to Jeff's mouth sentiments which he did not express, and
made assumptions which his words do not warrant. He made no reference
to swords, reaping-hooks, bayonets, cannon, pots or pans, and did not
recommend that the young men of nations should remain untrained."

"Bravo! mother; thank you," said I, as the dear old creature dropped her
mild eyes once more on her work; "you have done me nothing but justice.
There is one point, however, on which I and those who are opposed to me
coincide exactly; it is this, that the best way to maintain peace is to
make yourself thoroughly capable and ready for war."

"With your peculiar views, that would be rather difficult, I should
fancy," said Nicholas, with a puzzled look.

"You fancy so, because you misunderstand my views," said I; "besides, I
have not yet fully explained them--but here comes one who will explain
them better than I can do myself."

As I spoke a man was seen to approach, with a smart free-and-easy air.

"It is my friend U. Biquitous," said I, rising and hastening to meet
him.

"Ah, Jeff, my boy, glad I've found you all together," cried my friend,
wringing my hand and raising his hat to the ladies. "Just come over to
say good-bye. I'm engaged again on the _Evergreen Isle_--same salary
and privileges as before--freer scope, if possible, than ever."

"And where are you going to, Mr Biquitous?" asked my mother.

"To Cyprus, madam,--the land of the--of the--the something or other; not
got coached up yet, but you shall have it all _in extenso_ ere long in
the _Evergreen_, with sketches of the scenery and natives. I'll order a
copy to be sent you."

"Very kind, thank you," said my mother; "you are fond of travelling, I
think?"

"Fond of it!" exclaimed my friend; "yes, but that feebly expresses my
sentiments,--I _revel_ in travelling, I am mad about it. To roam over
the world, by land and sea, gathering information, recording it,
collating it, extending it, condensing it, and publishing it, for the
benefit of the readers of the _Evergreen Isle_, is my chief terrestrial
joy."

"Why, Mr Biquitous," said Bella, looking up from her drawing, with a
slight elevation of the eyebrows, "I thought you were a married man."

"Ah! Mrs Naranovitsch, I understand your reproofs; but _that_, madam,
I call a celestial joy. Looking into my wife's blue eyes is what I call
star-gazing, and that is a celestial, not a terrestrial, occupation.
Next to making the stars twinkle,