very fast? Yes, whisking over the snow with all her might and main, and muffled up in cloaks and furs, as indeed was necessary, for her breath froze upon the big muffler round her throat, so that it seemed to become as hard as a stone wall; and by her side was a little boy, muffled up quite as close, with a cap, or rather hood, casing his whole head, his hands gloved in fur up to the elbows, and long fur boots. He had an immense long whip in his hand, and was flourishing it, and striking with it—at what? They were an enormous way off from him, but they really were very big dogs, rushing along like the wind, and bearing along with them—what? Lucy's ambition—a sledge, a thing without wheels, but gliding along most rapidly on the hard snow; flying, flying almost fast enough to take away her breath, and leaving birds, foxes, and any creature she saw for one instant, far behind. And—what was very odd—the young driver had no reins; he shouted at the dogs and now and then threw a stick at them, and they quite seemed to understand, and turned when he wanted them to turn. Lucy wondered how he or they knew the way, it all seemed such a waste of snow. They went so fast that at first she was unable to speak; then she ventured on gasping out, "Well, I've been in an express train, but this beats it! Where are you going?"

"To Petropawlowsky, to change these skins for coffee, and rice, and rice," answered the boy.

"What skins are they?" asked Lucy.

"Bears'—big brown bears that father killed in a cave—and wolves' and those of the little ermine and sable that we trap. We get much, much for the white ermine and his black tail. Father's coming in another sledge with, oh! such a big pile. Don't you hear his dogs yelp? We'll win the race yet! Ugh! hoo! hoo! ho-o-o-o!—On! on! lazy ones, on, I say! don't let the old dogs catch the young ones!"

Crack, crack, went the whip; the dogs yelped with eagerness,—they don't bark, those Northern dogs; the little Kamschatkadale bawled louder and louder, and never saw when Lucy rolled off behind, and was left in the middle of a huge snowdrift, while he flew on with his load.

Here were his father's dogs overtaking her; and then some one was picking her up. No, it was Don! and here was Mrs. Bunker exclaiming, "Well, if here is not Miss Lucy asleep on Master's old bearskin!"

CHAPTER X.

THE TURK.

"What a beautiful long necklace, Mrs. Bunker! May I have it for Lonicera?"

"You may play with it while you are here, Missie, if you'll take care not to break the string, but it is too curious for you to take home and lose. It is what they call a Turkish rosary; they say it is made of rose-leaves reduced to a paste and squeezed ever so hard together, and that the poor ladies that are shut up in the harems have little or nothing to do but to run them through their fingers."

"It has a very nice smell," said Lucy, examining the dark brown beads, which hung loosely on their string, and letting them fall one by one through her hands, till of course that happened which she was hoping for: she woke on a long, low sofa, in the midst of a room all carpet and cushions, in bright colors and gorgeous patterns, curling about with no particular meaning; and with a window of rich brass lattice-work.

And by her side there was an odd bubbling that put her in mind of blowing the soap-suds into a froth when preparing them for bubble blowing; but when she looked round she saw something very unlike the long pipes her big brother used, or the basin of soap-suds. There was a beautifully shaped glass bottle, and into it went a very long twisting tube, like a snake coiled on the floor, and the other end of the serpent, instead of a head, had an amber mouth-piece which went between a pair of lips. Lucy knew it for a hubble-bubble or Turkish pipe, and saw that the lips were in a brown face, with big black eyes, round which dark bluish circles were drawn. The jet-black hair was carefully braided with jewels, and over it was thrown a purple satin sort of pelisse over a white silk embroidered vest, tied in with a sash, striped with all manner of colors; also immense wide white trousers, out of which peeped a pair of brown bare feet, on which, however, were a splendid pair of slippers curled up at the toes.

The owner seemed to be very little older than Lucy, and sat gravely looking at her for a little while, then clapped her hands. A black woman came, and the young Turkish maiden said, "Bring coffee for the little Frank lady."

So a tiny table of mother-of-pearl was brought, and on it some exquisite little striped porcelain cups, standing not in saucers, but in silver filigree cups into which they exactly fitted. Lucy remembered her Chinese experience, and did not venture to ask for milk or sugar, but she found that the real Turkish coffee was so pure and delicate that she could drink it without.

"Where are your jewels?" then asked the little hostess.

"I'm not old enough to have any."

"How old are you?"

"Nine."

"Nine! I'm only ten, and I shall be married next week—-"

"Married! Oh, no, you are joking."

"Yes, I shall. Selim Bey has paid my father the dowry for me, and I shall be taken to his house next week."

"And I suppose you like him very much."

"He looks big and tall," said the child with exultation. "I saw him riding when I went with my mother to the Sweet Waters. 'Amina,' she said, 'there is your lord, in the Frankish coat—with the white horse.'"

"Have you not talked to him?" asked Lucy.

"What should I do that for?" said Amina.

"Aunt Bessie used to like to talk to nobody but Uncle Frank before they were married," replied Lucy.

"I shall talk enough when I am married," replied the little Turk. "I shall make him give me plenty of sweetmeats, and a carriage with two handsome bullocks, and the biggest Nubian black slave in the market to drive me to Sweet Waters, in a thin blue veil, with all my jewels on. Father says that Selim Bey will give me everything, and a Frank governess. What is a governess? Is it anything like the little gold case you have round your neck?"

"My locket with Mamma's hair? Oh, no, no," said Lucy, laughing; "a governess is a lady to teach you."

"I don't want to learn any more," said Amina, much disgusted; "I shall tell him I can make sweetmeats, and roll rose-leaves. What should I learn for?"

"Should you not like to read and write?"

"Teaching is only meant for men," replied Amina. "They have got to read the Koran, but it is all ugly letters; I won't learn to read."

"You don't know how nice it is to read stories all about different countries," said Lucy. "Ah! I wish I was in the schoolroom, at home, and I would show you how pleasant it is."

And Lucy seemed to have her wish all at once, for she and Amina stood in her own schoolroom, but with no one else there. The first thing Amina did was to scream, "Oh, what shocking windows! even men can see in; shut them up." She rolled herself up in her veil, and Lucy could only satisfy her by pulling down all the blinds, after which she ventured to look about a little. "What have you to sit on?" she asked with great disgust.

"Chairs and stools," said Lucy, laughing and showing them.

"These little tables with four legs! How can you sit on them?"

Lucy sat down and showed her. "That is not sitting," she said, and she tried to curl herself up cross-legged.

"Our teacher always makes us write a long grammar lesson if she sees us sitting with our legs crossed," said Lucy, laughing with much amusement at Amina's attempts to wriggle herself up on the stool from which she nearly fell.

"Ah, I will never have a governess!" cried Amina. "I will cry and cry, and give Selim Bey no rest till he promises to let me alone. What a dreadful place this is! Where can you sleep?"

"In bed, to be sure," said Lucy.

"I see no cushions to lie