iture was a long sofa, extending
from the door by which we entered to the farther end of the apartment.
Seating himself upon the sofa, my new acquaintance motioned to me to sit
beside him, and then, looking me full in the face, repeated his former
inquiry. 'In the name of all that is wonderful, how came you to know
aught of my language?'

'There is nothing wonderful in that,' said I; 'we are at the commencement
of a philological age, every one studies languages; that is, every one
who is fit for nothing else; philology being the last resource of dulness
and ennui, I have got a little in advance of the throng, by mastering the
Armenian alphabet; but I foresee the time when every unmarriageable miss,
and desperate blockhead, will likewise have acquired the letter of
Mesroub, and will know the term for bread, in Armenian, and perhaps that
for wine.'

'Kini,' said my companion; and that and the other word put me in mind of
the duties of hospitality. 'Will you eat bread and drink wine with me?'

'Willingly,' said I. Whereupon my companion, unlocking a closet,
produced on a silver salver, a loaf of bread, with a silver-handled
knife, and wine in a silver flask, with cups of the same metal. 'I hope
you like my fare,' said he, after we had both eaten and drunk.

'I like your bread,' said I, 'for it is stale; I like not your wine, it
is sweet, and I hate sweet wine.'

'It is wine of Cyprus,' said my entertainer; and, when I found that it
was wine of Cyprus, I tasted it again, and the second taste pleased me
much better than the first, notwithstanding that I still thought it
somewhat sweet. 'So,' said I after a pause, looking at my companion,
'you are an Armenian.'

'Yes,' said he, 'an Armenian born in London, but not less an Armenian on
that account. My father was a native of Ispahan, one of the celebrated
Armenian colony which was established there shortly after the time of the
dreadful hunger, which drove the children of Haik in swarms from their
original country, and scattered them over most parts of the eastern and
western world. In Ispahan he passed the greater portion of his life,
following mercantile pursuits with considerable success. Certain
enemies, however, having accused him to the despot of the place, of using
seditious language, he was compelled to flee, leaving most of his
property behind. Travelling in the direction of the west, he came at
last to London, where he established himself, and where he