The. Iron Collar. 63 



fered my ire to cool. I signified my desire to pay, and was immediately 

 approached by a mischievous-looking young urchin, bearing in one hand 

 a circular mirror, set in a frame of ebony inlaid with mother of pearl, and 

 in the other a bottle of perfumed water, with which he sprinkled my face 

 and garments. After allowing me what he considered a sufficient time to 

 contemplate the improvement his master had wrought in my appearance, 

 he presented to me the back of the mirror, upon which I counted out 

 twenty paras (two-pence), and further presented him with some five or six 

 for himself. Whereupon he seized my hand, and inflicted upon it a vio- 

 lent kiss. I was then bowed out by the barber with a profusion of thanks 

 for my liberality) and arrived at Damala just in time to find the route 

 changed for Methana. 



Such is the force of habit, that, after a time, my chiefest luxury in 

 Greece was a thorough head-washing j barring, however, the joint-crack- 

 ing, against which I always continued to protest with the most exem- 

 plary indignation, though always much to the amazement of the Greek 

 barber. 



THE IRON COLLAR. 



" BY the rood, Father, I mark not the drift of thy speech. Is not the 

 deed merciful ? Nay, is it not reasonable ?" 



This question was put by a man, apparently about the mid-day of life, 

 who,leaning on an iron-pointed staff, his cap half pulled across his brow, 

 his lips suddenly compressed, and his eye fixed steadfastly upon another's 

 face, seemed as he would snatch an answer from the simple look of him 

 he had so earnestly addressed. The monk for it was a son of the church 

 from whom the speaker waited for counsel was unmoved by the energy 

 of the question, and with his still, passionless eye, glanced at a man, 

 standing submissively apart, yet evidently not without a violent effort 

 feigning composure, nay indifference. There were three actors in the 

 scene. The first was the master of the anxious wretch, whose fate was 

 about to be decided. A bold, open-featured man, with, it would seem, his 

 heart in his eyes, a man of good worldly substance and of cheerful mind ; 

 a strong contrast to the churchman, whose mealy features told more of the 

 chime and the wassail-bowl, than of holy thoughts and nocturnal medita- 

 tions ; and, in truth, the monk was one of those who an it were done 

 with all secresy would change the rib of a canonized saint, for the fat 

 body of a capon. He seemed expressly made to eat, drink, move slowly, 

 talk gravely, and wear a grey gown : he fulfilled his ordinance. The third 

 man was a slave. He looked wan and shrunk j he had a restless eye, and 

 his lip moved with ill-suppressed emotion, as he cast a side-long look at 

 the priest. He bore about his neck the badge of his condition an iron 

 collar. 



The speaker, vainly waiting for the answer of the monk, repeated his 

 questions " Is not the deed merciful ? Is it not reasonable ? " 



The priest replied with another question, put in a tone of seeming won- 

 der " Why, Sir, what hath urged thee to this business ? Take off the iron 

 collar of thy villain ? Why, when didst thou first dream of this ? Tell me 

 the history of this strange matter ? " 



