l den, which I dislike less because of
moisture and dirt--these being familiar to me--than because of the
lively reptiles which hold their nightly revels in it."

There was mingled humour and bitterness in Francisco's tone, as he
uttered this sentence, which he concluded with a heavy sigh.
Immediately after, the rusty bolts of their prison-door grated harshly
on their ears, and they listened sadly to the retreating footsteps of
one whom they now esteemed their only friend, as they died away in the
distance.

CHAPTER SEVEN.

SOME NEW CHARACTERS WALK, GLIDE, AND FURIOUSLY GALLOP INTO THE TALE, AND
OTHERWISE INTRODUCE THEMSELVES TO NOTICE.

In the interior court of a beautiful Moorish villa not far from the
city, sat Mrs Langley, wife of Colonel Langley, British consul at the
"Court" of Algiers.

The lady of whom we write was unusually romantic, for her romance
consisted of a deep undercurrent of powerful but quiet enthusiasm, with
a pretty strong surface-flow of common-sense. Her husband was a man of
noble mind and commanding presence--a magnificent representative John
Bull, with the polish of a courtier and the principles of a Christian;
one who had been wisely chosen to fill a very disagreeable post, full of
responsibility and danger.

On a stool at the feet of Mrs Langley sat a sunny second edition of
herself, about eight years of age, named Agnes. In the cradle which
Agnes had formerly occupied reposed a remarkably plump and dimpled
representative of the Colonel. When respectfully addressed he was
called Jim, but he was more familiarly known as Baby.

A small negress from beyond the Zahara, and blacker than any coal,
rocked Jim violently. For this--not the rocking, but the violence--she
had been unavailingly rebuked by Mrs Langley, until that lady's heart
had nearly lost all hope.

"There--you have done it again, Zubby," said Mrs Langley, referring to
a push that well-nigh rolled Master Jim, (as a sea-captain once said),
out at the starboard side of the cradle.

Zubby confessed her guilt, by looking abashed--and what a solemn look an
abashed one is in a negress with very large eyes!--as well as by rocking
more gently.

Agnes vented a sudden little laugh at the expression of Zubby's face;
and, the door opening at that moment, Colonel Langley entered the court,
and sat down beside his wife under the giant leaves of a small
banana-tree, whose life was drawn from a boxful of earth about three
feet sq