (red cap, with feeling and a heart even in an Armenian. black silken tassel) as head-dress. Many a pleasant evening had I spent at Agop Celibe's, at his villa on the Bos polka and mazurka, until I thought the gunpowder would run out at the heels of my boots, according to the old story, and I lay down upon the divan utterly exhausted, whilst the young damsel took a turn with somebody else, as fresh as ever. "One more polka-Oh! one more-only one,” until at last the unfortunate flute and guitar players, who had been fetched from the neighboring village, refused a further performance. Agop Celibe is a great horse-fancier. His stable contains two carriage and four-phorus, dancing with Miss Katinka at teen saddle horses, mostly presents from the Sultan or from pashas, all long-tailed, piebald Egyptians-ugly things, but especially valued by him for their peculiarities. The favorite, "Dervish," has a tail which trails for two yards upon the ground. It is plaited and tucked up, only being loosened for the inspection of strangers and visitors. His whole head is fleshcolor, one of his eyes bright blue, the other as black as jet. Agop Celibe delights in puffing smoke up his nose out of his chibouk, which the animal inhales with evident pleasure, puffing it out again with the tears running from his eyes. These horses are scarcely ever used. They are led out daily by the grooms. They are well fed, pampered pets, and, considering their sedentary life, wanting in spirit. They are all stallions. Coffee and a pipe are offered to you before retiring for the night, and when I have sought my chamber I have dropped asleep as if it was intended that I never should wake again. My visits to Agop Celibe have left pleasant reminiscences, and will remain amongst the most agreeable recollections that I can carry away from the East. In his youth Agop Celibe was a very There are Armenians of different classes, immoral character, if such a term can be and they are a people divided amongst applied to the East, and great sums were themselves by religious differences. The spent by him in the purchase of sensual schismatic Armenians hide their women enjoyments. It cannot be said that he under the yashmak, like the Turks. was a man of what is termed an amorous history of this peculiar people would be disposition, or given to adventures and highly interesting-their religious feuds escapades, but he was known to have and different customs. The above is numerous fair mistresses. He was once merely a faithful sketch of a family as I exiled from Turkey by the late Sultan, found them-kind, hospitable, and enterbeing accused of some financial transgres-taining.-United Service Magazine. Α ERIC From Dickens's Household Words. WALDERT HORN. IN SEVEN CHAPTERS. CHAPTER I. "ERIC!" "Carl!" These exclamations of surprise proceeded from the lips of two young men, who, after disencumbering themselves from various wrappings of cloaks and furs, found themselves suddenly face to face, in the middle of the coffee-room of one of the principal hotels of Stettin. In their haste to approach the fire, which was blazing as merrily as logs heaped with coal could blaze, they had nearly knocked each other down, and it was in turning simultaneously to ask each other pardon that they had each recognized a well-known face. The light fell full upon their animated countenances and sparkling eyes, as they stood in the middle of the room, their right hands locked in a hearty grasp, and their left still placed where they had seized each other by the shoulder. They were both fine specimens of early manhood. One, the tallest of the two, had a noble Teuton countenance. Rich brown hair fell back from a forehead of the finest intellectual development, whilst beneath eyebrows of a somewhat darker hue, looked forth large eyes of deep violet, which, whatever expression they might wear in repose, now beamed and flashed almost as brightly as the fire. The other, who had been addressed as Carl, had a Saxon countenance, the fair hair, the bright blue eye, the rounded chin, and, despite the fair skin, the bold, fearless bearing which distinguish that hardy race amongst all others. Why, Eric," said this last, "it seems but yesterday that I parted with you in sunny Rome. I little thought to have met with you here, in the frost and snow of a Pomeranian winter." "And little did I expect to meet you here to-night, my dear Carl. Where are you going?" "I am going to Rabenstein, to the house of a friend who lives in the neighborhood. I made his acquaintance in Munich last winter, and he promised me, if I would go and see him, to give me some wolf-hunting. And, as I was tired of Paris and the Carnival, I thought I would try Rabenstein by way of a change." "A change, I should say, very much more to your taste, my Carl. But you are going my way; why not come with me, an old friend, instead of going to see this new friend? I am on my road to Kronenthal, as you may guess. Ernst is going to be married, and I am to be his best-man. Come with me; you will be a most welcome guest, and we can have some wolf-hunting together. My brother has a rare pack of hounds. Have you told your friend to expect you?" 66 Oh, no," answered Carl. "I reserved to myself the privilege of accepting anything by the way, I might meet with more attractive; and I would rather go to Kronenthal with you, who have asked me to accompany you there so often. But your brother-what will he say to the presence of a stranger on when none but friends are usually present ?" an occasion "Ernst will make you heartily welcome; besides, you are not so great a stranger to him as you may think. I have often spoken of you to him in my letters, and he generally asks after my friend Carl, the eccentric young Englishman." "Too bad of you, Eric," said Carl; “I dare say you have given him a fine character of me." "I have told him, Carl," said Eric, laying his hand on his friend's arm, as they both stood near the fire, "what you are to me-my dearest, best, and truest friend. Ah, Carl! many a time but for your encouraging voice prompting me to fresh "To me, worthy Herr Wirkmann. I am Eric Walderthorn. So the sleigh is here, mine host ?" said Eric, after reading the letter. efforts, I should have despaired of myself. | give the letter, directed to the hands of It was you, and you only, who enabled the well-born Eric Walderthorn, arrived me to battle with the arduous trials which to-day from the honorable castle of Krobeset my path as an artist, and now—” nenthal ?" "And now, dear Eric, you are what you would always have become, with me or without me-not only an artist, heart and soul, but one who possesses the power to render his ideas visible. And this, owing solely to your own undaunted courage, energy, perseverance, and strong faith in yourself, under and through great difficulties. But, come, what do you say to some dinner? I am furiously hungry. What a keen air one breathes in these night rides!" "By all means let us have something to eat, Carl; but it must only be a hasty snatch, for we have another ride before us. I want to get to Kronenthal to-night. Ernst is to send his travelling sleigh for me. It will be a glorious ride by this glorious moonlight. The distance is but three leagues." "Don't go to-night, Eric, it is so comfortable here, and I had made up my mind to remain here to-night. It is cold out there, and I am tired; I have come a good long distance to-day." "Don't have one of your lazy fits, Carl; we will have something to eat, and after that you will be all ready for a fresh start. I know you Englishmen ; you are something like your own horses; there is nothing like a good feed for putting your mettle up." So the young men rang the bell; and the waiter appearing, something to eat was ordered to appear as quickly as possible. Whilst it was being prepared, a cloth, which rivalled the snow outside, was spread on a table drawn up close to the fire; and the young men chatted as young men do, who have lived together the rich artist-life of classical Rome. "By the way," said Eric, interrupting himself, "waiter, can you tell me whether any message has arrived from Kronenthal for me, from Baron Ernst Walderthorn ?" "I cannot say, honored sir," replied the waiter; "I will inquire of Herr Wirkmann, the landlord."" "Do," said Eric, and the waiter vanished, to reäppear presently, ushering in no less a personage than Herr Wirkmann himself, whose bald polished head shone again in the bright light of the blazing fire. "Noble sirs," said he, bowing low to the two young men, "to whom shall I "Yes, honored sir, and will be ready. whenever your excellency chooses to order it." "Then let it be made ready at once," said Eric, and the landlord withdrawing, the young men sat down, and discussed, with keen relish, the excellent production of the kitchen of mine host of the Geldernstern, worthy Herr Wirkmann. In less than half an hour, they again stood at the door of the hotel, wrapped up in their cloaks and furs. Before the door, a sleigh was drawn up, well lined with skins of the reindeer, while two huge black bear-skins lay all ready to form the outer wrappings of the travellers. Two fine gray horses, evidently of the English breed, pawed the ground impatiently, and snorted, anxious to be off. crimson body-cloths, ornamented with silver, sparkled in the bright moonlight, and the silver bells which hung from their head-gear, filled the rarefied air with fairylike music every time they tossed their heads. Their "What a pretty turn-out," said Carl, biting off the end of his cigar previous to lighting it; "I give your brother credit for his taste, Eric." "Ernst is a fine fellow every way," replied Eric, "and you will say so when you know him, Carl. Herr landlord, are the pistols put in ?" "Yes, honored sir, they are here," replied the landlord, pointing to the holsters fastened on each side of the reversed dashing-board. "All right," said Eric. "Pistols! do we expect to meet robbers?" said Carl, laughing. "The wolves have been very troublesome this winter, honored sir," returned the landlord; "but since the last grand hunt to which his excellency's brother, the noble baron, treated them, they have not been quite so obstreperous." "What a chance, if we could get a shot at a wolf to-night," said Carl. "And what a night! how bright the moon is! and the air, how clear! One might see anything by such a light.” Carl stepped into the sleigh. Eric, gathering up the reins, settled down into his place; the bear-skins were spread over them, and tucked in all round; and then, with a good-night to all, responded to by a chorus of grooms and stable-helps, who had gathered round to see the handsome sleigh and the beautiful English horses, gave a touch of the lash to these last, and they bounded forward, the sleigh skating smoothly over the frozen snow. The silver harness glittered in the bright moonshine, and the silver bells tinkled merrily in the cold night air, as they left the streets of Stettin, and emerged into the open country beyond. he For some time they proceeded in silence, as if each were communing with his own thoughts, or were awed by the deep stillness of the night. Not a sound was to be heard, not a creature to be seen. They seemed to be traversing a vast desert of snow. Everything was wrapped in the same dazzling uniform, by which the eye was almost pained. The light of the moon, reflected from the thousand points of snow, sparkling like silver in its rays, was increased to an intensity which almost equalled the light of day. The trees of the forest, along which they now skirted, stretched out their branches, encased in sheaths of glittering crystal. At first, the moon reigned alone in the deep blue sky; but now, small fleecy clouds began to appear, every now and then overshadowing her brightness. Presently a low moaning sound began to make itself heard, as if the wind were rising in the depths of the leafless forest. Eric seemed to listen uneasily, and to watch anxiously these ominous signs. 66 I hope we shall reach Kronenthal before a snow-storm sets in," said Carl; "I have no desire to be buried in a snowwreath." "I do not think it will be here so soon," answered his companion, "though I expect we shall have it here before long. The sky looks a little brighter again now. However, I will drive the horses as fast as they like to go." So saying, Eric touched their flanks slightly with the long lash of the sleigh whip, giving them their heads at the same time. The noble creatures again bounded forward with a speed which promised to outstrip all pursuers, snow-storms included. "“By the way, Eric,” said Carl, break ing the silence after some time, "what became of your last spring adventure? Did you ever see the lady of the Sistine chapel again? And did you find out who she was?" "Yes, and no," said Eric. Yes to the question as to whether I ever saw her again. I saw her three times after you and I saw her that morning, but I never could find out who she was, or where she had gone to, and I did not even wish to find out after a time.” 66 Not wish to find out, Eric? I thought you were madly in love with her, even the first time you saw her." "Call it love I felt for her then, if you like, Carl; but it is with a holier feeling I think of her now, than any earthly passion. It seems more to me now, as if she had been the vision of some saint or angel. I have her still before me there; those heavenly blue eyes upturned in rapt devotion; those twining locks of pure gold descending on the falling shoulders. I was very glad when she disappeared from Rome. Those three visits of hers to the gallery where I was making that statue of Canova, nearly drove me wild. Day after day I looked for her anxiously; and nearly gave up everything to hunt her out; but my better angel prevailed: I righted myself at last, and recovered not only my serenity, but also my communion with the spiritual, which is so essential to the life of an artist who would accomplish anything, and which at one time I seemed to have almost lost." "What have you done with the sketch you made of her, kneeling in the chapel, with the dark background of the long aisle behind her. I thought you were going to make a picture from it, and send it to the exhibition." "The picture is finished, and I have brought it for my mother's oratory. I could not summon up the courage to send it where it would be stared at by a hundred indifferent eyes. I could not bear to let others have a glimpse of a vision which seemed so entirely my own. Except you, Carl, no one knows I ever saw her; and I doubt much, if you had not been with me that morning, whether I should ever have told you, much as you are to me." "Well," said Carl, taking the end of his cigar out of his mouth, and lighting another with it, "if that is not what is called being in love, I do not know what it is. What would you care who knew |