forbidding any of his subjects from exporting old bones on pain of death. On his part, the Consul issued a notice calling upon all British subjects not to be such barbarians as to violate the tombs of pious Mussulmans, at the same time threatening them with the full weight of the Consular displeasure. I am assured that Yousef Bashaw never ate white sugar afterwards. * * * * * The liberties which Colonel Warrington was wont to take with old Yousef Bashaw, of the Caramanly dynasty, could not now be, in these days of Ottoman politeness, at all tolerated. For a long series of years, and especially during the French war, the Colonel was the virtual Bashaw of Tripoli. I shall only give another of a thousand incidents in which the British Consul showed himself the master, and the Bashaw the slave, instead of the Sovereign of his own country. One day the Bashaw had done something to offend the Consul. Colonel Warrington, hearing of it whilst riding out, immediately rides off to the Castle, and rushes, whip in hand, into the presence of the Bashaw, producing consternation through the whole Court. An Italian, having at the time an audience with His Highness, demanded, "_Che cosa vuole Signore Consule?_" seeing the Consul frustrated in his rage for want of an interpreter. "_Tell him_ (the Bashaw) _he's a rascal!_" roared the Consul, almost shaking his whip over the head of His Highness. But the Italian was just as far off, not knowing English, and fortunately could not interpret this elegant compliment. The very next day, the Consul and the Bashaw dined together at the British Garden, the Colonel slapping the old gentleman over his shoulder, and drinking wine with him, like two jolly chums. In this way, Colonel Warrington managed to be, what he was called in Malta, "_Bashaw of Tripoli_." Now that Colonel Warrington, during the time these pages have been going through the press, has left us for another and a better world, we may for a moment compare his Consular system with that which was pursued by the late Mr. Hay, Consul-General of Morocco. The difference is striking, if not remarkable. Colonel Warrington boasted of being able to do anything and everything in Tripoli; Mr. Hay boasted of being able to do nothing in Morocco. The former had the Bashaw under his thumb, or hooked by the nose; the latter stood at an awful distance from the Shereefian Presence. Colonel Warrington underrated the difficulties and dangers of travelling in Tripoli and Central Africa, making the route from Tripoli to Bornou as safe as the road from London to Paris; Mr. Hay, exaggerating every obstacle, represented it as unsafe to walk in the environs of Tangier, under its very walls, and even boasted of himself being shot at in the interior of Morocco, on a Government mission, and whilst attended by an escort of the Emperor's troops. With Colonel Warrington, a mission of science or philanthropy had a real chance of success; with Mr.