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that large blue bag, took up the first letter | mistress wondering at and congratulating which presented itself. herself upon her own disinterested worth of character.

The well-known characters struck him instantly-it was the writing of his nephew Lord Killikelly called a council with himWickham. He held it in his hand for a self. The result was, that he assumed his moment, whilst he struggled against a feel-spectacles, and, though rather against his ing of choking and suffocation, and then inclination, conveyed himself to Bermondbroke the seal. This letter was as fol- sey, to try to extract the desired information from his communicative friend, Mrs. Philli

lows:

"MY LORD,

"The two most bitter and unhappy events of life have befallen me: the one that I have lost your affection, the other that I have deserved to lose it.

"Under these circumstances I should still more despise myself if I could continue to be the creature of your bounty. Since I have made it impossible for you to give me your regard, I find it equally impossible to receive anything less valuable. I shall endeavour to be so far a useful member of society

as to earn the bread I eat.

"With unspeakable gratitude for all the past, I am still your affectionate nephew,

"WALTER WICKHAM."

Lord Killikelly's heart felt very much like a pincushion when another pin is stuck in.

cody.

not the Mrs. Phillicody of the evening; she But Mrs. Phillicody of the morning was was at the least a dozen years older, and therefore a dozen degrees less good-huher best cap on, being rather what vulmoured; neither had she her best curls nor gar people call slommoking, (vide Johnson.) Phoebe too was caught in the fact of having her hair in paper, and her dress slipping off the shoulder-facts which might have been concealed from their visiter, had not the contagion of ill temper, which prevailed like a sort of epidemic through the house, spread to the servant, and she, acting upon that amiable feeling, threw open the parlour door, and introduced Lord Killikelly without giving the ladies time to retire to dress -a circumstance so far injurious to his plans as to redouble the clouds over their fair faces, and rather to harden their hearts towards him; but as Lord Killikelly entered, he saw at a glance that the fountain of this water of bitterness had its spring in a little cross consequential looking inan, that Lord Killikelly took his hat and sallied forth looked about as shrewdish as any little woto inquire of the amiable lady who kept the man in the world. He was sitting at a table ready-made linen warehouse the address of eating bread and cheese, and drinking ale, that poor, pale-faced, miserable-looking girl and adorned with a white apron, which who had to put the innumerable number of apron Phœbe tried to twitch off-a manœustitches, which baffled the powers of arith-vre which Mr. Philiicody, the soap-boiler, metic, into his shirts, and whom, with many a pang of heart, he had now discovered to be a relation of his own, and the child of that miserable pauper uncle of his, that had been so absurd as to die in the workhouse.

CHAPTER IX.

stoutly resisted and warmly resented. He was evidently engaged in the philanthropic task of pointing out a few of the trifling faults of his wife and daughter's characters, of course with the laudable desire of correcting them, and not at all for the pleasure of mortifying them.

In spite of his philosophy, Lord Killikelly's manner was irritated, nervous, and conscious, when he made the inquiry; and Muttering something about the “ women whether it were owing to that which gave the being nicely caught," the little man scarcealarm to that amiable lady's sense of propri- ly vouchsafing a nod to his visiter, went on ety, or whether she thought that his lordship swallowing great gobbets of bread and wished to get his shirts made cheaper by cheese, while Mrs. Phillicody, half cross having a direct communication with her herself, yet not so far gone as to be without work-people, we are not prepared to say. the wish of covering her husband's defalThe fact, however, was, that she was cations, tried to get up something like a conimmediately seized with a fit of moral dig-versation with Lord Killikelly. nity and scrupulous propriety, and, with “Pride and stuff," grumbled the soap-boilcertain insinuations on the danger of gallant- er;" pride and stuff! Pride always comes ry, offered to communicate any instructions to the dogs. You are ashamed of my apron, respecting the shirts; but totally declined Miss Minx, and I'm sure I'm ashamed of being the means of promoting a personal interview with the sempstress, ending with a few compliments to herself on her own disinterestedness in preferring so magnanimously what was morally right, though she knew that it was so much against her own interest.

So Lord Killikelly, turning upon his heel, with a few muttered expressions of irritation, walked out of the shop, leaving its amiable

yours-a piece of ridiculous French frippery, with sham pockets, and lace, and fringes, and bows fit only for a show at a fair. Now, sir, I appeal to you, that is, if you've a grain of sense, and if you have you'll soon show it, whether this substantial apron of mine, that helped to get me all my money, has not fifty times more sense in it than that kickshaw thing of my daughter's."

Lord Killikelly tried to say something

about the utility of the one and the ornament | however, with great alacrity, that all the of the other. world might see that Mr. Phillicody was, without exception, the most patient man alive.

"That's a come off," said the soap-boiler; "nothing in the world but a come off. But I suppose you are afraid of speaking out like a man for fear of the women. Here, you girl, reach me that glass."

"Well, I think you are a good fellow !" exclaimed the little soap-boiler; " will you come and have some bread and cheese with Phoebe's retroussé nose was more retroussé a body, and a glass of good home-brewed than ever, and tossing her head, and bri-ale?" dling and flouncing with a vast effervescence of indignation, she lifted the glass towards his place opposite to his host, who forthwith him, but, whether by a real or artificial ac- helped him to about a pound of Cheshire cident, threw it down and broke it into frag-cheese and the half of a quartern loaf. ments.

"Save the pieces," said Phoebe.

"There!" exclaimed Mr. Phillicody; "there! what an awkward thing you are! How did you do that? How did you do that, I say?"

Lord Killikelly immediately rose and took

And then the most patient man alive began to tell him all his affairs;-how he had begun the world without a shilling; and how he had got on till he could buy and sell all his family; how he had lived on potatoes and salt until he could now afford turtle; "So!" said Phoebe, with the most perfect and that though his wife and his daughter exultation of impertinence-" so!" and suit- had got the strangest, newfangledest notions ing the action to the word, she took anoth-in the world, he could remember when er glass, and imitating her own former action times were different; for his part, he had and manner, threw it on the floor, and dash- no pride, though he was a commissioner of ed it into as many pieces as its predecessor. Having performed this redoubtable action, Phoebe walked out of the room like Joan

of Arc.

Mr. Phillicody looked first at the broken fragments, and then at his wife, and then at Lord Killikelly, and then at himself. "If I were not the most patient man alive,” he exclaimed, "I should be in the most terrible passion;" and he stamped his feet till the very foundation of the room shook, and the glasses, and plates, and paraphernalia on the table began to dance gallopades. "Such a family as I have! thinking of nothing but dress, and show, and finery. There's that Phoebe, that does not know how to do a single hand's turn-nothing in the world but jabber bad French, and twiddle and strum from morning till night without any tune. And for sauce-why, for sauce-if I were not the most patient man alive-if I were not the most patient man alive-why, I should be in the most confounded passion!" During this gentle colloquy the soap-boiler had been gradually working himself up into the most raving violence.

"But everybody imposes on good-natured people; everybody imposes upon me; they see that I am too easy for anything, and so they take advantage of me. It is a ridiculous thing to be so easy, to let any one turn and twist you round their little finger. What a fool I am to be such a milksop but I always was the most patient man alive-the most patient man alive, I say!"

Mr. Phillicody stamped on the broken glass in a perfect frenzy of passion, and then turning suddenly round on Lord Killikelly, asked him, with unutterable fierceness, whether he did not think him the most patient man alive.

Whether Lord Killikelly was only in bodily fear, or was mentally convinced that Mr. Phillicody ought to know the best on a subject which so nearly concerned himself, we do not pretend to tell. He answered,

the paving and lighting, and free of the worshipful Company of Tallow Chandlers ; and, talking of companies, his wife should give him, for a treat, a taste of the sweetmeats that he had brought home from the yesterday's dinner, as his appetite seemed to be poorish.

Whereupon Mrs. Phillicody brought out two bags of Birch's best sweetmeats, fit for a city feast, distorted into all shapes and sizes, such as the worshipful company thinks fit to give home with its freemen, for fear that they may happen not to have had dinner enough; and then the soap-boiler went on to tell him all that had happened, and been said, at the last vestry meeting, from which he passed on to the state of the country and politics in general, and then to the members of the administration in particular, and Lord Killikelly had the pleasure of hearing himself called every particular rogue and fool that the vocabulary of the soap-boiler could furnish.

At this juncture, however, the soap-boiler's lady interfered, declaring that she could not sit by and hear a relation of her own spoken of so disrespectfully; and Lord Killikelly had the extreme satisfaction of hearing himself abused and defended, with such a happy balance of power, as to leave him in doubt which was the most gratifying to his feelings.

The soap-boiler waxed exceedingly wroth with his wife that she should presume to know better than her liege lord and master on any subject, saving and excepting the making of a pudding; and he very soon began to attest his patience by loud vociferations and stampings on the floor; but happily there came a tap at the door, and a dirty-looking man, with a paper cap and a somewhat soiled apron, put his head in, and said that_master was wanted.

So the soap-boiler decamped, and then Lord Killikelly began to be very sweet to Mrs. Phillicody, preparatory to putting his

question. But it would not do things would not fit; he was afraid, in the softest voice in the world, that Mrs. Phillicody was not well; and that she took to be a reflection on her dishabille, but to be sure she was not quite well; she had had a brewing in the house, only a small one, about five hundred gallons. She, of course, had had nothing to do with it personally, but the smell had affected her. She was rather indisposed, but then she was always delicate.

This from fat Mrs. Phillicody-but Lord Killikelly, of course, condoled, and then in the most serpentine, circumambious way in the world, hinted a wish to know the address of her young relations, to whom she had been so kind.

That was a mistake of Lord Killikelly. Mrs. Phillicody knew, in the bottom of her heart, that she had no particular kindness to boast of, and she immediately resolved not to give her visiter any information that might lead to the confirmation of that fact. Phoebe, being dressed by this time, and finding the coast clear of her father, ventured into the room. She was now the beauty of the family again, her long curls liberated from the confinement of their papers, and looking as arch and good-tempered as youth must look when she assumes her preroga

tive.

Mrs. Phillicody betook herself to the common expedient of cowards when they do not like to say no-she slipped out of the room, telling Phoebe to show Mr. Kelly her drawings, and the ottomans which she had worked at school, and all the rug-work, and to play him a tune on the piano.

Lord Killikelly allowed himself to be bored by the drawings and stunned by the music, and exerted himself to admire the ottomans and the rug-work; and at last ventured to say that he understood her late relation, Mr. Warwick, had left some family, whom he wished to see, as he particularly desired to consult some of the MS. papers which that gentleman had left, being engaged in some similar pursuits, and he should feel much obliged if she would furnish him with the address of her young relations.

Phoebe's pride immediately took the alarm; she remembered the back three-pair, and the dirty stairs, and all the meagre poverty. Phoebe would have died rather than have exposed the contemptibleness of her own relations; so she told Lord Killikelly that she really had quite forgotten, but it was somewhere about Westminster.

The information so far satisfied Lord Killikelly, as to make him feel certain that he should arrive at no better through the Phillicodys; so he departed, having very fully and sufficiently caught the epidemic of ill-humour which prevailed in the house when he had first entered.

(To be continued.)

A JOURNEY TO THE RUINS OF ASHKELON.

BY C. G. ADDISON, ESQ., OF THE INNER TEMPLE. The plain of Sharon-Ruined village-Ramleh→→→ Spanish monks-Jaffa-Fruit market-Arab consul-Arab women-Oriental scenery-Country of the Philistines-Jabneh-Evening prayers Dogs Effreets and devils-El Roubin-Ashdod -Hamami—El Majdal-The ruins of Ashkelon. "Ashkelon shall be a desolation."-ZEPHANIAH. "Once it was the busiest haunt, Whither, as to a common centre, flocked Strangers, and ships, and merchandise: Once peace and freedom blest The cultivated plain."

NOVEMBER 28.-We left Jerusalem at noon, for Ramleh, the ancient Rama of Ephraim, and the Arimathea of the New Testament, seven hours distant. On our way through the solitary and deserted streets of the holy city we encountered my old friend and fellow pilgrim the Greek Pappas; he was toiling along the rugged pathway, accompanied by two other way-worn pilgrims, to offer up his prayers at the church of the holy se morning with other wanderers from far-dispulchre. The old man attends there every tant lands, and is generally to be seen forming one of a venerable group in loose robes and with snow-white beards, bending and kissing the dust before some one of the numerous altars which adorn the sacred building.

"Yet midst her towering fanes in ruin laid,
The pilgrim saint his murmuring vespers paid:
'Twas his to climb the tufted rocks, and rove
The chequer'd twilight of the olive grove;
'Twas his to bend beneath the sacred gloom,
And wear with many a kiss Messiah's tomb."

We rode out of the Bab el Scham, and bidding adieu to the holy city, we struck across the rocky country in a westerly direction. The sky was perfectly clear, and the temperature most delightful.

About two hours after leaving Jerusalem we descended into a winding ravine, and halted at a well, where a party of travellers mounted on mules were resting to refresh themselves. A shepherd was driving a few goats along a mountainpass, and we were pleased with the unusual congregation of human beings. The surrounding landscape now became clothed in a more pleasing garb; the bare, arid, treeless country gave way to rocks and dells, covered with dwarf-shrubs; and the green grass, plants, and flowers, with numerous crocuses in full blossom, presented a delightful appearance. We descended a steep precipitous path among the mountains, and followed a winding stony bridle-track by the edge of a mountain torrent; sometimes we ascended the bare rocks, by holes worn into them with the iron-shod hoofs of horses that had trodden the same track for cen

turies. Here and there the precipitous tary eminence produced a most striking and craggy eminences receded, and left a little romantic effect.

sequestered spot, carpeted with greensward, At seven o'clock we entered a road borwatered by the small murmuring mountain-dered on either side by tall hedges of the rivulet, and sometimes overshadowed with a few walnut-trees.

Four hours and a half after leaving Jerusalem, and just as the sun was setting, we descended the last of the mountains, and leaving "the hill country of Judea," we advanced into the large flat plain, "the plain of Sharon," which extends on every side towards the sea-coast, possessing a fine and fertile soil, in a sad state of neglect. It is everywhere deserted and uncultivated, and overrun with thistles and weeds. We followed a small winding path through the burnt-up rank vegetation, amid whose dead and rotting stalks might be seen the vigorous green plants of the coming year struggling into life. As we journeyed across the wild and dusky heath, we were wrapped in admiration at the beauty of the heavens; the sun had set but a few minutes, and the sky above the western horizon was flushed with golden, purple, and crimson colours beautifully blended together. An extraordinary stillness reigned around, but this was occasionally disturbed by the monotonous chirping of the cricket, or the whistling of the transient breeze as it swept along over the dry grass. Sometimes, however, the shrill melancholy cry of the jackal broke upon the ear, and was prolonged from hill to hill until it at length died away in the distant solitude.

Indian fig, and rode between gardens, above the foliage of which rose some tall slender palm-trees. In a few minutes we entered Ramleh, and passed between numerous scattered houses, through several dark streets, and then halted before a low door in a lofty, gloomy wall, which was pronounced to be the entrance to the Latin convent. Some thundering knocks brought a porter, who, after a long parley through a little grated hole which he opened in the door, admitted us. We passed down a long gloomy cloister, and I was ushered into the apartment of the superior, where some Spanish monks, the dirtiest and most ill-favoured of that class I had ever seen, shortly made their appearance. They paid me a profusion of compliments, and asked all sorts of questions about my journey; but feeling very hungry, I cut short their numerous inquiries by requesting them to allow my servant to make use of their kitchen to cook me some meat he had brought with him from Jerusalem. This they would by no means permit, but informed me, in a pompous manner, and with great solemnity, that their own servants would prepare for me everything that the convent afforded; and they spoke in so confident and lofty a tone of the resources of their establishment, that I was comforted with the expectation of a very magnificent repast.

apron, with a key in one hand and a raw radish in the other, made his appearance; and half a dozen monks rising in great majesty, and requesting me to follow them, proceeded, with the man in the white apron at their head, to the refectory, where they placed themselves round a long oak table in great state, and, without intending to eat themselves, they presided with vast ceremony over the dinner which the red-faced man in the white apron quickly produced from the adjoining kitchen. This consisted of some cold stewed fish, seasoned with garlick, musty cheese, roasted chestnuts, dirty, gritty, unleavened bread, and detestable sour wine! Hungry, and in ill-humour, I retired to rest in a gloomy, close room, furnished with a dirty, miserable couch, swarming with fleas. Had I encamped under a tree, or gone to an Arab hut, I should have been my own master, and have fared respectably.

The daylight very shortly entirely disap- I waited for more than an hour, faint and peared, and we continued across the solitary weary, when, in answer to my earnest appliplain, guided by the light of the moon. In cation for something to eat, a little bell was about an hour we came in sight of what ap-rung, and a red-faced man, in a dirty white peared to be a village on an eminence. A little to the left of the road, houses could be seen in the moonlight, and a line of wall, apparently erected for defence. Silence and solitude, however, brooded over the spot, and not even the barking of a dog could be heard. I spurred on my horse over the grass along the side of the undulating hill, when I was startled by the long, yelping, lengthened howl of a jackal, not unlike the querulous cry of a child, which suddenly burst forth from the spot. I shouted to the guide, who rode up and informed me that the village was entirely deserted and gone to ruin; he said that the inhabitants had been impoverished by the heavy contributions laid upon them, and the population thinned by some large draughts made among the people for the army. A few years ago every strong able-bodied male in the place was carried off into Egypt; others deserted from the spot to the mountains through fear; the few remaining inhabitants quickly dwindled away, and now, my guide informs me, not one living soul is to be found on the spot! I rode through a gap in the wall, and proceeded onward amid dilapidated and roofless tenements, now tenanted by night owls and beasts of prey. Irregular masses of ruined masonry reflected the pale moonbeams, and the lights and shadows thrown by the desolate structures across the soli

Nov. 29.-I was called at an early hour in the morning by a tall grim-visaged monk, who showed me a dreadful scar in his throat, left by a bubo that broke out under his chin when he had the plague two years ago, and thus saved his life. The plague, he tells me, was then very bad in Ramleh; it got into the convent, and carried off very nearly half the brotherhood in the short space of one month!

Before I had dressed myself, I found that

of scorpions and lizards, plainly manifest that the town has greatly declined from its previous populous state. Large cemeteries, too, neglected and overgrown with thistles, meet the eye in various directions.

there was a dreadful disturbance among the establishment, in consequence of the orders I had just given my servant concerning breakfast. The red-faced man, having resisted the entrance of Evangela into the kitchen, had been pushed or handled by him On returning to the Latin convent, I found in such a way that his dignity had been that the ill-humour subsisting between the grievously wounded; a furious quarrel had monks and my servant had not subsided. taken place, and all the monks were assem- The worthy fathers dilated with great bitbled in the cloister, preparing to avenge the terness upon the errors and heresies of the insult to their cook. I was drawn to the spot Greek church, and spoke warmly and feelby loud shouts and screams of "Grecisco cis-ingly upon the danger of having anything to matico," "schismatic Greek," which were do with "schismatic Greeks." echoed and re-echoed from the courts and cloisters until the walls rang with the tumult. There was the red-visaged cook, armed with some culinary utensil, in a warlike attitude, and Padre Pedro, with an enormous key, which he was flourishing about like a dagger. They all rushed at me, explaining the nature of the offence. A great altercation ensued, and the scene ended by Evangela's getting quiet possession of the kitchen through the fear of the monks that the customary gratuity to the convent at the departure of a guest would be diminished if they held out.

Within the precincts of this building, the holy fathers pretended to show part of the house of that Joseph who, having begged the body of Jesus from Pilate, "took it down from the cross, wrapped it in linen cloth, and laid it in his own new sepulchre." It is to be seen within a small chapel, which, they say, has been erected over the site of the dwelling!

This convent, it appears, was founded by Philip the Good, Duke of Burgundy, on the supposed site of the house of Nicodemus, for the reception of the christian pilgrims on their way to the holy city. It is called Sion House, and belongs to the Latin monastery at Jerusalem.

Before breakfast I took a short stroll through Ramleh. There is a Greek and Armenian convent in the place, in addition to the Latin convent, and some ancient Greek christian churches, now converted into mosques. The chief mosque was an ancient church; it possesses a lofty tower in a good state of preservation, and near it is a shapeless building, supported by pillars, said to be the remains of an ancient monastery. On a lofty eminence to the northeast of Ramleh is an old tower, part of a convent once dedicated to the forty martyrs who suffered death for their faith at Sebaste. It was ascended by a flight of one hundred and twenty-five stone steps, and commanded a fine prospect over the flat plain of Sharon.

On quitting the convent I tendered the customary gratuity, notwithstanding the wretched entertainment that had been afforded me, when, to my utter astonishment, the monk, looking at the money which he held in the palm of his hand, remarked, "We want another dollar."

"Vayá usted con Dios," quoth I, "God be with you;" and taking up my hat, I walked out, and mounted my horse.

It was about eight o'clock in the morning, and leaving the silent and solitary streets, we took the road to Jaffa. We passed a solitary minaret, part of a ruined mosque, on the lower part of which was an Arabic inscription, importing that it had been erected by Saif el Din, Sultan of Egypt. Immediately after leaving the village we left all traces of cultivation, and continued onward through the same rich desert plain covered with dead thistles and tangled weeds. It was a lovely morning, and some larks, hovering high in air, were singing merrily as we traversed the solitary country. We met a few poor Arabs who were driving some dromedaries home from pasture, and a herd of goats was trotting along the winding pathway, jingling a number of little bells suspended from their necks.

In a short time we reached a well by the road side, and halted by the ruins of a mosque. It was the spot spoken of by the monks, as the place where Joseph and the Virgin rested and refreshed themselves during their flight into Egypt. It is consequently a place visited by all pious christian pilgrims, and held in the greatest reverence by the whole fraternity.

After we had travelled for about two hours and a half across the solitary plain, we were delighted with the prospect of some houses, scattered along the summit of a distant eminence, to which our muleteer pointed, and shouted Yaffa, Yaffa! We saw nothing of the sea, but rode on to some green trees which shortly appeared in our front.

As we approached the suburbs of the place, the line of green foliage and the wavy Some rich gardens extend around the vil-palm trees surrounding the town, presented lage. The tall palm gives them a striking oriental character, and the golden orange and the lemon are to be seen overshadowing luxuriant beds of vegetables. The place itself, however, has a very forlorn and sombre aspect. Ruined courtyards, overgrown with rank thistles and weeds, and the mere crumbling shells of large dwellings, which were * All Judæa and Idumea were anciently celebratonce inhabited, but are now the resort only led for their palm trees :—

a grateful and most refreshing appearance. We entered a broad sandy road, bordered on either side by enormous hedges of the prickly cactus, which enclose beautiful gardens, filled with orange and lemon trees; these were loaded with golden fruit, and above these some tall palms* spread their feathery tops,

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