tells me that I shall not live until the morning," he continued feebly. "He asked me if I would like to see a clergyman, and I told him no. I have confessed my sins to God, and I want no man to act as go-between. But there is a weight upon me,—a heavy weight, -and there is only one man in the world to whom I can unburden my soul. That man is yourself!" The major drew back with a start of intensest astonishment, and for several moments the two men gazed steadily at each other, while the tick of the little clock sounded clearly through the silence. The eyes of the dying man were full of wistful questioning, but in the face above him there was no shadow of recognition-nothing but blank bewilderment and surprise. "No," he sighed wearily, "you don't remember me I never imagined that you would-but you knew me once. It is a long time ago You remember the summer of 1790, when you were serving under Lord Cornwallis in India, -when you set off on the march to Oussour and the " "Yes, yes, of course! And you were with us then? You were one of my men? My poor fellow, why did you not tell me before? And you recognized me the other day, even before hearing my name! Well, I am less altered than you, no doubt-no praise to me! And what have you been doing with yourself ever since? You have had your pension, of course?" The man waved his hand feebly. "I am coming to that. I will tell you all by and by. Sit down beside me. It is getting difficult to speak, and I have so much to say- Yes, I was with the army, but I was not of your men▬▬ Oussour was garrisoned, and we moved nearer the pass. Kutnagheri lay before "We" The major started violently, and the blood rushed to his face. "You mean to say that you were there,-that you were one of Lawton's men! And you escaped! We thought that every man of you had been cut to pieces. You escaped! You saw the last of him and can tell me how it came about! You were surprised, of course; but how did it happen that you- He stopped short as a sudden terrible suspicion flashed across his brain. Had there been a traitor in the midst of that gallant company?-a man so base that for the sake of his own safety he had been willing to betray not only his own companions, but the most beloved and popular leader in the English army? As the thought passed through his mind he drew himself back from the bed, so that the clothing might not touch him where he sat, and his face hardened into the likeness of an iron mask. The change of expression was too eloquent to be misunderstood, and the sick man winced before it as in sudden pain. "Don't judge me yet!" he pleaded, "not yet-until you have heard my story. I will tell you all We fol lowed the path until it ended, and hid ourselves among the rocks and trees. The fort was half a mile distant, and at night scouts were sent out to reconnoitre. The information which they brought back was insufficient; time pressed, and the captain was inpatient. Then-I had done good service before, and they trusted me— I went out, with two others! We separated, and crept along, hiding behind the trees and bushes - nearer and nearer-until suddenly-in a moment which keeps me here! It is that monument in the cathedral! I have spent hours of every day gazing at it. It breaks my heart, and yet-it comforts me! I look at the angel's face as she bends over the dying man, and I read the words which they have carved upon the marble, and I know that they are— true!" as it were I found myself surrounded. It was dark, and the wind was highI had heard no movement. They carried me back to the fort, and then-for they knew what my presence meant-they would have me tell the number and position of our men. I refused! Oh yes, do not scorn me too soon-I refused! If it had been a choice between that and death I would have stood while every man among them fired upon me, and have been thankful -thankful! I had been a soldier all my life, and had faced many dangers. It was not death that I feared, but," -the weak voice shrilled with agony,— "they tortured me! Do you know what that means, you who sit here calm and comfortable, and despise me for my weakness? The touch of the burning iron, the wrench of limb from limb? Oh, my God! a man is not himself-he❘ing over the old man's features, but, as is mad! how can he be answerable? I told all-all! I lay there bound hand and foot, waiting until they should prove the truth of my words. If I lied, I should pay the price; if not, my life should be my reward. You know the rest. For me, I was sent up among the mountains and kept a prisoner, but by and by I had greater liberty. I could be of use to them in many ways; they sent for me to doctor them in their sicknesses, and I was free to go about from place to place. But when the years had passed on, it began to burn within me the longing to come home, to tread on English ground, to see English faces, and hear the dear familiar words again before I died. It grew and grew until I could fight against it no longer, and I worked my way across the country, trading with the natives as I went, until I reached the big towns. Then I saw my face for the first time for nearly twenty years, and it was as the face of a stranger. I had been saving all this time, and had enough money laid by to bring me home, and to keep me from actual starvation. I came back to the old country, but the hunger was still in my heart-I could not ease it. I drifted to this city, and have remained here ever since. You would never guess what is the attraction "True, indeed!" replied the major bitterly. "If that thought comforts you, lay it to your soul that you have killed one of nature's noblest gentlemen. A man who spent his life in the service of others, whose memory is sweet in the minds of his friends until this day-ay, and whose influence is strong within their hearts, though it is twenty years since those black brutes shed his blood!" The grey hue of death was spread he listened to the major's words, his His voice died away in inarticulate murmurings, and for a few moments the major believed that consciousness had left him; but presently the closed eyes opened, and he spoke again in a tone of great sweetness. "It is coming very near. In a few minutes I shall be with God, and he will judge me; but you were his friendI think I could die in peace, if you could say that you forgive me!" The major hesitated. Horror of that sin which a soldier is taught to count the worst of all was strong upon him even at this solemn moment. He looked into the wistful face, and for a moment he wavered; then the remembrance of that awful scene at Kutnagheri swept over him once more, he thought of а hundred homes left desolate, of a gallant life cut short in its prime, and sprang to his feet with a gesture of aversion. "No, never! I cannot say it. It would be a lie. How could any honest man overlook such a sin?-Judas!" The sufferer drew in his breath with painful inhalation. "No, no-not that!" he cried, and his voice was as a wail of agony. "Not Judas-only Peter. Peter whose enemy overcame him in an hour of weakness; who denied his Master, and then gave his life for the cause; who played the coward's part, and then went out into the darkness and wept bitterly-my God, bitterly!" No pen could describe the intonation of that last word. A broken heart breathed through it with irresistible eloquence, and at the sound the eyes which had been bright with anger melted into sudden tears. It was only a moment as we measure time; but in that moment the major had time to remember many things-moments of weakness when the right had not conquered; secret sins unsuspected by the world, perhaps also unrepented; his own need of pardon and the divine forgiveness, which of old had transformed a vacillating disciple into the rock of the Church. A great wave of tenderness and pity filled his heart; he lifted the wasted hand and held it in a warm, close pressure. "Forgive me, my poor fellow, for my hardness of heart. Who am I that I should condemn you? If it will comfort you in the slightest degree to receive my pardon, you have it-full and unstinted. And may the Lord have mercy upon your soul!" The sunken eyes were raised to his; there was in them a shining depth of love, such as he had never seen upon a human face. The next moment they closed, and the last flickering breaths of life came from between the parted lips. The major tightened his grasp of the hand which he held between his own, so that while consciousness remained, the traveller into the great unknown might feel the presence of a comrade by his side; and when the peace of death was upon the still face, he laid it gently down, stretched at full length upon the sheet. The next moment he fell back against the bedpost, and though the chilly wind still blew into the chamber, the sweat stood in beads upon his forehead. The sleeve of the night-shirt had fallen back from the dead man's arm, and upon the emaciated wrist was engraven an old tattoo-mark-an anchor and the initials "F. L." From The Fortnightly Review. ON THINGS PERSIAN. Until the accession of his present Majesty Mozaffer-ed-din, King of Kings and Asylum of the Universe, to give him his full title, the death of a shah of Persia was invariably the commencement of a "Terror," if not of a struggle for the possession of the Peacock Throne and the Kaianian crown; the highroads would be impassable for travellers or goods, on account of swarms of marauders, who hurried to avail themselves of the traditional license of the time; agricultural operations would be at a standstill, for what villager would dare to leave the security of his mud fortress? In the town the merchants and shopkeepers would quit the bazaars, and in all probability their shops and offices would be plundered; the streets, deserted by day, were in the possessiou of the lutis (or thieves by profession) at night; no provisions of flesh or grain would be brought in from the outlying country, as the roads were patrolled by gangs of robbers, thus causing a sudden series of local famines, while the bakers would cease to ply their trade, save under compulsion. Now was the time for murder and rapine, the mau with a blood feud slew his enemy if he got the chance, for a crime of this sort might be committed with impunity in the traditional "shillûk" or popular struggle which always took place at the death of a king of Persia. The Persians themselves have long foretold with confidence a desperate fight for the crown between the rivals Prince Sultan Massûd Mirza, the Zil-es Sultan, the eldest son of the king, but | After a time his father sent him once not by a royal mother, and the Vali Ahd, Prince Mozaffer-ed-din, the present shah. Time was when such a struggle was indeed likely. The Zil-esSultan, governor of Fars and Ispahan, ruled over the whole of southern Persia, he accumulated a vast treasure, he commenced to raise and drill troops; what more congenial amusement for the impetuous and hot-blooded son of the tranquil Nussir-ed-din? But the shah grew suspicious, there could be but one reason for his son's military enthusiasm; he became alarmed, and ordered the Zil-es-Sultan to Teheran, where he remained for some time in the cold shade of the king's displeasure, in a sort of honorable captivity. From being the most powerful man in Persia, H.R.H. Zil-es-Sultan became a quantité négligeable in the scheme of Persian politics, for the king had taken much of his son's vast wealth, while stripping him of his governorships; and in Persia, without money the bravest and most astute of pretenders is powerless, for political adherents have to be bought with gold tomans, promises being of little worth in the game in which failure means death. The Zil-es-Sultan now saw that there was small likelihood of his ever attaining the throne, for the Vali Ahd, Prince Mozaffer-ed-din, had long been recognized as the shah's heir by the ministers of both England and Russia. His strong common sense caused uim at once to change his tactics, and he proceeded to openly express his loyalty to his brother; for the Shah Nussir-ed-din was now an old man, and in the Persia of the present day, as in the Turkey of the time of Shakespeare, when "Amurath an Amurath succeeds," possible rivals are shown little mercy. As a rule they are slain, generally privately strangled or poisoned, or after mutilation or deprivation of sight they linger out a miserable and forgotten existence in the fortress-prison of Ardebil. State prisoners for life, they are practically dead. It was a fortunate thing for the Zil-es-Sultan that he wisely and honestly accepted the changed situation. more as governor to Ispahan, but the rich province of Fars was given to another. In Ispahan the shah's eldest son remained politically quiet, a severe but clever governor, his province continued tranquil, and comparative plenty reigned there; but as for popularity, the prince's fall had been too apparent, and few Persian politicians of late years looked upon him as a serious candidate for the crown. On the late king's death, the Zil-es-Sultan hastened to express his loyalty to the new shah, and was duly rewarded by a message of confidence, in which Mozaffer-ed-din Shah graciously spoke of him as "my elder brother." Had the king's death occurred after a long illness a few years ago, it is quite possible that there would have been a desperate struggle for the crown; the very suddenness of the shah's death rendered an attempt to seize the throne impossible, and the peaceful succession of Mozaffer-ed-din .. certainty. Nowadays the prime minister is able to warn the governors of provinces to take the needful steps to prevent the lawlessness and mob rule that used to be a matter of course at the death of a shah of Persia, for he has the telegraphs at his disposal, and within a few hours he was able to assure the new shah that all was quiet, save in the neighborhood of unruly Shiraz, in which place the bazaars had to be closed for several days, while the Jews were besieged in their Ghetto, but had successfully defended themselves with stones. In Ispahan business was resumed three days after the news reached the town, and, save for the uprising of a few brigands from the wandering tribes, who have made the roads in southern Persia temporarily unsafe, and as a warning to whom four criminals were at once executed in Shiraz, Persia was tranquil. The body of the late shah was at once rudely embalmed and placed “amânati” in a coffin covered with Cashmir shawls; it will be conveyed to holy Kum, the burial-place and shrine of Fátima, the daughter of Iman Riza, the 1 "Stored," as a pledge is stored. eighth imam; and beneath the great | sovereigns and Russian imperials, and bars and ingots of pure gold, all pass with the bejewelled peacock throne, the spoil of the conqueror Nadir, to the fortunate Mozaffer-ed-din, who commences his reign as the wealthiest monarch in the world. | golden dome which glitters in the centre of the plain of Kûm, and can be seen for miles in every direction, and which is a favorite place of pilgrimage, the bones of Nussir-ed-din Shah, who in a way was a father to his people, will lie. The late shah was a good king, an amiable despot, a firm, wise, and merciful ruler, who had the welfare of Persia at heart, and was neither a tyrant nor a voluptuary. His pleasures were simple in the extreme; he was a sportsman par excellence, a man who delighted in the hunting of big game, a fine shot with gun or rifle, one who, like the late king of Italy, rejoiced in violent exercise as a relief from town life and the cares of state. The late shah was no idle or vicious despot; he did not smoke, and his diet was of the simplest, and he was a merciful king. | He it was who did away with the hateful custom of the shah presiding in person at executions. It was said outside the country that the late shah was a monster of avarice; this was hardly so, for the vast sums exacted as fines and bribes from the grandees of the kingdom were not spent in show and riotous living, but placed in the royal treasure-house as a nest-egg for the evil days that may come to his successors. The long struggle that took place between the late king and an arrogant priesthood lasted for many years, and the shah succeeded in shaking himself free of the mollahs, and in reducing their enormous claims upon the public purse. Persia is no longer a priest-ridden country. The vast wealth in jewels and specie left by the late shah will be inherited by the new one, and fifteen millions are not too high an estimate of its worth, the great globe of gold incrusted with huge gems being valued at one million sterling, while the historical diamond, the Deryah-iNûr or Sea of Light, and a vast treasure of gems, cut and uncut, among which are strings of perfect pearls as big as sparrows' eggs, form part of the largest and most valuable collection of precious stones in the world; these and the cellars full of coined gold, mostly English | Majesty's acceptance would be consid Nor was the great treasure left by the late shah wrung by tyranny from his ryots; he was able to accumulate vast sums in what is considered in Persia a perfectly legitimate manner. Just prior to the Persian new year the annual changes in the provincial governorships were made, and then the magnates of the kingdom would proceed to bid against each other for place and power. The actual cash value of the revenue of each province or district in a normal year was pretty well known; this sum had to be paid or guaranteed to the king; in addition a present, we should call it a bribe, had to be laid at nis Majesty's feet. Now came in the element of speculation. If the harvest was likely to be good, if the province should remain tranquil, the profit from surplus revenue would probably be large, and the king's governor would have a good chance of reaping a rich harvest, of being retained in office, of receiving a dress of honor, and a sort of social promotion by means of a highsounding title, as "Sword of the State," "Pillar of the Kingdom," "Shadow of the King" (which latter phrase is the translation of "Zil-es-Sultan"). These are among the high-sounding ones in present use; the recipient ceases to bear his ordinary name and is universally known for life by his title. Some of these Oriental life peerages carry a title which, in Western eyes, is almost comic. One Mirza Riza, an officer in the service of the Zil-es-Sultan was made Banân-ul-Mulk, i.e., "The Little Finger of the Province." In Persia, however, a title means a great deal, and confers nobility as well as precedence. If, on the contrary, trade was languishing, or a drought threatened, and once during the writer's stay in Persia no rain fell for two years, the amount of the present offered for his |