I should most gladly have taken him on with me to London, had I not deemed it better for him to leave him for the while behind in Hungary. A friend of mine, who lived in the country, received him kindly into his house; and when, after a year's absence, I returned from England, I was not a little surprised to find my young Tartar dressed in the Hungarian costume, and, instead of the turban, with his hair nicely curled and trimmed, with a rather droll air and demeanour, and a certain stiff gravity in his manner. He had learned the Hungarian language in a very short time; he was everywhere liked and heartily welcomed, and when, for the first time, I saw him smartly dressed, and with gloves on his hands, talking most courteously and earnestly to a lady in her drawing-room, I could scarcely refrain from laughter. Two years ago a Mollah of a Medresse, he is now grown into half a dandy:--in truth what cannot be made of an Oriental? Being able to write as well as speak Hungarian, my friends kindly procured him an appointment as assistant-librarian in the Academy, which position he fills at the present moment. When I question him about his new life, and talk to him of the difference between Eastern and Western manners and habits, I find that his past life floats like a dream across his mind, which he cherishes only as a distant reminiscence, but which he would not on any account exchange for his present existence. He rarely feels any longing for his native home, and he loves our Western civilisation for the following reasons. In the first place, he is particularly pleased with the perfect security that society affords to the individual, and the absence of any arbitrary tyranny on the part of the Government. In Central Asia a man's bare life is not safe on the roads from robbers; in the towns he is threatened with constant danger from the barbarous decrees of the authorities. The frequent cruel executions, the desolating civil wars in his country, have never struck him until now, when he has become aware how thousands of persons come in daily contact with each other, without quarrels, fighting, or bloodshed ensuing--all consequences of frequent occurrence in his native country. Secondly, the comfort which Europeans enjoy, at once benefits and captivates him. He finds the house of a simple citizen better appointed than the palace of his sovereign. The cleanliness in dress and food, the reciprocal offices of kindness and courtesies of society, are magnets which attract him and make him forget his rude and uncivilised home. Thirdly, it is a special delight to him to find that the various differences of religion and nationality are scarcely ever felt here, whilst in the East they form the strongest barriers between man and man. With him at home the mere notion of visiting the country of the Frengi would have been certain death, and now he lives in the very heart of their land, not only without encountering hostility, but actually received with cordiality and affection.