Harmer-or Handyside-laughed. "People's ears," he said, “are not quite so quick as your fancy supposes. However, there's no harm in keeping on the safe side. Now then, if you've finished your coffee, we'll take a turn and look after the matters I mentioned."

In the Montagne de la Cour they found a money-changer who, having satisfied himself that the bank-notes offered him were genuine, asked no questions of those who presented them. A few sets of type and some printing ink were also obtained, and, without troubling themselves about the curiosities of the town, the fugitives returned to the Singe d'Or, where they found that their passports had been returned with the official signatures attached. Shut up in their double-bedded room at the back of the hotel, William Handyside worked diligently for three hours, the interval being occupied by Archibald Graysteel in filling up, with a long array of figures, several pages of a clasped memorandum-book which was labelled "Common Prayer." At the expiration of the time named the clever forger had completed his task. The Belgian lion, with its surrounding motto, was fairly cut-the visa of the "Administration de la Sureté Publique" was carefully set up in type-the half-effaced impressions which figure at the back of most passports were duly stamped, and when the signature of the Chef du Bureau was imitated, the fabrication was so neat that there was little danger of detection. Of course fresh names appeared within, and instead of requesting all those whom it might concern to allow Mr. Harmer and the Rev. Mr. Golding to pass freely without let or hindrance, and to afford them every assistance and protection of which they might stand in need, Lord Clarendon was made to solicit the same kind offices in favour of two other respectable British subjects, named Googe and Hooker-the real initials being retained for reasons sufficiently obvious.

Without being so apprehensive as his companion, Handyside thought it not advisable for them to appear too much in public together. They therefore avoided the table d'hôte, and dined in a quiet corner at the famous restaurant of Dubos, in the street where they had put up, expense being no consideration, and gourmandise having something to do with the junior partner's choice. There was a striking contrast between the two men. With a more various, if not a deeper domestic stake at issue, and certainly very fond of his wife and children, William Handyside was as gay and free from care as if he were travelling solely for pleasure; while Archibald Graysteel, who had never manifested any remarkable affection for his daughter, and whose feelings never overflowed save at conventicle, kept continually lamenting the loss of his "pleasant, peaceful home," which had been anything but pleasant or peaceful when he ornamented it. Not to dwell too minutely on the pursuits of each, I may, however, mention that the first evening in Brussels was devoted by Handyside to the theatre, and that Graysteel, under the pilotage of a valet de place, made the round of all the churches; that the former reentered his hotel greatly edified by the exertions of the corps de ballet, and the latter much shocked at "the vain and idle ceremonies of a benighted and ignorant priesthood."

The next evening, however, gave them something else to think of. To fill up the time until there was a possibility of learning the news from England, the usual excursion was made to Waterloo. The summer's

day was drawing to a close when they returned, and, having dismissed the carriage, Handyside, as it was dusk, proposed a walk in the park, where, after sauntering about for half an hour, they sat down in front of Velloni's to eat an ice. While thus agreeably occupied, Graysteel, whose suspicious watchfulness never slept, caught the sound of his own language. There would have been nothing extraordinary in this, but for what was spoken. "You see," said a voice, "I was all right; they went to the Singe d'Or, as I told you." "Ah!" returned another speaker, whose words were dropped with a pause between them, as if he were smoking"ah,-but-what-has-become-of-them-since the morning?" "How can I tell that?" replied the first; "but depend on it they 'aven't 'ooked it yet." "What-makes-you-think-that?" "Their baggage is still in the 'otel!" "A-dodge-perhaps. How-did-thewaiter-describe them?" "The oldest, tall, thin, grey; the other, short, stout, red: the same I saw at Antwerp." "That-answers-the -description. You-would-recognise-them-again ?" "Anywhere." "Very good.

Now-just-show-me-the-way-to-the-police

office and then-keep-a-look-out-in the-Fossy-oh-what-d'ye call-'em ?" "The Fossé aux Loups; what you call Wolf-Ditch-street.” "A-queer-name,-and-a-fit-place-for-them-two."

Here the conversation ceased. At the moment it began, Graysteel, whose presence of mind had returned with actual danger-laid his hand upon his partner's arm, and having arrested his attention from him, a look full of meaning, to ensure silence, they both overheard every word that was said, for the speakers were only three or four yards behind them, standing obliquely to their position, with a large tree between. As the last words were uttered, Graysteel, with the slightest motion of his head, glanced round and saw two men moving off in the direction of the Place Royale. One of them, tall and strongly made, was a perfect stranger to him; his companion, a little wiry fellow, he identified immediately as the commissionnaire of the Hôtel St. Antoine.

"What's to be done now?" he whispered.

"Of course we can't go back,” replied Handyside, "there again; the Wolf's-Ditch would be the wolf's mouth. What's more, we can't stay long here either. We must 'ook it, as that vulgar little rascal said." "What did he mean?" asked Graysteel, who was not so great an adept in slang as his partner.

Make another flitting. How shall we manage? It's a good job we've kept the money about us. I never like to trust to portmanteaus. Let me see! If they don't find us, they'll fancy of course we're off by the rail. No difficulty in learning that we went to Waterloo and came back. A lucky thought-I must get hold of that man before the police see him. I should like to have got a sight of the Times, to see if we are advertised; it's in the reading-room over yonder before now. ever, that can't be helped. We must be off without it. What we know is quite enough. Come with me. It's lucky I know Brussels pretty well."

How

He led the way as he spoke, cautiously amongst the trees, till he came out of the park into the Place Royale, where a number of carriages always stand for hire. The first person he saw was the man who had driven them to Waterloo. Like most Belgians he was fond of faro, and having

received a handsome "pourboire" from Handyside, had drunk two or three chopines with a friend at an estaminet on the Place before he stabled his steeds for the night.

Handyside went straight up to him and put a five-franc piece into his hand.

"You recollect me?" he said.

The fellow looked at the money and then at the speaker.

"Ah!" he exclaimed, "c'est vous, monsieur! Qu'est-ce qu'il y a pour votre service ?"

Handyside explained that he wished to hire him again. He wanted to know if he could take himself and his friend as far as Louvain that night, they wanted to see the Hôtel de Ville by moonlight. The driver scratched his head and began to make objections. He had had a long day's work, and his horses were knocked up. When pressed, however, and the promise given of a "Leopold" for himself when they got to Louvain, he expressed his readiness to accommodate Monsieur as far as lay in his power. He could get another pair of horses, strong ones, that would perform the journey in three hours, only perhaps Monsieur would not mind waiting till he had had his supper; he should then be quite ready to set out. This was against the wish of Handyside, but there was no remedy, and he feared to be too urgent lest he should awaken suspicion as to the motive of his departure-strangely enough timid already. Under the pretext of taking a walk, as the night was fine and the moon at the full, Handyside appointed to meet him outside the Boulevard, a short distance beyond the Porte de Louvain, on the high road to that place. The driver, who did not often get such a chance as an extra twenty francs, besides the five he had already pocketed, promised faithfully to be on the spot exactly as the clock struck ten. He mentioned that he would take them up at a café on the left-hand side, called the Cadran Bleu, "where they sold capital faro."

"Can we trust this fellow?" said Graysteel, when they left the square and made for the Porte de Louvain.

"Provided he keeps sober," returned Handyside.

"And if he fails us?"

"We must then make the best use of our legs. Louvain is only eighteen miles off. We can get there at any rate by daylight."

"And then ?".

Right through by the first train to Aix-la-Chapelle." They walked on quickly without another word.

All night long Mr. John Woodman, the London Detective (who, "from information received"-they always do receive information somehow-had tracked the fugitives to Antwerp, and there fallen in with the commissionnaire)-all night long Mr. John Woodman and one of the Brussels police, attended by the vindictive little fellow, watched in the Fossé aux Loups for the two fraudulent bankrupts. But the guet-à-pens was in vain; the fugitives did not return to the Singe d'Or, and after a careful search through Brussels next day, Mr. John Woodman came to the conclusion that "the parties he wanted were somewhere else." Where he went to look for them will most likely appear in the next chapter.

VOL. XXXIX.

E

DAMASCUS AND ITS NEIGHBOURHOOD.*

DAMASCUS is unquestionably one of the oldest cities in the world, and in many respects one of the most remarkable. It has been a city from the time when Abraham left his home "between the rivers" to journey westward to the "Land of Promise." It has outlived generations of cities, and has been a witness of the stirring events of full four thousand years. It is one of the few remaining connecting links between the patriarchal age and modern days; and its beauty and richness have ever been proverbial. The Arab writers call it one of the four paradises on earth. It has in succession formed an important part of the most powerful empires of the world. The monarchs of Nineveh, Babylon, Persia, Greece, and Rome have conquered it, and it has prospered under every dynasty, and outlived them all. It was for a time the capital of the vast dominions of the Khalifs; and as the stronghold of Islamism it was (excepting the holy cities Mecca and Medina) the last place that tolerated a European hat in its streets; yet now, Mr. Porter tells us, the Osmanlis, its present rulers, are fast declining, and ere long it may be forced to acknowledge other masters. This is more than is admitted by some politicians of the Osmanlis, even in Europe; but no amount of political sagacity will suffice to uphold long a corrupt system or a deathstricken race except as an allied or vassal power. The decline of the Osmanlis may be repudiated by partisans, but the unanimous testimony of those who have lived long among them, or studied them intimately, as Mr. Porter has done, all go to establish the fact.

Few cities possess such advantages in respect to situation as Damascus. It stands on a plain, at the eastern base of Antilibanus, having an elevation of about 2200 feet above the sea. The area of this plain is about 236 square geographical miles. The fine stream of the Barada breaks through the lowest chain of the anti-Lebanon by a wild ravine, and, entering the plain, at once waters the city and its gardens. Aqueducts intersect every quarter, and fountains sparkle in every dwelling, while innumerable canals extend their ramifications over the wide expanse, clothing it with verdure and beauty:

The view that presents itself to the eye of the traveller as he surmounts the last ridge of Antilibanus, after passing the bleak and barren slopes beyond, is rich and grand almost surpassing conception. From the side of the little wely above referred to the best prospect is obtained. The elevation is about 500 feet above the city, which is a mile and a half distant. The peculiar forms of Eastern architecture produce a pleasing effect at this distance. Graceful minarets and swelling domes, surmounted by gilded crescents, rise up in every direction from the confused mass of terraced roofs, while in some places their glittering tops just appear above the deep green foliage, like diamonds in the midst of emeralds. In the centre of all stands the noble pile of the great mosk, and near it may be seen the massive towers and battlemented walls of the old castle. Away on the south the eye follows the long narrow suburb of the Medan, at the extremity of which is the "Gate of God," where the great pilgrim caravan, on each returning

*Five Years in Damascus: including an Account of the History, Topography, and Antiquities of that City. By Rev. J. L. Porter, A.M., F.R.S.L. Two Vols. London: John Murray. 1855.

year, takes leave of the city. The buildings of Damascus are almost all of snowy whiteness, and this contrasts well with the surrounding foliage. The gardens and orchards, which have been so long and so justly celebrated, encompass the city, and extend on both sides of the Barada some miles eastward. They cover an area at least twenty-five miles in circuit, and make the environs an earthly paradise. The varied tints of the foliage, and of the blossoms and fruit in their season, greatly enhance the beauty of the picture. The sombre hue of the olive and the deep green of the walnut are finely relieved by the lighter shade of the apricot, the silvery sheen of the poplar, and the purple tint of the pomegranate; while lofty cone-like cypresses appear at intervals, and a few palm-trees here and there raise up their graceful heads. The variously coloured foliage thus surrounding the bright city, and the smooth plain beyond, now bounded by naked hills, and now mingling with the sky on the far-distant horizon, and the wavy atmosphere that makes forest, plain, and mountain tremble, give a softness and an aërial beauty to the whole scene that captivates the mind of the beholder.

It has been supposed that in this age of locomotion, libraries of researches, narratives, and journals have exhausted the romance of travel, and made persons familiar with most objects of interest, especially in the East, and with all their associations, classic or sacred, ere the eye rests upon them. But this is not the case. There is a magic power in the living reality which neither poet's pen nor painter's pencil can ever appropriate, still less exhaust. The descriptions of others, however graphic, and even the sketch of the artist, however faithful, only place before the mind's eye an ideal scene, which we can contemplate, it is true, with unmingled pleasure, and even with satisfaction; but when the eye wanders over plain and mountain, or the foot touches "holy ground," the superiority of the real over the ideal is at once felt and acknowledged.

Not that Damascus, a city thoroughly Oriental in character, has not also all the usual drawbacks of Eastern habits. Its streets are narrow and tortuous, the city irregular, dirty, and half ruinous, the houses like piles of mud, stone, and timber, heaped together without order, but in the same city, also, all that remains of the romance of the East is likewise to be met with. Its bazaars are splendid, and they are frequented by a great variety of races-Arab, Turk, Druse, Persian, and Kurd-in most picturesque costumes. Most of the mosques are fine specimens of Saracenic architecture, as are also the khans. In both it is in the gateways that the Saracenic architecture is seen to the greatest advantage.

But the chief glory of Damascus is in the splendour of its private houses. No contrast could be greater than that between the exterior and the interior. The irregular mud walls and rickety-looking projecting upper chambers give but poor promise of splendour within. The entrance is by a mean doorway into a narrow and winding passage, or sometimes a plain stable-yard. Passing this the outer court is gained. Here is a variegated pavement of black and white stones, intermixed with pieces of marble tastefully designed. A fountain sparkles in the midst, shaded by evergreens and flowering shrubs; and at one side is an open alcove, called a liwan, with a light and beautifully ornamented arch supporting the exterior wall. The floor is of marble of different colours, and a raised dais, covered with soft cushions of silk, surrounds the three sides. The chambers and halls in this court are all occupied by the