notes to what seemed to me then a sort of But though the flowers returned home fairy in white. She stood on tiny feet, much crushed and dilapidated, and though she put up a delicate finger and sent forth we did not hear the song, it was a reality a sweet vibration of song in answer, for me until a day long years after, when I sweeter, shriller, more charming every in. heard that stately and glorious voice flashstant. Did she fly right up into the air, ing into my darkness with a shock of or was it my own head that came down amazement never to be forgotten, and then with a sleepy nod? I slept, I awoke; and realized how futile an imagination may be. each time I was conscious of this exqui- Alas ! I never possessed a note of music site, floating ripple of music flowing in of my own, though I have cared for it in and out of my dreams. The singer was a patient, unrequited way all my life long. Mademoiselle Sontag; it was the “Eli- My father always loved music and undersire,” or some such opera, overflowing stood it, too; he knew his opera tunes by like a lårk's carol. All the great, golden heart. I have always liked the little story house applauded; my father applauded. of his landing with his companions at I longed to hear more, but in vain I strug- Malta on his way to the East, and as do gled, I only slumbered again, waking from one of the company happened to speak minute to minute to see the lovely little Italian he was able to interpret for the lady in white still standing there, still whole party by humming the lines from pouring forth her melody to the thousand various operas, • Un biglietto - Eccolo lights and people. I find when I consult quâ,"” says my father to the man from my faithful confidante and sympathizer in the shore, 6. Lasce darem' la mano,'" and these small memories of what is now so he helped Lady T. up the gangway, and nearly forgotten, that I am not alone in so on. He used sometimes to bring Mr. my admiring impressions of this charming Ella home to dine with him, and he liked person. My confidante is the“ Biographie to hear his interesting talk about music. Générale," where I find an account, no Through Mr. Ella's kindness the doors of sleepy, visionary impression, such as my the Musical Union few open wide to us, own, but a very definite and charming por- and it was there I first heard Dr. Joseph trait of the bright fairy of my dreams, of Joachim play. Yesterday, when I listened Mademoiselle Sontag, Comtesse Rossi, to the familiar, happy stream flowing once who came to London in 1849: “On re- more before the crowding listeners, I could marquait surtout la limpidité de ses only marvel with wondering gratitude that gammes chromatiques et l'éclat de ses such a strain should have accompanied the trilles . . . Et toutes ces merveilles s'ac. opera of one's long life in all its varying complissaient avec une grâce parfaite, scenes and combinations. sans que le regard fût jamais attristé My father used to write in his study at par le moindre effort. La figure char- the back of the house in Young Street. mante de Mademoiselle Sontag, ses beaux The vine shaded his two windows, which yeux bleus, limpides et doux, ses formes looked out upon the bit of garden, and the élégantes, sa taille élancée et souple ache- medlar-tree, and the Spanish jessamines vaient le tableau et complétaient l'en- of which the yellow flowers scented our chantement.”

old brick walls. I can remember the torIt seems sad to have enjoyed this de toise belonging to the boys next door lightful performance only in one's dreams, crawling along the top of the wall and but in the humiliating circumstances, making its way between the jessamine when the whole world was heaving and sprigs. Jessamines won't grow now any struggling to hear the great singer of the more, as they did then, in the gardens of North, and when the usual box arrived Kensington, nor will medlars anļ vide for the “Figlia del Reggimento,” my trees take root and spread their green grandmother, who was with us, invited branches; only herbs and bulbs, such as two friends of her own, grown up and ac- lilies and Solomon seals, seem to flourish, customed to keep awake, and my sister though I have a faint hope that all the and I were not taken. We were not dis- things people put in will come up all right appointed, we imagined the songs for our some centuries hence, when London is selves as children do. We gathered all resting and at peace, and has turned into our verbenas and geraniums for a nosegay, the grass-grown ruin one so often hears and gave it to our guests to carry, and described. Our garden was not tidy watched the carriage roll off in the twi-|(though on one grand occasion a man came light with wild hopes, unexpressed, that to mow the grass) but it was full of sweet perhaps the flowers would be cast upon things. There were verbenas – red, blue, the siage at the feet of the great singer. I and scented; and there were lovely stacks


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of flags, blades of green with purple heads for the sake of old times. I don't know between, and bunches of London pride how I should feel if I were to meet one growing luxuriantly; and there were some agreeable, cordial gentleman, who used to blush roses at the end of the garden which come on horseback and invite us to all were not always quite eaten up by the cat- sorts of dazzling treats and entertainments erpillars. Lady Duff Gordon came to stay which, to our great disappointment, my with us once (it was on that occasion, I father invariably refused, saying

No, Í think, that the grass was mowed) and she don't like him, I don't want to bave any. afterwards sent us some doves, which used thing to do with him." The wretched to hang high up in a wicker cage from the man fully justified these objections by windows of the schoolroom. The top getting himself transported long after for schoolroom was over my father's bedroom, a protracted course of peculiarly deliband the bedroom was over the study where erate and cold-blooded fraud. On one he used to write. I liked the top school- occasion a friend told me he was talking room the best of all the rooms in the dear to my father, and mentioning some one in old house, the sky was in it and the even- good repute at the time, and my father in: ing bells used to ring into it across the cidentally spoke as if he knew of a mur. garden, and seemed to come in dancing der that person had committed. “You and clanging with the suoset; and the floor know it then !” said the other man. “Who sloped so, that if you put down a ball it could have told you ?” My father had would roll in a leisurely way right across never been told, but he had known it all the room of its own accord. And then there along, he said ; and indeed he sometimes was a mystery - a small trap-door between spoke of this curious feeling he had about the windows which we never could open. people at times, as if uncomfortable facts Where did not that trap-door lead to ! It in their past history were actually revealed was the gateway of Paradise, of many to him. At the same time I do not think paradises to us. We kept our dolls, our anybody had a greater enjoyment than he bricks, our books, our baby-houses in the in other people's goodness and well-doing; top room, and most of our stupid little fan- he used to be proud of a boy's prizes at cies. My little sister had a menagerie of school, he used to be proud of a woman's snails and flies in the sunny window.sill; sweet voice or of her success in housethese latter chiefly invalids rescued out of keeping. He had a friend in the Victoria milk-jugs, lay upon rose-leaves in various Road hard by whose delightful household little pots and receptacles. She was very ways he used to describe, and I can still fond of animals, and so was my father hear the lady he called “ Jingleby at least be always liked our animals. bling“O du schöne Müllerin,” to his great Now, looking back, I am full of wonder at delight. Any generous thing or word the number of cats we were allowed to seemed like something happening to himkeep, though De la Pluche, the butler, and self. How proudly he used to tell the Gray, the housekeeper, waged war against story of his old friend Mr. F., of the Garthem. The cats used to come to us from rick, who gave up half a fortune as a matthe garden, for then, as now, the open ter of course, because he thought it right spaces of Kensington abounded in fauna. to do so, and how he used to be stirred by My sister used to adopt and christen them a piece of fine work. I can remember, all' in turn by the names of her favorite when “ David Copperfield ” came out, heroes; she had Nicholas Nickleby, a hearing him say to my grandmother that huge grey tabby, and Martin Chuzzle wit, "little Em'ly's letter to old Peggotty was and a poor little half-starved Barnaby a masterpiece." I wondered to hear him Rudge, and many others. Their saucers at ihe time for that was not at all the part used to be placed in a row on the little ter. I cared for most, nor indeed could I imrace at the back of my father's study, un-agine how little Em'ly ever was so stupid der the vine where the sour green grapes as to run away from Peggotty's enchanted grew -not at all out of reach; and at the house-boat. But we each and all enjoyed farther end of which was an empty green-in turn our share of those thin green books house ornamented by the busts of my full of delicious things, and how glad we father as a boy, and of a relation in a mil- were when they came to our youthful poritary cloak.

tion at last, after our elders and our govOne of my friends — she never lived erness and our butler had read thein. to be an old woman used to laugh and It is curious to me now to remember, say that she had reached the time of life considering how little we met and what a when she loved to see even the people long way off they lived, what an important her parents had particularly disliked, just part the Dickens household played in our


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childhood. But those books were as much her. And then he inade a little speech, a part of our home as our own father's. with one hand on the table ; I think it was

Certainly the Dickens children's parties thanking the jeunesse dorée for their ap: were shining facts in our early London plause, and they again clapped and days — nothing came near them. There laughed – but here my memory fails me were other parties and they were very and everything grows very vague and like nice, but nothing to compare to these ; a dream. not nearly so light, not nearly so shining, Only this much I do remember very not nearly so going round and round. Per- clearly, that we had danced and supped haps so dear K. P.suggests — it was not and danced again, and that we were all all as brilliantly wonderful as I imagined standing in a hall lighted and hung with it, but most assuredly the spirit of mirth bunches of Christmas green, and, as I and kindly jollity was a reality to every have said, everything seemed altogether one present, and the master of the house magnificent and important, more magnifihad that wondrous fairy gift of leadership. cent and important every minute, for as I know not what to call that power by the evening went on, more and more peowhich he inspired every one with spirit ple kept arriving. The hall was crowded, and interest. One special party I remem- and the broad staircase was lined with ber, which seemed to me to go on for years | little boys thousands of little boys with its kind, gay hospitality, its music, whose heads and legs and arms were wavits streams of children passing and re-ing about together. They were making a passing. We were a little shy coming in great noise, and talking and shouting, and alone in all the consciousness of new ihe eldest son of the house seemed to be shoes and ribbons, but Mrs. Dickens marshalling them. Presently their noise called us to sit beside her till the long, became a cheer, and then another, and we sweeping dance was over, and talked to looked up and saw that our own father us as if we were grown up, which is al- had come to fetch us, and that his white ways flattering to little girls. Then Miss head was there above the others; then Hogarth found us partners, and we too came a third final ringing cheer, and some formed part of the throng. I remember one went up to him - it was Mr. Dickens watching the white satin shoes and long, himself — and laughed and said quickly, flowing white sashes of the little Dickens " That is for you !" and my father looked girls, who were just about our own age, up surprised, pleased, touched, settled his but how much more gracefully and beauti- spectacles and nodded gravely to the little fully dressed. Our sashes were bright boys.

ANNE RITCHIE. plaids of red and blue (tributes from one of our father's admirers. Is it ungrateful to confess now after all these years that we could not bear them ?), our shoes were only bronze. Shall I also own to this

From Blackwood's Magazine. passing shadow, even in all that radiance ? ARCHÆOLOGICAL NOMADS IN RUGGED But when people are once dancing they

CILICIA. are all equal again and happy. Somehow We started with three months of nomad after the music we all floated into a long life before us from Mersina, a port of supper room, and I found myself sitting Asia Minor, real genuine nomad life in near the head of the table by Mr. Dickens, a hitherto unexplored district, without a with another little girl much younger than village or a town to speak of, up in the myself; she wore a necklace and pretty lofty mountains of “rugged Cilicia,” where little_sausage curls all round her head for this period we should meet none save Mr. Dickens was very kind to the little wanderers like ourselves; pastoral wangirl, and presently I heard bim persuading derers, who go from pasture to pasture as her to sing, and he put his arm round her necessity compels; whilst we professed to to encourage her; and then, wonderful to be archæological nomads, who went from say, the litile girl stood up (she was little one set of ruins to another in search of Miss Hullah) and began very shyly, trem- fresh material concerning a long ago de bling and blushing at first, but as she funct race of mankind. blushed and trembled she sang more and A word or two concerning this country, more sweetly; and then all the jeunesse its present and its past, before we dive dorée, consisting of the little Dickens boys into its gorges and lose ourselves in its and their friends, ranged along the supper maze of rock and brushwood. This distable, clapped and ciapped, and Mr. Dick-trict, known to the ancients as “Cilicia ens bent down to her smiling and thanking Aspera," from its rugged appearance, lies on the southern slopes of the Taurus | to acknowledge the conquering arm of mountains, where they push their spurs Rome, like the Highlanders of Scotland right down to the sea, and has for cen. or the Mahrattas of the Deccan, who turies been only inhabited by wandering fought a hopeless contest against the tribes, offering as it does no attractions to overwhelming power of civilization. the sedentary inhabitants of Asia Minor. We drove for thirty miles along a For the centuries immediately preceding wretched Turkish road which skirts the our era, it was inhabited by a race known coast, in a rickety carriage, to a spot to the Romans as the “Cilician Pirates,” called Lamas, where the mountains come who appear from time to time on the pages right down to the sea, and where we met of history, and whose misfortune it has the horses which were to convey us into been to have that history written by their those mountains. These horses had three enemies. They were then practically mas- owners, one Maronite and two Armenians. ters of the Mediterranean, and carried We had a servant to administer to our their predatory expeditions as far as Italy. personal comforts, and a curious individual Pompey reduced them in a big sea-fight in who called himself Captain Achmed, who the year 67 B.C., and planted the remainder was to act as guide and mediator between of them in a town by the sea, and hence us and the wandering tribes. A man of forward we only hear of them as peaceably no definite race, who dressed himself in a acquiescing to the yoke of Rome. Our fine Albanian dress though he was no Al. researches led us to respect these pirates, banian, bristling with quaint and useless and rather to regret their name, for they arms, he was one of those mongrel prodbuilt for themselves great temples to Jove ucts of the East who had, once upon a and Hermes, and mighty fortress towns time, indulged in brigandage himself, and with polygonal masonry in the heart of the passed many years in prison, but who in Taurus. They buried their dead in rock his old age had found a certain degree of cut tombs, embellished with fine figures in honesty the best policy. He had been relief on the rocks. In short, they gave handsome, and still was vain ; and though evidence of possessing a civilization in carrying but little luggage, in it was a botferior to none existing in Asia Minor. tle of hair.dye, which would stream down Their origin is lost in uncertainty and his forbidding face in black currents when myth — a wild mountainous race, who it rained. His great recommendation was gained for themselves independence after that he knew how to impose his authority the power of the Seleucidæ began to wane, on the pastoral nomads, and he would and who originally came under Greek in- have done the same on the archæological fluence four centuries before the Christian ones had they not at once reduced him to era.* Their kingdom, as Strabo, who is order by the threat of reduction in wages almost our only authority, tells us, was - a never-failing weapon when wielded called Olba.t They were ruled over by against an Oriental. priest-kings — priests of Jove, and dynasts Strabo, the geographer, was our only of Olba; and from the coasts of the Med- guide-book, and oddly enough one of our iterranean up to a height of four thousand horses was called Strabo by his Greekfeet in the recesses of the Taurus, this speaking master, because it was blind of district was studded with prosperous towns one eye,

one of those miserable quadru. and villages, now entirely abandoned to the peds of the East, totally unfitted for a Yourouks, as the Turks call this nomad mountaineering expedition such as race, from a word in their language, you-were about to undertake, which fell on roumek, to wander. There is a glamor every possible occasion, nearly about these mountain slopes, their deep drowning itself in a stream, and sending gorges and craggy heights, in their pres. our chatiels floating away; and again fallent state of utter abandonment, when one ing, with our jar of wine against a rock, tries to people it with a hardy and inde and thereby reducing us to a condition pendent race of freebooters who refused of enforced abstinence. The other five

horses of our cavalcade were moderate • Isocrates Panegyricus (Or. 4, § 161).

specimens of their kind, and carried us + Strabo, xiv., ch. 5, 10. * And then higher up than safely over many an awkward spot. this place (Anchiale, mod. Mersina) and Soliis a mountainous district, in which is the city of Olba, and a tem- We took everything with us - beds, ple of Jove, the foundation of Ajax the son of Teucer, tables, chairs, tent, and groceries — trust. and the pries: became dynast of Rugged Cilicia: then many tyrants succeeded in the government and formed ing only to find a sufficiency of meat and pirasical companies, and after the destruction of these, milk amongst the nomad tribes. But in in our days even it is called the Teucrid dynasty and the former case we were doomed to disapthe priesthood of Teucer." See also Head, Nummorum,"

pointment, owing to two somewhat differ




on Olba.


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ent causes. In the first place, they would quired if they were not afraid of it, and if not part with their lambs and kids, because they never saw dread sights therein. the flocks had ron down during the recent No," said the oldest man amongst them; years of famine ; and secondly, the fowls “I and my father before me bave spent were scarce, because they had last year the winter months here all our lives, and found an excellent market for them at Mer- we have never seen anything. In fact, we sina, where the French steamer touches, call this hole Paradise, for we can tether and all the poultry had been conveyed to our camels and stable our flocks in it. But France for consumption during the exhi- there is another hole hard by, which we bition time. Consequently though milk call Purgatory, into which no one can de and butter were plentiful we had to con- scend.” So under his guidance we visited tent ourselves with the flesh of goats well this place. It is separated from the Corgstricken in years, and every one knows cian Cave by a sea of pointed calcareous that this is by no means palatable. rocks, and it is a round hole a quarter of

On the first plateau above the sea-level a mile round, with sides sloping inwards we visited three curious depressions in the to the depth of two hundred feet, all hung ground, averaging two hundred feet in with stalactites, amongst wbich countless depth ; one was eight hundred feet long, pigeons build their nests. Without a another was a quarter of a inile round, and good strong rope no one could possibly the third three-quarters. The walls of descend into it, and as we had not this these holes were of calcareous formation, wherewithal we were reluctantly obliged and had in places been decorated by the to forego the pleasure. Only once to my pirates of old with quaint bas-reliefs and knowledge has any one been down,” said inscriptions. At the bottom of these holes the old Yourouk.

“ About thirty years flourished the wild verdure of the moun- ago, a nomad shot a Turk, and dragged tains, - a dense jungle of carobs, pome- him still living to the hole. The Turk granates, myrtle, and prickly thorns; and clung to the roots which hung arouod, but Strabo told us how in his time flourished the nomad cut the stalks, and the unfortu. here excellent saffron, and I doubt not that nate man was hurled into the abyss. A he was right, for though we found none friend of his got a ship's rope, and went there, we saw abundance of it on the down to collect the scattered bones and mountains around.

gave them burial.” The largest of these depressions had a The old man also told us that the smoke cave at its southern extremity, eating its of fires lighted in the Corycian Cave way for a couple of hundred feet into the comes out here, and it is doubtless true; rock. This was the anciently famed Cory- for these depressions have been made by cian Cave, about three miles behind the one of those subterranean streams comold town of Corycos, which Strabo tells us mon in Asia Minor, and known by the was celebrated in ancient cult as the prison name of dudens, making its way to the where Jove kept bound the giant Typhon,* surface, so that there is probably an unand where in those olden days frenzied derground communication between the oracles were uttered by its priests. Here two. we found several inscriptions identifying Five miles from this spot there is a it, and accidentally by pulling down an third depression similar in every respect outer wall in the temple of Jove which to the Corycian Cave, with an old polygostood at the lip of the cave, we came nal fortress of the pirates built at its across a list of the priest-kings of this lip, and anciently entered by a sloping district, one hundred and sixty-two in all, road made of polygonal masonry. All the rulers of the race of pirates down to this older masonry belongs to the pirate the very last name before they were period, whereas the fine buildings by the formed into a Roman province. This last coast and the magnificent tombs and sar. name was that of King Archelaus, about cophagi were constructed after the Ro. whom Josephus has a good deal to tell us, maos subdued the district. The pirates whose daughter, Glaphyra, married the were naturally great devotees of Hermes, son of Herod the Great, and whose advice the god of illicit gain, and in our wander. was much sought after by that monarch in ings through this district we found three settling his family disputes.

cave-temples walled up with polygonal This is quite one of the most awe-in. masonry and dedicated to the god of plunspiring spots I have ever seen, and from der. From inscriptions we learned that the nomads who dwell on its edge we in this third depression was dedicated to the

• Strabo, p. 670; Eschylus, Prom. 351 ; and Pindar, Olbian Jove, of whom classic lore is silent, Pyth. i. 31.

though I doubt not in those dark ages he

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