alone, with the Cossack rolled up, dozing but
watchful, at the door. And so I take some
companionable book out of my portmanteau and
read myself off to sleep.

It must be somewhere about two or three
o'clock in the morning when I am awoke by a
sense of near danger, and, starting up in
bed, I look round the room. There is nothing
visible, but I fancy I hear a slight noise, and
listen for some time attentively. I can
distinguish nothing but the regular breathing of
the Cossack soldier on the other side of the
door, and so, becoming convinced that nightmare
has startled me, I go off to sleep again
till morning. Then the mystery is explained.
Everything portable is gone. My clothes, my
watch, whatever has been left about has been
stolen. Yet the Cossack soldier never moved
from his post, and the thing seems incredible
till a stream of cold air makes me look towards
the window, and then the manner in which the
robbery has been effected is plain enough. One
of the panes of glass has been removed, and as
there are no shutters to the window a little country
lout has been passed through, according to a
common practice among Russian thieves, and has
stripped the room of its contents too stealthily
even to attract the attention of the watchful soldier
on guard within a few feet of him. Had I not
awoke at the right time I might very probably
have been deprived even of my bedclothes and
sleeve buttons. If the Russian peasant
displayed only one-tenth part of the ingenuity with
which he can consummate a robbery, in his own
legitimate concerns, he might be a prosperous
man. But his aversion to honest toil is
unconquerable, and his love of thieving inborn,
and surprising as to its dexterity.

HOLIDAY ROMANCE.

By CHARLES DICKENS.

IN FOUR PARTS.

PART IV.

ROMANCE. FROM THE PEN 0F MISS NETTIE
ASHFORD.*

* Aged half-past six.

THERE is a country, which I will show you
when I get into Maps, where the children have
everything their own way. It is a most delightful
country to live in. The grown-up people
are obliged to obey the children, and are never
allowed to sit up to supper, except on their
birthdays. The children order them to make
jam and jelly and marmalade, and tarts and
pies and puddings and all manner of pastry.
If they say they won't, they are put in the
corner till they do. They are sometimes allowed
to have some, but when they have some,
they generally have powders given them afterwards.

One of the inhabitants of this country, a truly
sweet young creature of the name of Mrs.
Orange, had the misfortune to be sadly plagued
by her numerous family. Her parents required
a great deal of looking after, and they had
connexions and companions who were scarcely ever
out of mischief. So Mrs. Orange said to
herself, "I really cannot be troubled with these
Torments any longer, I must put them all to
school."

Mrs. Orange took off her pinafore, and
dressed herself very nicely, and took up her
baby, and went out to call upon another lady
of the name of Mrs. Lemon, who kept a
Preparatory Establishment. Mrs. Orange stood
upon the scraper to pull at the bell, and gave
a Ring-ting-ting.

Mrs. Lemon's neat little housemaid, pulling
up her socks as she came along the passage,
answered the Ring-ting-ting.

"Good morning," said Mrs. Orange. "Fine
day. How do you do? Mrs. Lemon at home?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Will you say Mrs. Orange and baby?"

"Yes, ma'am. Walk in."

Mrs. Orange's baby was a very fine one,
and real wax all over. Mrs. Lemon's baby
was leather and bran. However, when Mrs.
Lemon came into the drawing-room with her
baby in her arms, Mrs. Orange said politely,
"Good morning. Fine day. How do you do?
And how is little Tootleum-Boots?"

"Well, she is but poorly. Cutting her teeth,
ma'am," said Mrs. Lemon.

"Oh, indeed, ma'am!" said Mrs. Orange.
"No fits, I hope?"

"No, ma'am."

"How many teeth has she, ma'am?"

"Five, ma'am."

"My Emilia, ma'am, has eight," said Mrs.
Orange. "Shall we lay them on the mantelpiece
side by side, while we converse?"

"By all means, ma'am," said Mrs. Lemon.
"Hem!"

"The first question is, ma'am," said Mrs.
Orange—"I don't bore you?"

"Not in the least, ma'am," said Mrs. Lemon.
"Far from it, I assure you."

"Then pray have you," said Mrs. Orange,
"have you any vacancies?"

"Yes, ma'am. How many might you require?"

"Why, the truth is, ma'am," said Mrs.
Orange, "I have come to the conclusion that
my children"—O I forgot to say that they call
the grown-up people, children, in that country—
"that my children are getting positively too
much for me. Let me see. Two parents, two
intimate friends of theirs, one godfather, two
godmothers, and an aunt. Have you as many
as eight vacancies?"

"I have just eight, ma'am," said Mrs. Lemon.

"Most fortunate! Terms moderate, I think?"

"Very moderate, ma'am."

"Diet good, I believe?"

"Excellent, ma'am."

"Unlimited?"

"Unlimited."

"Most satisfactory! Corporal punishment
dispensed with?"

"Why, we do occasionally shake," said Mrs.