a

Whether the line of the Euphrates valley, or that of the Tigris valley, should be ultimately decided upon for the construction of high road or a railway, the moment the Taurus and Anti-Taurus is surmounted (which on the line by the Gates of Cilicia are alone succeeded by the Pass of Amanus at Baylan-the ancient Gates of Syria) all further difficulties cease. If the line of the Tigris was adopted, the road should not follow the ri er, but be carried on the line of the existing high road by the important towns of Arbil and Kirkuk to Baghdad. There are no towns on the Tigrissave Tekrit of no importance whatsoever-between Mosul and Baghdad.

Whether the Mediterranean line started from Mersina, Ayas, Alexandretta, or the Bay of Antioch, it would join a line by the Cilician Gates almost at once; but if the line by Diyarbekir was selected, it would have to be carried across North Syria and North Mesopotamia, as we have before seen, to Nisibin, or, rather, to a point between Mardin and that ancient city. Some have suggested

a line across the Jebel Tur, or Mons Masius, to Jezireh.ibn-Omar. It would be simply carrying a road across a very stony, rocky, and hilly country, for no good purpose whatsoever; for from Nisibin to Mosul is like a bowling green, and Jezireh could be best reached from Mosul or from Se'ert, which must, from the necessities of the case, be an outpost to the Pass of Betlis.

Taking all and all into consideration, we come to the conclusion that, with a Protectorate of Asiatic Turkey, the line by Dyarbekir is the one to be preferred. The distance from Constantinople to Baghdad is pretty nearly the same either by the Euphrates or the Tigris valleys, and although the latter has the tremendous difficulties to overcome of the Chamlu and Kara Bels, and of the still more difficult mountainous country around Divriki and Arab. Kir, still it serves more towns, it approaches nearer to Armenia, and it opens better commercial and financial prospects than any other-commanding, as it does, such a vast extent of country-and in a strategical point of view there is no comparison as to the advantages presented by the one line over the other. As to lines projected from the southern coast of Syria or Palestine, or from Egypt to the Persian Gulf, they are scarcely worthy of serious consideration. They would only serve as alternative lines to India, and transit would be of no use whatsoever in opening Asiatic Turkey to commerce, industry, and intercommunication, or in enabling the Turks and their allies to take up an efficient position in case of an advance of the Russians into any part of the country.

EXCUSE me; no, he did not write it.

"A crushed tragedian?" pardon me, not at all. He was never on the stage of a theatre in his life, to my knowledge; and I think I have been pretty well acquainted with his movements since he was a boy.

Too much so, you may say, when you have read the following pages.

However, I am not so sure of that it really was not my fault. No, I am not going to "sneak out of it;" you shall hear the whole story, if you will only give me time, and then you can judge for yourself, madam.

Perhaps I ought to have said tragi-comedy, rather than tragedy pure and simple; but there! I am not so sure of that, either it was a very tragedy for Timmins, and others too; and I was blamed for it in more quarters than one, though most unjustly, as I hope to be able to prove to your satisfaction, miss.

We went to school together, Timmins and I, aud then we were placed in the same office in the City; when, as our respective parents lived in the country, we occupied the same lodgings in a semi-genteel street off the Old Kent Road, from which our office was easily accessible by 'bus.

Like most young fellows, we gave a whole year of our valuable time to our employers for nothing, and were compelled to do no end of drudgery. There were about three hundred of us clerks in the warehouse, and of that number a third received no salary, and had to keep themselves, or rather their struggling parents had to do so for them. No wonder, then, that Screw, Grind & Co. were one of the wealthiest firms in their own line in the City, especially as they paid their other clerks the very smallest possible pittances for which they exacted more work than any other employers in London.

Thank you, sir, it does not matter what line of business those gentlemen were engaged in. Timmins left at the end of the year, and I did not make a very prolonged stay in the warehouse after he

was gone.

What did we do? Well, my friend obtained employment in

the advertising department of a daily newspaper, on the staff of which he now occupies a very enviable position; and I—well, it does not signify what I did, or do I am not on the parish, nor likely to be.

:

We were great friends-the greatest of friends, in fact; and it was one of the deepest sorrows of my life when Timmins confided to me, late one evening, or rather early one morning, that he was going to be married.

You might have knocked me down with a feather, as the saying is; so comfortable as we had been together!

“Oh, Frank,” I exclaimed, on the spur of the moment, “I am sorry!"

"For me, Charley?"

"No; for myself, Frank: how I shall get on without you, I'm sure I don't know."

"I am almost sorry myself, Charley, in one sense: that is, I shall miss you."

I shook my head.

"Yes I shall, old fellow; you don't doubt that, I hope; but I shall see you often, every day, of course, and perhaps, after a while you will follow my example."

The idea was too ridiculous. I, Charley Sheppard, married! Nonsense! "No, thanks," I replied, "you don't catch me giving up my precious liberty so easily, I can tell you; but you have kept it mortal quiet, old man, I had not an idea. Who is she?"

"Well, perhaps it is rather sudden," admitted my friend; and continued; but I never take long to make up my mind, you have never seen her."

know-you

"Not the Jennings, then?" I said.

Frank shook his head, and smiled-rather a ghastly smile, I thought. "Not likely. It's mostly the mater's doing, you know; but I am very fond of her, all the same."

"No doubt," I answered, somewhat incredulously.
"You don't suppose I'd marry her if I was not ?"
"Tin?" I inquired, ignoring his question.

"Some."

"Oh !"

Our conversation was becoming monosyllabic, and I, hurt at the quiet, not to say underhand, way in which my friend had arrived at the grand decision without consulting, or confiding in me, took up the bedroom candle, and turned to leave the room.

"Going to bed?" inquired Frank.

I nodded, but made no verbal answer.

"So shall I."

We occupied the same apartment, and in a few minutes were in our respective beds.

66

Sleep?" No, not for the life of me could I close an eye. I don't think I ever felt so low-spirited in all my days: very little more, and I should have wept outright. However, I kept quite still. Frank was awake, and very restless; he tossed about, and sighed more than once in a particularly dolorous manner, that went to my heart.

I began to feel that I could not much longer contain myself, when, just as I was on the point of speaking, my friend anticipated me, and called out, "Charley?"

"Yes, Frank," I replied, "What is it? "What is it? I thought you were asleep long ago."

"I? No; couldn't sleep were it ever so." Why not?"

"Are you vexed with me?"

"My dear fellow, no: why do you ask?"

"I thought you were, Charley; and I know I ought to have told you about it before; but, you see, it came on suddenly at the last, as I told you; I had no notion of anything of the kind this morning, when I went out from here to go to the office."

"No ?"

"No, I assure you. Of course we have been acquainted some time, but I had no idea she was disposed to-to-"

"Smile on you."

"Well, yes, if you like; but I met her at the Mortimers', where the mater is staying on a visit, you know, and it came about quite unexpectedly, during a game of croquet-one thing led to another, you see, and I proposed, and was accepted sans façon."

"I wish you joy, Frank, with all my heart. It is too selfish to wish to keep you always; but I shall miss you more than I can say."

I spoke thick, for the words stuck in my throat, and, as it was dark, I suffered the tears to run down my face unrestrained.

"So shall I, my dear fellow," replied my friend, little less moved than myself, so sball I-in fact, I-I think you might come and live with us."

"The notion was too absurd; but I had no inclination to laugh, and said: "My dear fellow, that would never do."

I suppose my friend saw it, too, for he said nothing for a minute or so, when he exclaimed: "We shall always be friends, Charley?"

"Certainly, my dear Frank, come what will."

Frank jumped out of bed, crossed the room to where I lay, and taking my hand in both of his, squeezed it, until I was forced to cry out.

He sat down on the side of my bed, and we talked for a long

time of our past and his future; then I insisted on his going back to bed, and soon afterwards, had the satisfaction of receiving audible proof that he was asleep; but for my part, I could not close an eye, and when daylight poured into our room, I was still awake.

After a while I became used to the idea of our separation, which I liked none the better nevertheless, and consoled myself with the reflection that it could only be temporary, seeing that we had been such intimate friends for so many years. It was impossible, I said to myself, that I could be forgotten altogether for the sake of any new friend, no matter how feminine and pretty.

:

We are all prone to deceive ourselves though whether I was altogether mistaken, the sequel will prove.

I was, in due course, introduced to my friend's fiancée, and a very nice girl I found her to be; not altogether what I should have fancied, perhaps, but still, I must say, on the whole a very nice girl. She seemed amiable, too—at least, that was my first impres sion; but after I had been in her eompany a few times, I noticed certain little imperious tappings of a very small foot, and sundry tossings of a pretty little head, that caused me to modify my opinion somewhat. Miss Clarke had a will of her own, it was plain to see; and after a while, I fancied I was not regarded by the young lady with too favourable an eye.

Not that she was anything but the essence of politeness as far as I was concerned; too much so, in fact, for she would go out of her way to pay me equivocal compliments, which I dared not return, for fear of offending my friend.

She generally spoke of me as "Frank's friend," and on my venturing one day to hope the might also call me hers in time, she replied, with a smile that I did not quite like, for it was evidently only lip deep, that what dear Frank liked should ever have her best consideration.

The compliment was equivocal, but I bowed, and she continued in a similar strain, until I was as uncomfortable as she could have wished me to be, had my estimate of her regard for me been correct. The words she made use of, it was true, were capable of more than one construction; but her manner while speaking, I thought, was expressive of distrust, if not of positive dislike. However, it was possible I was mistaken, and, no doubt, I was a trifle jealous.

My friend's courtship progressed so favourably, that I could not but be reminded of the proverb that declares the course of true love not to run too smoothly; but I hoped for the best.

In process of time, Frank Timmins was married to Maria Clarke. He and I had lived together to the last, and I officiated as "best man" at the wedding, which took place from his motherin-law's brother's house at Brixton. I returned thanks for the