of the monarchy! Prestige!-the empty gilded gaudy juggernaut under which the nation will again be crushed to a pulp of blood and dust!

Many persons look forward hopefully to the return of Giolitti to power. Giolitti has certain fine qualities; he is cool, courageous, and inspires strong personal attachments, especially in his own province; he is, moreover, the terror of the Crispini. But from his administration there would be nothing new or very liberal to be looked for; it would be built on the old lines. Cavalotti has attained a high position in the last year, and for courage and tenacity of purpose has no equal; but I should regret to see him take office-that extinguisher of patriotism-and though a superb frondeur, it is doubtful if he would be a good minister, unless in a republic. On the whole the prospect is melancholy, and the future dark. The whole spectacle from the result at the opening day at Montecitorio, must leave the most profound sense of discouragement on any one who loves the country. Is she to be asked to live forever on empty words, the electric light, and the joys of the Questura? Little else is offered her, except the privilege of sending some of her sons in the national uniform to cut down others of her sons in volunteer's rags who have gone to fight for Crete and Greece.

OUIDA.

From Macmillan's Magazine. NELL: A BIOGRAPHICAL FRAGMENT.

She was a mongrel, an unmitigated mongrel, I was about to write, but am restrained by the recollection that she was one quarter good fox-terrier. You would not have thought it to look at her. Except for her tail (which her owner had considerately docked in infancy, to impart as much as he could of a false air of breeding), she might have been the veriest garu, or native cur, who sneaked hungrily about the empty porridge-pots in a Mang'anja village.

technicalities of canine phraseology to describe Nell's appearance correctly. All I know is, that she was white, with two liver-colored patches on her head and face, and that she had enormous flapping ears which generally stood erect. I have known her scared almost into fits (and well she might be) by the shadow of these same ears projected on the wall by my bedroom candle. As for her moral character, it may be summed up in a sentence; she had a warm heart, no conscience, not a particle of courage, and not the remotest vestige of manners.

Her first owner was an English coffeeplanter, developing the resources of the Dark Continent in a retired spot, where, except for the Angoni, he might almost as well have been Robinson Crusoe. Fortunately for himself, he had a taste for reading, a great love of animals, and the knack of making friends with the natives. When he moved about out of doors, he usually appeared encompassed with a cloud of dogs; and when he visited his cattle kraal, his two grey monkeys would swing themselves down from the great wild fig-tree in whose branches they had fixed their abode, and swarm up him to take sweet potatoes out of his pockets.

Jones and I were trying British Central Africa together. I will not enter into details (this being not our biography, but Nell's), further than to say that our place was a few miles away from that of the aforesaid planter, whom I will call, as did his Angoni neighbors, Chimfuti, or the Big Gun. Jones had a black-and-white fox-terrier called Nix, a most jolly dog. Except for the ticks taking their share of him, the climate agreed with him wonderfully well, and he never lost the keen edge of his sporting instincts. But then Jones used to talk to him, and make a companion of him; and there were always plenty of rats, so that he did not get bored, and Jones slept of nights without finding the brutes rioting over him as he lay in bed.

I had no dog, and Chimfuti offered me Nell. She was, I suppose, seven or

foolish as only a half-grown puppy can be. I received her with effusive gratitude, because, just then, I was in a mood to welcome any sort of a dog; and, besides, I was full of grand theories about the influence of kindness and judicious training on the lowest mongrel in creation. If the average garu was a sorry spectacle, it was only because he was starved and bullied. Treat him kindly, feed him decently, let him see that you cared for him personally, and valued his friendship, and you would in time have a faithful dependant, who, given the opportunity, would be quite ready to emulate the classic example of Gelert or the hound Argus. I used to say all this to Jones sometimes, as we sat on the verandah smoking after dinner, and watched the sun setting behind the three peaks of Mvai; but he would only give a little laugh and make no further comment.

The subject is a painful one. Suffice it to say that I was compelled to modify my opinions before I had done. Not that she was anything but affectionate, in a way; she would have been warmly attached, I think, to any one who fed her regularly, and I always did this myself. But it is not pleasant to have your dog flinging its whole bulk upon you, and copiously licking your face every time you take your ease in a basketchair. And she was not one who took hints readily. The only way to smoke or read in peace was either to shut her out or tie her up. If the former, she invariably bounced back through a window, for it was impossible to keep the house hermetically sealed in that climate; if the latter, she wailed dismally, till Jones said he could not and would not bear it, and asked me why I did not bring her up better.

Then she took to sleeping on my bed, by day or night and totally regardless of previous occupancy. It was a narrow folding stretcher, with scarcely room for more than one; consequently, it often happened that I awoke in the night, and found myself balanced on the outer verge, with Nell curled up in the middle of the mattress against the small of my back. Or I would find her lying

on my feet, and she was no light weight; and, as for kicking her off, it was next door to an impossibility. She would lie perfectly still, an inert but elastic mass, so that your feet, when you assayed to kick, just slid under her and left her where she was. There was nothing for it but to get up and haul her down, and tie her up, and go to sleep as best one could, in spite of her yelping and yowling, only too thankful if she did not awaken Nix, and cause Jones to shout from his chamber: "Why can't you keep that brute-beast of yours quiet?"

But Nell,-Jones thought I was not strict enough with her (Nix, of course, being a model of correct nurture), so I took to thrashing her whenever I caught her on my bed in the daytime. I kept a bango cane handy in the corner of the room; she made a great noise when it was applied, but I don't know that it hurt her much. For a bango, let me tell you, is by no means the same thing as a bamboo, and, if not carefully selected, is apt to fly to pieces in the hand when vigorously used. However, between that and the tying-up at night, she began to realize that the bed was a forbidden place; and this is where her abominable lack of conscience comes in.

She learned to retire of her own accord to the basket appointed for her, and to stay there without compulsion till I was asleep, when she would quietly get up, and edge me out of bed as before described. Also she would sleep on that bed in the day-time, whenever she got the chance. If I came in, and said, sharply, "Nell!" she would jump down in a tremendous hurry, only to slip back the moment I was out of sight. I should have respected her more if there had been more method and capability in her transgressions; but she was SO inanely short-sighted. She would barely give me time to get out of the room before repeating the offence.

We had been warned always to keep our dogs indoors at night, in view of the risks so graphically indicated by that worthy Scot who, being one of a cheerful party in a lamp-lit and curtained room at the Mission, heard a scuffle and

howl on the verandah, followed by an ominous stillness, and solemnly remarked: "Man, the dowg's awa' wi' a leopard!" Is it not recorded in the traditions of British Central Africa? But I am bound to say that no special precautions were needed in Nell's case. Nothing would induce her to put her nose outside the door after dark, if she knew it.

Perhaps it was another evidence of a nervous temperament that she had a cat-like horror of water, which, indeed, suggested a more efficacious chastisement than the cane. Before long she would fly in terror at the mere sight of a jug. She used to wash her face with her fore paws, too, which I never saw any other dog doing. It may be the case that native dogs are partly descended from cats; the ancients told us we were always to expect something new from Africa.

But, alas, there were yet other sins which called aloud for the intervention of the cane and the water-jug. There would be a sound of tumult outside, causing us to issue forth and confront the spectacle of half-a-dozen small boys in shirts and calico kilts, the foremost whereof, with the air of an Accusing Angel, was dragging the offending Nell along by the collar. "Garu wako a na ba!" said he. "Thy dog has been stealing!" The grammar tells us that it is more respectful to say, “garu wanu (your dog);" whence I conclude that either the little wretches did not know their own language so well as the missionary who wrote the said grammar, or they thought no respect could be due to the owner of a dog like that. Of course I had to thrash her, and compensate the boy whose fowl or porridge she had stolen, and who commonly held out a rescued leg of the corpus delicti, or the plate which had contained it, in front of her nose while she was undergoing punishment. She made noise enough for half-a-dozen dogs when this sort of thing happened; and thus, possibly, escaped a good deal.

Sometimes, too, our capitao, an educated boy from the Mission, came up to report that he had suffered loss, of his

dinner, or of eggs from under a sitting hen in his private apartment, or what not. There was a sternness in Zedekiah's eye on these occasions, and a lofty disapproval in his manner, which were not easy to face; and Jones, who could pulverize Zedekiah with a look when he liked, never would help me out, but sat by, smoking with stony impassiveness. It always made me sensible that the contempt Jones habitually felt for Nell, which he never took any pains to disguise, was now being extended to And you have no idea to what an abject being that consciousness reduced

me.

me.

One comfort was that Nyell, as the boys usually called her, was not sporting enough to worry live fowls, or Jones would certainly have insisted on a halter for her straightway. Nix did, occasionally,-but we are not treating of Nix just now. Once, when I was at Pembereka's kraal, negotiating for supplies of maize flour and beans, Nell made my heart leap into my mouth by slaying a diminutive and very skinny chicken. But, old Pembereka was not Zedekiah, and he accepted my apologies most good-naturedly. And I really think that was Nell's solitary exploit in the way of slaughter.

While on the subject of sport, I must not omit to mention the sole occasion on which Nell earned for herself unalloyed praise. It was rather a mysterious occurrence, and I don't quite know, even yet, how to explain it. I used to collect beetles, in a helpless, amateur sort of way, to the derision of Jones and the contemptuous wonder of the various small boys who served us. These last, however, speedily learned that something might be gained by bringing me specimens; consequently every creeping thing they set eyes on was pounced upon with triumphant shouts of balasuko!-which, I believe, means a bottle, and referred, of course, not to the captive, but to the lethal receptacle awaiting him. Well, one day, being busy in the garden, I was startled by a shout from Jones: "I say, Duffield, Nell's brought you a balasuko!" I hastened indoors, and found Jones nearly

doubled up with laughing, and Nell, seated in the middle of the matting, with both fore paws stretched out in front of her, looking up at him with wondering and slightly reproachful eyes. Between her paws she held, alive and uninjured, an immense beetle. I don't know his scientific name, or indeed, any name at all for him, but he was long and flat and brown and had terrific jaws, and I was very glad to add him to my collection. Nell looked as pleased as Punch when I took him from her; and when I patted her and called her "good dog," she jumped all over me and nearly knocked me down. As for what made her do it-well, I give it up! Jones says she had been watching the boys, and thought she had found a way to please me. If that was not her reason, nobody will ever find out what was. And now, concerning Nell's early career at Nziza, let this much suffice.

Now it came to pass, in course of time, that the climate did not agree with me, and I was forced to dissolve partnership with Jones, to my great regret. Whether it was equally to his, I do not know.

I could not take Nell out of the country with me, and Jones would not have her as a gift. He said, moreover, that if she stayed about the place, she would probably meet with an accident of some sort; and I think he mentioned strychnine.

"As for that thing," said Chimfuti one day when we were discussing the question of dogs, "if you'll take her with you and drown her in the first stream you come to, you'll be doing every one a service." So, clearly, Chimfuti did not want her.

Just as I had everything ready to start at peep of dawn next morning-the loads accurately packed and fastened, and the carriers seated round their fires, making popcorn in the lids of old biscuit-tins, and passing the big pipes from hand to hand-there arrived an unexpected wayfarer, Mac, of the Caledonian Mission, which has its headquarters at Mangasanja.

Now I had to go to Mangasanja on my way down country, and Mac was like

wise bound thither. And after that, he said, he was going to take charge of a new station they were building in the Chingomanji mountains; and he would be all alone there, and he had no dog. This he said, having heard some mention of Nell. I offered her at once. Mac accepted, and while I went to fetch her, Jones, assuming a doleful expression of countenance, delivered an extempore and exhaustive character-sketch of the most scathing description. Mac, however, was impervious to his warnings. He said the dog was young, and needed good training (Mac was great on education in all its branches), and he meant to be kind but firm. With that she was handed over to him, and we started next day. Jones and Nix walked with us to the end of the hoed road; and the parting words shouted after us by the former were to the effect that he advised Mac, as a friend, to put an end to that brute before she got him into trouble.

Nothing particular happened on the road. She howled dismally at the ford of the Kapeni, and ran up and down the bank like one distraught, fearing she was to be left behind. One of the boys, with a judicious shove, sent her into the water; and, after the first indignant outcry, she struck out bravely and reached the other side in safety. After that, she trotted along gaily enough, and, though pretty tired by the time we reached Mangasanja Mission, she had done the whole march on her own feet.

They were very kind and hospitable people at the Mission; and they asked me to stay there till a steamer should arrive to take me down the river. But they did not care about dogs. Therefore, I was glad that Mac, on arriving, led Nell away (by a string) to his own house, where he was just packing up to leave for Chingomanji. He told me that he meant to secure her carefully before coming up, as he had been bidden to dine at the Manse in the evening.

The doctor was an awful man (I speak subjectively, of course, meaning merely as he affected my unworthy self), with piercing grey eyes, and a bushy white

beard. Every time he looked at me, I fancied he was detecting hidden heresies, and would presently drag them ruthlessly to light. I fancied, too (it may be quite baselessly), that his excellent wife regarded me as an incompetent Laodicean sort of person, as devoid of zeal for improving my fellowcreatures as I was of business capacity and the stamina necessary for succeeding in life. As I say, I may have been mistaken on this point; but it will be quite clear that I was by no means at my ease to begin with. And then

The soup had been removed, and the head table-boy was just setting down the roast fowl before the master of the house (whose view of the French window was, by the by, obstructed by a tall vase of flowers in the middle of the table), when there was a crash of glass, a whirlwind of curtain and something white bounded in from the verandah and made straight for me.

efforts to leap all over me. I cannot tell you how covered I was with confusion; I was vainly striving to collect my wits and say something, anything, when I heard honest Mac's voice from the other end of the table. "Ah! yon'll be juist ma dowg, Mistress Menzies. I tied him up in the verandy a while syne, but—"

Mrs. Menzies did not wait for the conclusion of the apology, but turned a majestic and freezing glance on me. "Why do the boys say it is your dog, Mr. Duffield?"

As I live I can't see that it was a hanging matter, whichever way you like to take it; but she made me feel like the worst of criminals. At the same time there flashed across the other side of my dual consciousness a grotesque temptation to reply, "Because the boys are not infallible."

So.

"Heh!" (the inimitable African grunt). "Garu!" said the solemn-faced whiteshirted boy, standing with the fowl suspended in mid-air.

Mrs. Doctor mounted her glasses and tried to see. I had succeeded in kicking Nell into limbo below the table, but she bounded out on the other side, between the skirts of two ladies, and began circling round the room in a frantic and noisy war-dance.

Chingomanji.”

I made a shamefaced offer to replace the broken window-pane (no trifling matter in those regions), but it was politely declined. It lay all the heavier on my conscience, and I privately resolved to contribute the amount to the offertory in church. In the mean time Nell was sent down to Mac's house in charge of a boy,-whom she bit.

After dinner we adjourned to the church for evening prayers. On the

The reverend doctor bent his spectacles on the leaping and vociferating Nell, and questioned the boys in Mang'anja. The wretch with the roast fowl (having safely landed the same by this time) looked at me with a slight smile and a pitying superiority too lofty almost for contempt, and said, "Wa mzungu uja (of that white man)."

Nell had come round again to me by this time, and was making violent

white-robed figures in the dusk, I heard a voice say, in the soft, rich native accents: "That is the Mzungu whose dog has broken the window at Che Dotolo's house."

I could have turned and fled, but I was walking beside one of the ladies. She was engrossed in telling me about the moral effect of individual ownership in land, and evidently did not hear. A few yards further on we heard the tinkle of brass anklets, and came up