shaking her open palm sideways, while the look of interrogation remains in the eyes. To strengthen the solicitation, the inquirer's head is shaken in unison with her hand. Shew me,' she adds, patting softly under her eye, and glancing to the slate, to indicate that her eye is looking out for the explanation. Thus adjured, the party who has penetrated the mystery proceeds judicially. In order that no mistake may arise as to any partition of credit in the discovery, she formally puts the question: Do you know it?' tapping her brow with the thumb-nail as explained above, while the eyes look interrogation. An energetic admission of total ignorance is made. The fingers of one hand touch lightly her brow, and are flung from it with force. This full confession is satisfactory, for her companion at once presses her lips together, and nods her head. She then beckons for attention, and one engrossment absorbs the two.

Out of twenty persons, say the statists, such and such a number are sure to be of this disposition, and such and such a number of that. I have not had my attention drawn strongly to it before, but the certainty of one or two whose propensity is mischief being hid like a leaven among school-children, breaks upon me as a beam of light when I see a little monkey stretching out to pull another's hair, and straightway wearing the appearance of being excessively occupied with his lessons. A countryman once criticised a work of art representing, amongst other things, a porcine family feeding. He observed that one of them at least ought to have had a foot in the dish. In like manner, representations of schools where all the pupils might have borne banners with the strange device Excelsior,' are surely defective in leaving out every indication that a leaven of earthliness is under the heavenly surface. The youngster whose hair has been pulled casts about for the offender, and probably made wise by experience, attributes blame to the party deserving it. But a mild denial and a look of innocence meeting him, his faith wavers, and he glances elsewhere. He catches a witness of the transaction laughing, and fastens upon him as the guilty individual. You,' says he, pointing to the person addressed, 'pulled my hair;' imitating the act. The accused shakes his head from side to side, and purses up his mouth into the formation it assumes when one utters the word 'no.' 'I am sure it was you,' says the accuser, bringing vehemently a clenched fist on his other palm, which is held open for the stroke, 'for you laughed;' striking rapidly his chin with the hollow of his hand between thumb and forefinger. The accused becomes angry in turn, and persistent reiteration of the charge kindles his wrath to flame. He blazes out with the strong monosyllable of three letters used by angry folks to denote that a statement made lacks basis of facts. A lie,' says the irate youngster, cutting once with his forefinger between his lips, and flinging the said finger towards the accuser.

Of course, a dialogue of this nature is not unobserved. He of the pulled hair appeals to the company generally, pressing his thumb upon his breast, and traversing with inquiring eyes the onlookers. He hereby asks if he is right. Many shaken heads say 'no;' but nobody betrays the real offender, who all this while is so exceedingly intent on his book as not to be aware of the commotion in his vicinity. At length, the corners of laughing eyes turning to this busy individual, and his known habits of mischief, confirm the first suspicion. When Mr Innocence looks up in wonderment, to ask what the matter is, the flashing eye of the aggrieved confronts him. Fox,' says the mimic action that at once salutes him. In representing this incarnation of cunning, the shut hand is grated along the cheek to the tapering chin, to shew the animal's conformation of face, while the head is held down and to a side, with the eyes looking askance. The effort to still keep on his mask of ignorance is too

much for the general forbearance, and indignant repetitions of the assertion that he is a fox meet him from every quarter. He then lightly and quickly with his forefinger brushes an imaginary speck of dust upwards from off his brow, hereby saying that it was nothing but fun, a mere speck of merriment resting on the surface of his mind, which a finger's touch will remove. Thus literally he treats the matter with levity. Many times,' says an onlooker spreading wide his hands, and fanning with them up and down, each wave of each finger denoting once. All the fingers wave to denote frequency. You are often in mischief.' 'You,' pointing to him, are bad;' shaking little finger. Very bad; striking one little finger across the other. Troublesome;' putting his hand to his breast, and slowly inflating, then slowly emptying his lungs, afterwards suffering his head to droop forward, as if too exhausted to support it. Mr Innocence does not relish this phase of the business, and accordingly becomes very anxious to go on with his lessons.

These are all bona-fide remarks made by deaf and dumb children in the manner mentioned. One can see from this that pantomime might be studied to more purpose than merely to render clowns on the stage grotesque. Besides being no bad addition to a traveller's stock of mental wares when proposing to visit rude tribes, a knowledge of sign-language might assist others than travellers in the way, for example, of eking out half-expressed ideas, when it is not exactly convenient to put them in words. Fancy the universal boon.

A RUSSIAN SUITOR.

My uncle, Mr James Ludlow, was one of the richest and most respected of the English merchants at St Petersburg, and he had often pressed me to pay him a visit. As long as I can remember, I had been an especial favourite of this uncle-my mother's brother -who had no son of his own, and who had always treated me with great kindness during his frequent visits to his native country. By degrees, however, these periodical trips grew few and far between; Mr Ludlow's health was not what it had been, and his intercourse with my parents and myself was limited to correspondence.

I scarcely remember how it came about that I was led to accept my uncle's invitation to pass a winter as his guest in the Russian capital. Some undefined ideas of bear-hunts and wolf-hunts, of gay balls and sledging-parties, tempted me to face the journey and the climate; while my father was strongly in favour of my going. I suspect that Mr Ludlow had written to my mother in more urgent terms than to myself, for she more than once 'wondered how I should like my cousin Caroline;' while my father made more than one jesting allusion to the probability of my coming back a Benedict. Now, Mr Ludlow happened to be a widower-a most unlikely man to contract a second marriage, and Caroline was his sole heiress.

The invitation was accepted, but a number of trifling causes combined to postpone my actual departure, and the winter season was already far spent when I arrived at St Petersburg, and took up my residence beneath my uncle's roof. Before I had been many days an inhabitant of the northern capital, I was as heartily in love with my pretty blue-eyed cousin as the fondest of match-makers could desire; but the worst of the matter was, that my affection was not reciprocated. Caroline-whom I had not seen since she was a little fair-haired child-met me with the frank kindness of bearing which our near relationship warranted; but I found no especial grace in her eyes, nor was I long in learning that her affections were engaged.

Mr Ludlow, in his blunt good-natured way, rated

me soundly for the delay in my arrival at St Petersburg, on which he laid the blame of the failure of plans which he now avowed openly enough.

You see, Harry, my boy, it was the wish of my heart, years ago, that you and my daughter Caroline should love each other. You are my dear sister's child, and I have no son of my own to carry on the business which Ludlow and Gregg have conducted here ever since the Emperor Paul's reign. You have been brought up to business-habits, will be well off when your father dies--I hope that it will not be yet, this many a year-and I never heard anything of your character but what pleased me. Carry will be well off, very well off, and is a dear, good girl, and a pretty girl.'

'Indeed she is,' said I, cracking a filbert with unnecessary vehemence.

My uncle nodded, and pushed the decanters towards me, as he answered: 'I wish you could have had her, Harry; but I fear she's in love with that Russian fellow-confound him!'

What Russian fellow? Although this conversation took place on the tenth evening of my stay at St Petersburg, we had already been a good deal in the gay society of the town, and I had seen, with a jealous pang, sundry wasp-waisted young officers and diplomates doing their best to fascinate the rich and pretty English heiress. But when Mr Ludlow named Basil Olgoff as the fortunate winner of Caroline's heart, I could not help uttering an exclamation of incredulous astonishment.

This Olgoff was a tall, dark-complexioned young man, about two years older than myself, and of a gloomy aspect and taciturn demeanour. He was a constant visitor at my uncle's house, but I had never felt the curiosity to ask any questions regarding him ; and I could not conjecture how Caroline could be attracted towards him.

Indeed, among all those gay uniforms, resonant titles, and sparkling orders, Olgoff's plain black-coat, gaunt figure, and sad face, had appeared to the utmost disadvantage, and he was the very last person on whom my suspicions would have fixed. It was difficult to guess what merits Caroline saw in such a suitor. Disposed as I was to take a sufficiently modest estimate of my own powers of pleasing, I could not see any superiority in looks or manners on the part of Basil Olgoff over Henry Walton. He was a baron, to be sure, but what of that!

I suppose I must have spoken the last sentence aloud, for my uncle readily rejoined: What of that, indeed! Why, Harry, you must not set my Caroline down as on a par with those silly English girls who fling themselves away on the first foreign puppy that flashes his trumpery title, real or fictitious, before their foolish eyes. We have seen too much of the grand world in these latitudes to be so easily gulled. My daughter might have been a princess twice, at least, since she came out in Russian society, had she and I fancied those who sought her hand, and who were higher and wealthier, ten times over, than Olgoff.'

He then went on to tell me that the latter was a neighbour of theirs in the country. My uncle had purchased a small estate on the banks of the Volga, not very far from the city of Nevskoi Novgorod, and it was there that he and his daughter spent the summer. Olgoff lived hard by, on a property small indeed as to value and extent, but which had been handed down from father to son for a length of time most unusual in Russia, where fortunes are commonly of quick growth and rapid decay. He was the heir of one of those ancient families of boyards, the old squirearchy of Muscovy, poor and barbarous in the eyes of the mushroom nobility of St Petersburg, but who render to that brilliant and corrupt court scorn for scorn, and hatred for dislike. The Olgoffs were one of those families which Peter the Great had failed

to remodel according to his imperial fancy. They had given up their beards and caftans at his will, but they had never flocked to his new metropolis among the Ingrian swamps, and they kept aloof from the frowns or favours of the sovereign. Basil's father had, however, been cajoled or forced into the military service, had risen to the rank of general, and had received the title of baron-a distinction little valued by a boyard of ancient stock, and which he esteemed the less from sharing it with the meanest of the czar's French and German sycophants. The old general had rendered some service to my uncle in times long past, and on this account the Ludlows had always been kind and hospitable to his son, their neighbour.

She

And now the mischief was done. My hopes were nipped in the bud; my uncle's plan for his daughter's settlement in life was overturned, and the house of Ludlow and Gregg bade fair to come to an end with the earthly tenure of its present chief. Mr Ludlow was very much vexed, but he was the kindest of parents, and the idea of thwarting his daughter's inclinations never seriously entered his head. was his only child, had been petted and indulged from the cradle, and he could not bear to give her pain, or to be harsh with her. He thought it his duty to speak to Caroline on the subject, but beyond a word of warning and advice he would not go. Paternal prohibitions and stern injunctions were as much out of his way as the impressive maledictions and fine speeches of a theatrical heavy father. He spoke, accordingly, praising my unworthy self, doing his best to set me, her cousin, in a pleasing point of view before Caroline's eyes, and at the same time expressing a not unnatural wish that she should marry a man of her own country and creed, in preference to an alien.

But Caroline's answer, though not quite direct, left no hope. She liked me very well, she said, as a cousin; she was in no hurry to be married, and so on. But it was plain to her father that her affections were engaged, and that if Basil Olgoff chose to make an offer, that offer would be accepted. My uncle groaned in spirit, but left his daughter full liberty of choice.

'Olgoff's not a bad fellow,' he would say to me in moments of confidence over the mahogany. But a Russian! the difference of religion and nationality is so great, that such unions have a thousand chances of shipwreck; and though the lad is a good steady lad, and the soul of honour, as his father was before him, he has inherited some wonderful notions of his own about church-matters-is not, indeed, an orthodox member of the Russo-Greek communion, but is what they call here a Raskolnik—a dissenter, belonging to some wild sect. To us Englishmen, it matters little how these people differ among themselves about ritual and discipline, picture-worship, and genuflexions; but the Raskolniks are enemies of government, and I should have preferred that my son-in-law should be at least in good odour with the powers that be.'

These words raised my curiosity. I knew as yet but little about the under-currents of religious feeling in Russia, but I made inquiries, and received copious information, if not always of an accurate nature. I learned that, in spite of the sheep-like docility with which the great bulk of the nation had followed the beckoning-hand of the czar-pontiff, many sects still set themselves in opposition to the state profession of faith. These varied much, from the Non-united Greeks to the strange heretics who followed the doctrines of certain wild prophets and martyrs, as singular, but more obscure than Kniperdoling or John of Leyden. All these dissenters were more or less under the frown of imperial power, according to their grades the adherents of the old order of things being viewed with simple displeasure, while the partisans of more fanatical and dangerous teachers were actively persecuted.

Horrid tales were told of these last, tales of cruel torture, mutilation, and death, ruthlessly inflicted on

voluntary victims, who thought to buy Paradise by creating for themselves a place of torment upon earth. But the authorities took every means to hush up such legends, and at the same time endeavoured by strict severity to extirpate this moral cancer from society. To which of these sects Olgoff belonged, I had not the remotest idea; nor, indeed, could I glean any information on the subject from my numerous acquaintances, who were in general only too communicative concerning their neighbours. Indeed, religion, except from a political point of view, was rarely spoken of; elegant scepticism, or an affectation of cosmopolitan indifference, reigned among the polished denizens of the St Petersburg palaces, and it was understood that the orthodox United Greek Church was an excellent church for the mujiks, the merchants, the soldiers, and the 'black people' in general. That Olgoff, in some outward respects, conformed to this church, was pretty certain; and beyond that nothing was known, though much might be suspected.

The winter went on with its biting cold, its snowstorms, its keen winds, its nights of starry splendour, and its constant round of festivity. There might be suffering in the suburbs, where the tshernoi narod left their wooden hovels to seek warmth by huddling in the steaming halls of the vapour-bath, and where bread and sour cabbage were dear, and vodki scarce, but there was no stint of revelry and mirth among the stately streets of the city. I stayed, although every successive week and day proved more and more clearly that Caroline's affections were engaged by the gloomy young Russian, and though it was manifest that she only cared for me as a near relative and a not disagreeable companion. Yet I stayed, though I can hardly explain the mixture of feelings which prompted me to linger on at the northern capital. My own hopeless attachment had a smaller share in this resolve than I was perhaps willing to allow, but I was in truth much interested in the strange semi-barbarous country, its wonderful contrasts, and quaint peculiarities; and, as habit lessened the pain of seeing another preferred to myself, I came gradually to take much interest in Olgoff himself. He seemed a problem worth solving, this dark, stern young man, whose reserve and gravity were out of tune with the light flippancy of metropolitan manners, and who seemed a living protest against the social system of the place. I have often watched my successful rival, sombre and thoughtful, in a saloon full of lace, diamonds, and gay uniforms, of fluttering plumes and fans, and the mingled hum of music and merry voices, until I could have fancied him some Puritan of the seventeenth century, saddening by his mournful presence the butterfly court of Charles II. When I call him my successful rival, I am not perhaps wholly accurate. In the first place, I had, I am happy to say, been too prudent or diffident to breathe one word of love in Caroline's unwilling ear; and in the next place, Basil Olgoff had never formally offered himself as a suitor. He was attentive certainly, visited often at my uncle's house, appeared at every ball or concert where my cousin was invited, and never shewed the slightest sign of caring for any other feminine society, but he remained mute, and I often wondered why.

At last, towards the end of the season, when the melted snow was pouring torrents of dirty water down the streets, till lately paved with a pure white crust of glittering crystals, when sledges were thrust into the coach-house, and carriages began to splash and struggle along the quays, Baron Olgoff spoke out. My uncle came to me in some dudgeon.

Well, Harry, boy, you must give Caroline joyshe is to be a baroness, after all, for that dumb suitor of ours has found his tongue, and be hanged to him! Don't wince, nephew. I'd rather have given her to you, fifty times over, but I never thwarted my girl yet, and I could not find the heart to say no, as I

longed to do, when she came an hour ago, all tears and blushes, to tell me of Olgoff's proposal. Heaven bless her; I hope she'll be happy, but I must say I have my doubts.'

So had I. Very serious doubts indeed. Not that I was unjust enough to deny that Basil Olgoff was in some respects worthy of his good-luck. In spite of the young boyard's icy reserve, there were flashes of good and noble feeling which broke from him at times, and I had discovered that his principles and sentiments were modelled on a far higher standard than that of most of his equals in rank. But there was something hidden, something kept back. I often felt the conviction that Olgoff was not entirely frank with us, but for my very life I could not have explained my reasons for so deeming. However, I could not contemplate Caroline's sunny beauty beside his gloomy brow and dark watchful eyes, without an undefined presentiment of evil.

I do not think my uncle felt precisely as I did. His objections to the marriage were plain enough. He had wanted Caroline to choose an English husband; if her cousin, so much the better, but at anyrate he disliked her union with a foreigner, a Russian, and a member of a different church. It was painful to the sturdy British merchant to think of the old house of Ludlow and Gregg changing its name, of his grandchildren growing up to speak the Muscovite tongue, to have Russian feelings and habits, and to bow before gaudy pictures and flaring candles at the bidding of a Papas of the Greek fold. He could not bring himself to deny Caroline her free choice, but he deferred the actual wedding as long as he possibly could, hoping, as he confessed to me, that the young people might change their minds, or that something might occur to break off the match. He insisted that the time of betrothal should include the whole summer and autumn, and that when the family returned to St Petersburg for the winter season ensuing, it would be quite time enough to celebrate the marriage.

Yielding on all other points, on this Mr Ludlow was inflexible, and it was settled that the wedding should be deferred till the Christmas following. In the meantime the affianced couple would not be absolutely separated, since my uncle's summer abode was at a place called Vailinga, situated, as I have previously said, near New Novgorod, and on the banks of the Volga, while Baron Olgoff was his next neighbour. Somewhat to my surprise, Mr Ludlow gave me a warm invitation to spend the summer, or at least a part of it, on this small estate, in a country where, as he said, game abounded and sportsmen were scarce, and where travellers seldom penetrated. I believe my worthy uncle, who was a tenacious, though a most kindly man, secretly hoped that in the course of the summer something might occur to break the engagement; that a longer acquaintance with Olgoff's apparently unattractive disposition might chill Caroline's feelings towards him; and that his daughter might be tempted to transfer her affections to her kinsman-myself. I entertained few or no hopes of the sort. Indeed I was fast schooling myself into viewing Caroline with merely brotherly interest, but I felt an invincible apprehension on her account; and though I rather liked Olgoff, I could not but regard the attachment as an ill-starred one. Again, I was really curious to see provincial Russia, to enjoy the wild sports of the forest, and to make an exploring expedition among the spurs of the Ural, since I had a taste for geology, and was at least as much at home with the hammer as the fowling-piece or rifle.

I accepted my uncle's invitation; we set out together as soon as the snow was thoroughly melted, and travelled by easy stages to Vailinga. My uncle's house, built of the soft stone common in the province, stood on a sort of bluff or rising-ground, fringed with trees, and so situated that a sinuous twist of the Volga almost converted it into an island. On three