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16 fair way to earning a handsome fortune by mesmerism. He was a Gaul, with a beautiful black beard. He had with him a young lady, a native also of the French empire, whom, by a few passes, he could throw into a state of seeming repose; when she read letters blindfolded, or when the letters were applied to the pit of her stomach she could tell you the contents without the smallest trouble. It was, however, indispensable that the French gentleman should read them first. There is an old Frenchwoman going about the streets of London who, on her side, “gets on” in a singular way. She is constantly to be seen at the northern end of the Burlington Arcade. Two large poodles are her stock in trade. When the exhibition is about to commence, with a wave of her hand she dismisses her two dogs,—the one straightway runs up Cork Street—the other up Old Burlington Street. In Clifford Street they cross each other, and each returns to his mistress by the route on which the other had set out. This ingenious lady is exceedingly well paid for this gratifying exhibition, and so “gets on” comfortably enough.

It would, however, require a volume to describe the manifold manners in which livings are to be earned in the streets of London. So enormous is the amount of money flying about that an Irish lady can support herself in comfort upon an apple-stall in a reasonably good situation. A crossing in a frequented thoroughfare is an estate. Life in London, however, is conducted on a very high pressure system indeed. There is, I fear, far greater difficulty in keeping money than in earning it. So far I have used simply the subsistence test of “getting on,” but if one were to speak of the thousand shifts and meannesses of which people are guilty, in order to “get on” in London society where the money ænigma has long since received a satisfactory solution, we should come straightway upon half the social vices and follies of the day. I never thought of opening that chapter in the stories of London Life upon the present occasion. As the result of some little experience of human struggles in this great Babylon in which my lot has been cast, I should strongly incline to the opinion that—save in cases where there is a heavy affliction such as blindness, or some disease which paralyses action and leaves a man to the mercy of his fellow-creatures—any man can “get on” in London in some fashion or other, save his own vices or bad habits stand in his way. Charlatanism has a good deal, and chance a great deal to do with the brilliant results; but I have not been writing of men who find Golcondas, but of those who are content to get on in London. A far more dismal story might be told about those who “get off.” 2em



enjoyed some privileges, as a traveller, under the auspices of a doctorial degree, and though I am not dignified with an M.D. title, the LL.D., for all practical and useful purposes, did just as well in the Levant. In fact, having an official position during my progress, I was known among the Arabs as El Hakim El Kebir, the great doctor—the doctor par excellence, and was not only frequently consulted on medical matters, but permitted and invited to penetrate into some of the mysteries of that domestic life which is in general carefully screened from foreign observation. Much has not been done to convey accurate notions of the family and social interest among Mahomedan races.

Lady Mary Wortley Montagu had the advantage of rank and the stimulant of curiosity, and has told her amusing tales of what she saw in Turkey, and some few privileged Christian ladies have since been welcomed into the recesses of the harem—nay, one or two Osmanli women of high position have been seen in European circles. In British India even the Zenanas have opened their doors to receive the visits of distinguished British females, and I have heard from members of my own family various accounts of what they have witnessed within the palace of a Mussulman prince; but, without being able to say much, I will dot down a few memories from my own experience.

The seclusion of women in oriental countries is not a habit introduced by, or even peculiar to, the Mahomedans. In patriarchal times we learn that Sarah, Abraham’s life, had a tent of her own, to which Rebekah, when betrothed to Isaac, was conveyed, and the separate tents of the women are frequently spoken of in the book of Genesis.

A description which would serve as a modern princely harem, is found in the provision made for King Ahasuerus (Esther ii. 2 and 3), where fair young virgins are sought by the king, and “all the fair young virgins are gathered together unto Shushan the palace, to the house of the women, under custody of the king’s chamberlain”—an eunuch, no doubt—the keeper of the women. The separation of the sexes was carried further by those of elevated rank than among the less opulent classes, but the veiling of women is still practised both by Jews and Christians in the Levant. The poetry of the East is full of the passion of love, yet, whatever may be the admiration for beauty and the professions of attachment to females, I know of no part of the world in which they are raised to a position of absolute equality with men,—certainly the Levant affords no such example. Reverence for parents and ancestors in which, of course, are included mothers, grandmothers, and female progenitors, is a universal religion in China,—the religion of all the sects, whether Confucians, Buddhists, or Taouists; but the condition of woman is generally unenviable and unhappy, and it can hardly be otherwise where polygamy is sanctioned alike by law and by usage.

I once dined with an Aga in a village of Palestine. No Mahomedans, except his own family, were among the guests, and he, like many of his race did not hesitate in allowing himself more than one luxury denounced as sinful by the Koran, especially when he could screen himself from the observations of more severe and more censorious followers of Islam.

I have listened to strange excuses for the enjoyment of intoxicating beverages—wine and spirituous drinks are undoubtedly prohibited by