almost the same number at a ruin about | cave. Into this I descended with a light, two miles from Dahlieh, called Khurbet and found myself in a circular underSemakha, where are also to be found the ground chamber one hundred feet in cirremains of one of the eleven Jewish syna- cumference, the roof supported by a rude gogues of old date which have been as yet column of the living rock. Loose stones discovered in the Holy Land. I unearthed now cover the floor to a depth of two feet; my roller, which now decorates what I but when they are cleared away, it will hope some day to call a lawn. It meas- give a height to the roof of about eight ures eight feet long, two feet six inches in feet, which can easily be increased if nec diameter at the centre, but tapers to two essary. It had a second small opening feet at one end, and has four parallel rows under a rock at the opposite side, and of grooves. Each groove is about a foot near it what appeared to be a blocked-up long and two inches deep; they are a foot passage. This I had cleared out, and apart. found that it led to a second smaller cav. It has been conjectured that these roll- ern very much choked with stones. A ers form some part of an olive-pressing dozen yards lower down I found the enmachinery; but I have failed in imagina- trance under a rock to a third cave, which, tion to construct a machine in which they I suspect, communicates with the other could be employed - though it is evident, two. They do not appear to have been from the remains of the olive-mills at Du- used as tombs, though the rocks have bil, that it was a great centre of an olive been hewn in places, especially at the oil industry. There are some prostrate entrances. In their immediate neighborstones there ten feet long, which were hood the field is strewn with tessera and evidently uprights, and which are perfo- fragments of pottery and glass, and the rated with holes and carved with slots and natives tell me that if I dig, I shall find grooves, showing that they formed part remains. This has produced a disagree. of a massive mechanism connected with able conflict of sentiment in my mind. the huge circular millstones in their imme- Regarded from a purely practical point diate vicinity; and in some instances the of view, I think it will pay better to rollers above described are near these. plant this field out in vines than to excaBut the most fortunate discovery and vate in it. On the other hand, I feel I this was not made till the house was built have already done a heathenish thing in was an ancient cistern, which luckily building a house on the top of the foundadid not happen to be in the middle of the tions of one of the Byzantine period, withsitting-room, but just outside the back out examining them thoroughly. From wall, exactly where I should probably have the relics I found, my predecessor must had to build one. The use of the groove have been a man of wealth and position, in the stone floor of the back passage was or he never would have used such elabonow evident. It was to conduct the water rate wineglasses; and it may be that I am into this cistern, which had an opening, living now on the top of something ineighteen inches square, into the solid rock, teresting. But had 1, as I was sorely and swelled out below into the shape of a tempted to do when I found the carved bottle fifteen feet deep and eight feet in cornice, gone on digging, I should have diameter. As the rock from which it is turned the site of my future house into a hewn is very hard, the ancients have saved pit, broken my contract with the builder, me from 20 to 30 in providing me with and had no place to come to this summer this reservoir, which I am enlarging, and—all which would have involved great shall have to cement, as the old cement, though still adhering to the sides in many places, has of course become useless. It was full of earth and débris to the brim; and in clearing it out I got much fine mould, besides a great quantity of broken pottery, and some stems and fragments of glass vases, the rims of which were turned Over and lined with silver-unfortunately none of them perfect. In front of the house, about twenty yards from the verandah, I observed a figtree growing out of a suspicious-looking hole, and on clearing away some brambles, perceived that it led down into a loss and inconvenience, on the chance of contributing my mite to the existing collections of Palestine antiquities. I console myself, therefore, by the reflection that these remains are relatively modern, and that the chance of there being a trilingual stone with an inscription which may throw light on the earlier religions of mankind buried under my bedroom is exceedingly remote. Rather than spend my substance in seeking for it, I will convert what the ancients have left me to practical purposes. There is a hole two feet deep and two feet square hewn out of the solid rock near where I propose to build a stable, which I will turn into a horsetrough. These caves shall become cellars; the modern wines of Carmel shall be stored away in its old tombs, the bottles packed neatly into loculi or stacked away in kokim, and the various vintages allowed to mature in the sepulchres of a bygone race. I will put hogsheads into the caverns once occupied by hermits; the grottos of ascetics shall become storehouses for the ruddy juice that maketh glad the heart of man; and the irony of fate shall, through my instrumentality, work its revenge upon the haunts of these misguided anchorites. As for the evidences of luxury that I come across, they only aggravate me. When I think of my Byzantine predecessor seated beneath marble porticos, drinking out of the most exquisitely shaped flagons of delicate blue glass, golden and silver tipped, his eye ranging over the same view that mine does the same, and yet so different, with its hanging forests and terraced vineyards, its columned temples, its teeming population and compare the mud-built village, ruined terraces, naked hills, and unpeopled valleys, with all this vanished luxury and beauty, I don't want to find anything that reminds me of the contrast. The future, not the past, seems to claim our energies and resources. When every man, free from the tyranny of the unjust judge or the extortionate tax-gatherer, can sit in peace and happiness under his own vine and his own fig-tree, it will be time enough to begin to excavate under them. Meanwhile, be mine the task, however feebly, to labor for the restoration of this land to its former condition of fruitfulness and abundance. From Blackwood's Magazine. DOROTHY: AN INTERLUDE. "Man Of his own happiness is artisan." ON one side a white glaring road, upon which the sun, early as it yet was, shone burning down; on the other, a narrow path by a sweet-scented bean-field, the morning dew still sparkling on the delicate blossoms, and between the two a tall dividing hedgerow, crowned with honeysuckle and wild roses. A man sauntering slowly along the dusty road paused involuntarily as the sound of a voice disturbed his reverie. So close was it, that he looked up as if almost expecting to see the speaker, but "Mademoiselle will have twenty minutes to wait at the station, if not half an hour." An impatient exclamation from the first speaker; then silence for two or three minutes, whilst the three-the two women and the lonely man - pursued their way. Silence, broken then by something like a cry of despair. "Elise, Elise! I have not brought my purse! Have you? No, don't shake your head, feel in your pocket." "Mademoiselle, there is not the slightest use; I have no money with me. But there is plenty of time; have I not just told mademoiselle so? We will go back to the convent." "Oh, is there indeed? Well, I will go, but not you. I can run much more quickly. You walk slowly on towards the station, and I will return." Almost involuntarily 'the man, at the first sound of the discussion, had put his hand in his pocket and drawn forth his purse — vague ideas floating through his mind; but as the young voice told its plan, and repeated, “You are sure, Elise, sure that there is plenty of time," he took out his watch, and from it glanced to the small station, that a sudden dip in the road disclosed to view beneath themthen backwards towards the white building, that he knew to be the convent of the Sacré Cœur. "If her feet are as young as her voice," he thought, "she will do it easily." And so thinking, sighed, perhaps almost unconsciously envying her her youth, and feeling hardly used, that his own should have slipped by; missing, in the swift retrospective glance, the brilliant gleams of color that had lightened his path at times, and which made the surrounding blackness so much blacker; failing en tirely to acknowledge the justice of the law of compensation, the justice of that law which gives us everything for which we are willing to pay. A few steps more brought him to the stile, which served as the narrow means of communication between the road and what lay hidden from sight by the high rose-crowned hedge, and, arrived at it, he paused and looked over; but the sweet bean-flowers softly stirring in the early breeze, the glittering dewdrops still upon their leaves, were all that rewarded his hasty glance. Even Elise was hidden from sight; or she had perhaps turned back with her young mistress. straight on to where the two officials stood by the already closing door. "Let me in," she cried. Then the door was thrown open, a hand, slender and brown, was held out and clasped hers, and a second later she was in the carriage, and an angry voice was pouring forth a fierce list of broken rules and consequent penalties, through the open windows, the while the owner of the said voice was turning the key in the lock. But what cared she? For the moment nothing mattered, now that she was in the train, safe so far, on her journey. She leant out of the window, nodding and smiling towards the platform, where Elise, dusty and hot, stood watching the receding train. He felt a sensation of disappointment, as he took his arms off the narrow wooden bar, and resumed his walk. Apparently Elise had a little exaggerated the time to spare, in her eagerness to demonstrate she was right, or perhaps the watch to which she had trusted did not coincide with the clock which created time for the village of Trécour; anyhow, when the man's slow steps had led him down the All the disagreeables were forgotten little steep hill, across the broad, unfre- the hot walk, the steep hill down which quented road, and he found himself stand-she had run so fleetly, whilst Elise stuming on the small, deserted platform, the bled on behind, grumbling loudly the massive hand on the clock above his head while. pointed already to a quarter past seven, and in five minutes the train would be due. He walked up and down several times, always lengthening his walk, till no intervening building lay between him and the hill that led to the bean-field; but the minutes slipped away one by one, and with the last a white puff of smoke came round the sharp angle which seemed to cut off the railway line a few yards ahead, and the train moved slowly into the station. The one porter rang the bell, and called out to the passengers to take their seats for; then followed a long list of unintelligible names, given in the voluble French tongue, and the one passenger catching the word Sérizay, nodded lazily to the porter to unlock the door of the carriage by which he found himself, his head turned all the time towards the spot where, close at hand, on the sunny shadowless hill, were visible two dark figures one running with fleet young footsteps, with which the other strove in vain to keep up. "Wait one minute," the solitary traveller said to the station-master, standing by his side." Yonder comes a lady who is most anxious to catch this train." The man paused, whistle in hand, to turn in the direction whither he pointed, and even as he looked, through the dark narrow entry ran a slight girl's figure. She did not hesitate, though the slow train, which called at every village between Trécour and Sérizay, was already, though almost imperceptibly, in motion; but ran And quite forgotten also the fact that she was not alone; that the window out of which she leant and nodded was usurped; that its rightful owner, to whom she had so much cause to be grateful, was fain to be content with other than the one he had chosen, or do without altogether. Her unconsciousness amused her fellow-traveller; it fitted in, all unconsciously, with the preconceived opinion of her that he had formed as he had listened to her voice. She was just what he had pictured — young, very young, perhaps not more than sixteen. English, of course, that he had guessed; not beautiful, but as pretty as bright brown hair, and soft grey eyes, and a mouth as full and red as a pomegranate, could make her. And, in addition, youth and innocent enthusiasm in every tone of the voice, every movement of the slight figure. Suddenly, as he watched and speculated as to what especial form of pleasure this day's outing tended, she turned her head, and faced him with a look of blank despair. "Monsieur," speaking so hurriedly that he could scarcely follow her words, "what shall I do? I never took a ticket!" The movement of the train unsteadied her, and he held out his hand, fearing she would fall, as she stood thus before him; and as he did so, the sight of it recalled the assistance he had before rendered her. "Tell me," she cried, sinking down into the seat opposite him, "what must I do?" "Oh, it will be all right," he answered quietly. "Do not distress yourself. I will speak to the station-master at Séri-edly, her eyes wandering over the small, zay." dark head, where one or two grey hairs "Thanks, a thousand thanks. How showed. "Not handsome," - slowly, good of you! I was so afraid for the moment that they might send me back. Do you know, I have never travelled alone before, and I have been most unfortunate." "Yes," he assented. "First, you left your purse behind; then — No," he went on, "I am not Mephistopheles, you need not look so startled. I was on the other side of the hedge when you found it out." She gave a low laugh. "How very amusing," she answered, "that you should have met me again! What a curious coincidence that you should have helped me twice! First, with your hand; for, I am sure, if it had not been for you, they would never have let me in. Did you hear that the porter kept saying, 'No, no!' when I cried to get in ?" "I was not observing him, but he was very angry afterwards.' 66 Yes," she laughed again. And then for one brief moment there flashed through her mind all the lessons she had received anent men. How men, and, above all, strange men, were, as a race, to be avoided, and only spoken to, even those whose antecedents were unimpeachable, when protective females were at hand, ready to turn aside the dangerous shaft which the stronger sex only sought time and opportunity to let fly. But those men of whom, in her careless youth, she had received so many warn. ings, were quite different from this one, she decided confidently. Those of whom she had heard as preju dicial to the safety and happiness of girlhood were young themselves, blond and blue-eyed, stalwart and strong, rejoicing in health and strength; such a one would be known afar off. But this man was very different; and she raised a pair of frank, grey eyes to take note of his appearance, by way of proving her carefulness. He whom she watched noted in a moment the little check when, the anxiety subsiding, she was enabled to review her position, and was well aware of the feeling that had prompted it, or, at any rate, made a good guess at it. He drew a letter out of his pocket and read it through, whilst his opposite neigh. bor took a few brief notes. "Not at all young!" That was the mental summing up. "Not at all," decid "no, not handsome, but possibly might have been long ago when he was young.' Then her reflections were cut short by a pair of dark eyes suddenly meeting hers, and the doubtful "I think" was changed for a decided "I am sure he has been handsome." Thus sixteen epitomizing eight-and-thirty. A few minutes later, the story of this sudden, unexpected holiday was being told him. "My uncle, Monsieur de Croye, is at Sérizay for two or three days, and he remembered I was at the convent at Trécour, and has sent for me to spend to-day with him. And if I had missed the train, as I so nearly did, and all through Elise's obstinacy, I should not have been able to go till three this afternoon: the whole day would have been lost." "And what are you going to do at Séri. zay? It is not a very lively place." "Oh, but monsieur, I don't think you can know it, for indeed it is. And I will tell you what I hope "her voice fell a little. "To-night there is a dance at the Casino, and I hope from something my aunt said in her letter, that they are going. If there is one thing I long for, it is to go to a dance. I have never even seen one." Her eyes travelled past the man opposite towards the brilliant summer sunshine outside, and up to the clear, blue, early morning sky overhead, her lips parting into a little smile at the joyful prospect her words had conjured up. But suddenly the eyes returned to his face, the mind's flight was checked, those accents of despair that he had learnt to know fell on his ears. "Elise had it," she cried. "Oh, I wonder what she did with it? Did you see? No, of course you were not looking out. I never thought of it for one moment. It was my bag," she went on in a more explanatory voice; "she was carrying it. Oh, what shall I do?" "Surely she will send it after you. You say there is another train at three." "Yes," despairingly; "but Elise is so stupid." "Well, you must telegraph," he said decidedly. "We shall arrive at Courville in five minutes, and you must send a message from there." A look of relief passed over her face. He took out a pocket-book and tore off a sheet. "Have you a pencil?" he asked; and when she shook her head, he unfastened a small gold pencil-case from his watch chain and held it out to her. She took it absently, unbuttoning her gloves, the while her mind sought the right words in which to frame her message; but at the sight of the little gold toy, the perplexity for the moment was banished. "How very, very pretty!" she exclaimed. His eyes following the direction of hers, noted the little pencil-case, made in the form of an anchor. "Yes," he said, "I have had it ever since I first went to school. There is the anchor itself to represent hope; on its two points are engraved the names of my sister and myself —she gave it to me-Louis and Cécile. It is very small. I dare say you cannot make it out." "Oh, but I can - quite easily; and there is a cross engraved above for faith, and" she paused, her eyes roving over the little ornament for the third symbol – that of charity. in as few words as possible. At last she lifted her head, a frown on her smooth white forehead. "If only Sister Clementine had been at home," she sighed, "it would have been all right; she would have understood." Then her anxious glances encountered his, and, "It is really very important," she said hesitatingly. And he understood, as well as if she had explained it in words, that the bag contained the requisites for the possible ball. "Of course it is most important," he assented, rousing himself and leaning for. ward; "but between us we will overcome all the difficulties. You write the message, and I will get out at Courville, and see that it goes." "It is very good of you;" but she was thinking far more of the probabilities of the three o'clock train bringing her that of which she stood in need, than of the polite answer to his speech. "The little piece of gold cord that fastens it to my watch-chain is meant to rep-handed him the slip of paper. resent love," he said, in answer to the inquiring look. She wrote in silence for a moment, then "Of course, the threefold cord that is not quickly broken. It is one of the prettiest things I ever saw. And you say your sister gave it to you when you first went to school. You must have taken great care of it." "It was a long time ago;" and he smiled, but a moment afterwards sighed. "Yes," she assented, "it must have been." 66 "I was ten, and she a little girl of eight a very pretty little girl; and she gave me this because she was so unhappy at my going we had never been separated before. My father gave me a watch and chain by way of inaugurating my entrance into life, and Cécile brought me this, her chief treasure, for my further adornment." He smiled a little sadly as he spoke, watching the pretty girlish face listening so interestedly, and brought his mind back from the past into which it had strayed, with a little effort. "It must be very pleasant to be two," the girl remarked thoughtfully, fingering the little ornament; "to have either a brother or a sister. I have always wished for one. But I am quite forgetting the telegram," beginning hastily to write. And a minute later her fellow-traveller saw that he, his words, everything about him, was forgotten in the all-absorbing anxiety of striving to bring home to Elise's mind the necessities of the case "I don't think they can make any mis. take; do you?" A very slight smile, so swift that it had scarcely time to lighten for a second the gravity of his eyes, appeared, as he read the words, "From Dorothy Vyse to Sister Josephine. Send my bag by Three train. Very important." "Yes, Sister Josephine is the best person," she repeated meditatively. "She is younger, and more likely to understand." "I think it is sure to be all right," he assented; "you must make your uncle send some one to meet the train, so that you get it at once." "Yes, I might do that." A moment later the train drew up at Courville, and Miss Vyse was left alone whilst her fellow-traveller got out to send off the message. She stood at the window watching where he had vanished through the door that led into the telegraph office, and the train was on the point of starting when he reappeared. "Here," she called, as she saw him glance up and down in uncer. tainty, and, guided by her fresh voice, he made a few hasty steps towards where the brown head and slim young figure awaited him. Then the door was noisily slammed, and they were off again. "I thought you were going to be left behind this time," she said, laughing. "Yes," he answered, "but we have |