they
mistook for the fruit of a tree, while it is, in truth, the dried body
of an insect. It affords a vermilion dye, not so brilliant, but far
more durable than the cochineal of Mexico. There are in the
Netherlands," she continued, "rich tapestries dyed with kermes, known
to be three hundred years old, which still retain their pristine
brilliancy of color. Only think, Mrs. Shortridge, of having carpets,
shawls and cloaks of such unfading hues!"

"They would be of no use to me," yawned Mrs. Shortridge, "I would be
even more tired of myself than of my cloak, before the end of three
hundred years."

"Why," exclaimed L'Isle, "this indestructible dye must be the very
stuff with which the old lady of Babylon dyed her petticoat; for it
has not faded in the least since she first put it on, as we may see in
this country, where she wears it openly, without even a decent piece
of lawn over it, to suppress the brightness of its hues."

"As our lives are not so lasting as the dye Lady Mabel talks of," said
the commissary, "let us make the most of them by taking horse at once,
and hastening on, for we must pass through Villa Vicosa, and sleep
several miles beyond it to-night."

Returning to the road, they presently reached a cultivated valley, and
passed through a hamlet, scarcely seen before it was entered, so
completely were the low stone walls of the houses hidden by the olive,
orange, almond, and other fruit-trees surrounding them. The only
inhabitants visible were two or three squalid children, playing in the
road, and a woman lounging at her door, eyeing the party with mingled
curiosity and suspicion, while a stout yearling calf pushed
unceremoniously past her into the house, thus asserting his right as a
member of the family.

L'Isle paused before the little church, just beyond the village, and
pointed out to Lady Mabel a curious cross, the first of the kind she
had met with, though common enough in the peninsula. It was composed
of human skulls, on a pedestal of thigh bones, the whole let into the
wall, and secured by a rough kind of stucco.

"Certainly these people have curious ways of exciting devotional
fervor, and keeping death in memory," said Lady Mabel.

"One might suppose them to have remarked the grave-digger, who deals
habitually with the moldering remains of humanity, to be the most
God-fearing of men," said L'Isle; "so they seek to afford to every one
the devotional incentives peculiar to the grave-digg