impossible--for when have I, even in my wildest freaks of fancy,
ever imagined a creature half so fair!"

His gaze rested dreamily on the opposite snow-clad peaks, above
which large fleecy clouds, themselves like moving mountains, were
slowly passing, their edges glowing with purple and gold as they
neared the sinking sun. Presently rousing himself, he took up a
pen and first of all addressing an envelope to

"THE HONBLE. FRANCIS VILLIERS,
"Constitutional Club,
"LONDON"

he rapidly wrote off the following letter:

"MONASTERY OF LARS,
"PASS OF DARIEL, CAUCASUS."

"MY DEAR VILLIERS:--Start not at the above address! I am not yet
vowed to perpetual seclusion, silence or celibacy! That I of all
men in the world should be in a Monastery will seem to you, who
know my prejudices, in the last degree absurd--nevertheless here I
am,--though here I do not remain, as it is my fixed intention to-
morrow at daybreak to depart straightway from hence en route for
the supposed site and ruins of Babylon. Yes,--Babylon! why not?
Perished greatness has always been a more interesting subject of
contemplation to me than existing littleness--and I dare say I
shall wander among the tumuli of the ancient fallen city with more
satisfaction than in the hot, humanity-packed streets of London,
Paris, or Vienna--all destined to become tumuli in their turn.