"No? Ah, well, I understand. There has been an alarm of an attack to-day, and doubtless all-for they are brave, energetic, and daring fellows, every one of them—are at their posts in the front. But come along with me, and I have no doubt I shall put you in the right way."

So saying, he unlocked the door, and Mathias found himself in the humble quarters of the great 'Veelliams Pasha,' as the General was commonly called. The accommodation was miserable to a degree (in point of fact the General did not reside there, if he could be said to reside anywhere, but only kept the place as a sort of office) but there were some remains of coarse food lying about amidst the papers and rubbish on one of the tables; and off them, such as they were, the General and the starving Mathias made a tolerably satisfactory meal. A little wine in a battered old tin pot revived the spirits of my hero no little, and he listened eagerly to the words of the General.

"There may be difficulty in finding your father tonight," said the latter, "and therefore you had better sleep on that couch-it's rather a rough one, but that you won't mind?—there; and then to-morrow I can send one with you who will find your father, if any one can. But, in case he should have fled from the place, or be wounded, or anything of that sort, I will place

your name on the list of one of the regiments, and then you will be entitled to pay and rations; though," he went on, with a comical but very pleasant smile illuminating his features, "though the former is just now uncommonly difficult to get at, and the latter are very scanty and very bad!"

Mathias gave up all hope of finding his father that night, willingly accepted the kind offer of General Williams as being the best course under the circumstances, and in five minutes was coiled up on the rude couch, sleeping the deep sleep of the wearied and of the overtaxed.

The next morning early, the General, who, when he did sleep, always slept in the midst of his troops near the Yussuf Pasha tabia, on the plain south of the city, called in and roused Mathias with the information that he had brought a Hungarian officer who would do for him all that lay in his power. Thanking the General warmly for his kindness, and pressing upon him (in his gratitude) promises of faithful service while in Kars, Mathias went out into the courtyard, where he met the Hungarian, who at once led the way into the crowded native bazaar,* and so towards the plateau on the south.

* The streets where the shops are mostly congregated are invariably called 'the bazaar' in an Eastern town.

The officer, who elbowed his way through the crowd with great assurance and a laughable air of importance, struck Mathias as being rather a dingy specimen of a commander. His uniform, besides being of a most nondescript character, was little better than a mass of rags sewn together; his top-boots, made in the fashion. called Hessian, appeared to be nearly worn out, while his accoutrements, such as they were, could hardly be excelled for dirt and general dilapidation. The only thing about him that seemed in a thorough state of repair was a huge cavalry sabre, which, clanking and clashing against his rusty spurs with exaggerated martial swagger and bravado, shone brilliantly in the sunlight-an oasis of polish amidst a desert of dirt and general dilapidation. But the Hungarian was not by any means singular in these respects, and Mathias began to fear, when he noted that nearly all the European officers (of many nationalities) they encountered were in a similar plight, that the state of things in Kars must be much worse than he had expected to find them.

"But my father," said Mathias, as they seemed to be leaving the town. "I want first of all to see my father?"

"Is he not with the troops then? I understood the General to say he was one of our officers.

What

is his name? General Williams did not mention

it."

Kisfaludy Jaños," answered Mathias, in the manner of his countrymen when mentioning a name.

Kisfaludy! There is but one of the name in Kars, and he--" the officer's tone was very grave as he spoke; he paused in the street, and all the swagger and bravado of his air seemed superseded by sorrow and sympathy.

"And he--?" gasped out the boy eagerly; "surely nothing has happened to him? Oh, for mercy's sake, do not keep me in suspense!"

"My poor boy," answered the officer, taking Mathias's hand, and leading him into a retired and shaded court, where he made him sit down on a bench; "my poor boy, if you are the son of Kisfaludy Jaños-—”

"I am, I am. He sent for me long ago to join him here. Is he not well?"

"The dead know no pain!" was the low, solemn reply of the officer.

"Dead?" Mathias looked up with a most agonized expression, as if questioning his very ears: "Dead? Oh, you cannot mean it! You cannot say my father is dead!"

The officer sat down beside him, holding the lad's

hand in his own, and soothing it as a mother would a fretful babe.

"Your father is indeed dead," he whispered low. "He passed away from us this day week only, from cholera, so suddenly that he could leave no word of you, or of his affairs. May God's will be done!" All the military vanity of the man went out of him as he spoke of a lost comrade, and he sat silent and still, watching the passionate grief of Mathias, and letting it have full vent, for more than an hour. Then he rose up, saying gently, "Let us go to our own countrymen; they all knew your father and loved him, though he took no part in the defence, and they will tell you all that all that can be known." Passively, Mathias suffered himself to be be drawn away, but a great cloud of disappointed affection settled down on him, to leave him no more.

"H

CHAPTER II.

BITTER REALITY.

USH! did you not hear something?" asked Mathias, one bitter cold morning about three o'clock, when returning with his friend Hunyady from visiting a poor fellow who had been seized with cholera in the Tahmasb tabia.