time amid the gloomy solitudes of the Lime Mountain, reduced to the necessity of supporting himself on the wild roots which he dug up from beneath the snow. The first months of winter were passed thus without the hunter's experiencing any other sensation than that of a deep melancholy. During the short days of this gloomy season he dragged himself, panting and exhausted, along the icy pathways of the mountain, vainly seeking to quit the desolate places. During the long nights, rendered dismal by the howling of wild beasts, he slept uneasily, holding his sword in one hand, and in the other his arrows, which, deprived of his bow, he could now use only as javelins, but since he had made the compact with the Spirit of the Mountain, the animals, his subjects, no longer felt animosity against Moudouri. On the self-same day when the sun, halting in its backward march, decided to come back, bringing warmth and joy to the countries that sighed for his return, Moudouri, after much difficulty quitted the last spur of the Lime Mountain, and entered the province of Ghirin. months. This rugged region, which separates the province of Moukden from that of Sahhalian-oula, is not of a nature to gladden the eyes. But from this time, however, Moudouri began to shake off the torpor under whose depressing influence he had suffered so many "Behold!" he cried, patting his horse's neck, "here I am again among my fellow creatures. The time has now arrived to learn whether I have been the dupe of an illusion, or if I really possess a talisman which will give me happiness. Happiness! I had it, and I have lost it. But why vex myself with vain murmurings and regrets? The sages have left us this proverb-"The words a man whispers to himself sound in heaven like thunder.' Moudouri made these reflections, he perceived, at a distance, a long caravan of wagons, camels, and horsemen, which slowly travelled along the high road. Whipping his horse, he went and posted himself upon an eminence, so as to be able to examine the imposing procession more nearly. While "Who is that?" he inquired of a Tartar horseman who led the way. "It is the new governor of Ghirin, proceeding to the capital of his province," replied the horseman. Moudouri opened his eyes widely: he had never before seen anything like this. The governor, clothed in rich silk stuffs, lined with furs, was seated in a litter borne by Chinese servants. Huge Mongolian camels bent under the weight of his baggage, contained in a hundred boxes of all shapes and sizes. The wives of the governor, with their servants, rode in carriages; the former were clad in robes made of the skins of the sable, the latter in brilliantly coloured tunics. Tartar horsemen galloped at the head of the procession, others brought up the rear. They were armed from head to foot, with quivers full of arrows at their backs, and curved sabres at their sides; and on their heads they bore pointed helmets adorned with red plumes. "Ah!" thought Moudouri, "I wish I was governor of the province," hoping that the talisman would act, and that his wish would be granted. While expressing this wish the caravan passed by. At first he gazed after it wistfully, then he followed in its track. A bend in the road concealing it from his sight, he stopped, vexed; it seemed to him that the Spirit of the Mountain had not kept his promise. "If I ever formed an ardent wish it is that which I just expressed," murmured the hunter, "and yet I feel that the talisman remains as cold as marble." A noise of soldiers galloping behind him attracted his attention. It was a troop of Tartar horsemen, armed like the preceding, who escorted a small carriage furnished with iron bars, in which, lying partly on his side, feet and hands loaded with chains, was a man, pale as death, and clothed in rags. "Where have you brought this man from, and where are you taking him?" inquired Moudouri. "We are going to Tondon with the ex-governor of Ghirin, whom an edict of the emperor has declared deprived of his rank," replied the horsemen. "He has committed some great crime, I suppose ?" "Ah, yes! he has had the folly to speak the truth in a manifesto addressed to the Son of the Sun. The emperor, who is kind and merciful, has graciously spared his life." The horsemen pursued their journey without saying more, and the sad procession soon disappeared. "The Spirit of the Mountain was right," thought Moudouri. "In the heart of man are many rash desires, which Heaven, in its wisdom, refuses to gratify. Fie upon honours! Riches are sufficient for him who can do without the flattery of the multitude." Some days afterwards Moudouri encountered a caravan of Chinese merchants. They had stopped to rest themselves in a sheltered place, under some rocks which formed a grotto. They took a repast, while their horses, relieved of their bridles, ate a ration of barley. Moudouri drew near, and politely addressed them. "Are your lordships on your way to the capital ?" he inquired, iu a timid voice. "We are returning to Pekin," replied the merchants. "You have had a successful journey, I hope. Sold your goods at good prices ?" "The Oros of Kiatkha are partial to tea, and eager for our silks; they run after our goods like fish after a bait. So we are returning to Pekin, our wagons loaded with all the valuable articles we have obtained in exchange for the productions of our own country. The wagons will soon be here; we shall wait for them." "Oh! If I was only a merchant," thought Moudouri; "gaining large sums of money like these Chinese, I would return and esta blish myself in the plain of Omokho, and raise large flocks of sheep. With gold one may obtain everything-even the respect of the people." Did the talisman become warm as these desires stirred the heart of Moudouri? He imagined it did, so much was he excited by the love of gold, which he had never coveted before. He blushed to think that he was only a poor hunter, in the presence of these great Chinese, who had amassed so much wealth. These latter dined sumptuously; they poured out brandy from their leathern bottles, which they drank in small quantities at a time, it is true, but so frequently that at last their tongues became thick, their eyelids heavy, and, overcome by drowsiness, they rolled on the ground like swine, and snored. But their sleep did not last long; a horseman rode up in breathless haste and roused them with much difficulty, so stupified were they with drink, and heedless of danger. "Arise and fly!" shouted the horseman; "fly for your lives! Robbers have pillaged your goods and burned your wagons, they will soon be here to rob you of your clothes. Fly, quick!" Huge columns of smoke, rising in the distance, confirmed the truth of what the horseman said. Riding up a distant hill they could perceive also the robbers coming in pursuit of them. The merchants, now quite awakened by terror, needed not to be told twice. Half stupified by drink and broken slumber, they scrambled into their saddles and took to flight, uttering loud cries of distress. "Riches, then, have their dangers as well as their splendours," said Moudouri, hurrying away. "If evil so closely attends good in all the things of life, I no longer know what to wish for. This talisman is only a bitter mockery. Assuredly the Spirit of the Mountain has made a dupe of me." Moudouri fell into his bad humour again, and mistrust took possession of his mind; everything he looked upon seemed to conceal a snare. He called to mind the proverb, "Man sees the gain but not the risk; the fish sees the bait but not the hook." By meditating upon this adage he fell into a state of perfect indifference; all energy left his mind, so that at last he had no inclination to wish or to hope for anything. In this sad state of mind Moudouri took the road to his native land, avoiding every one in his path, possessed with the idea that death is concealed under life, grief under joy, and ruin under prosperity. He was overcome with pity at seeing a labourer tilling his fields, for the storm might destroy the harvest in an instant: he was moved with compassion at the sight of a young mother smiling confidently upon her new-born babe, which a sudden illness might tear from her arms. The only kind of life which it seemed to him rational to adopt, was to become a Lama, and wait cross-legged, in silent meditation, the parting of his soul from his body. Little by little he allowed himself to be seduced by this prospect of an inert existence, exempt from desire or passion. Shutting his ears to outward sounds, his heart to all emotions, his mind to all aspirations, good or bad, vain or generous; such was the end to which he gradually tended. To arrive at it, he had no need of having recourse to his talisman : he no longer thought of it, and he continued on his way, contem. plating wearily the monotonous plains and the grey clouds which obscured the azure sky. The warm breezes of spring, which began to revive nature around him, fanned his brow without warming his torpid soul. His impetuous instincts, which formerly led him to plunge head foremost into an adventurous and perilous existence, gave place to passive indifference. He thought himself much wiser now, but he had only changed his egotism. When the plain of Omokho, freed from its winter covering of snow, and already showing some patches of green, presented itself to his view, Moudouri halted at the border of a little brook to allow his horse to drink. After drinking a little water from the hollow of his hand, he seated himself in the attitude of a Lama, and endeavoured to become absorbed in deep meditation. A dove, which had just arrived on the wings of spring, alighted near him, and uttered its usual cry, coo-coo. In spite of himself Moudouri opened his eyes; the voice of the bird had disturbed his sublime reverie. He moved away some distance: but in the rustling of the young leaves, the murmur of the brook over the stones, and in the mildness of the breeze, so impressive and melancholy, there was something which operated upon Moudouri, and invited him to expand his heart like all nature. Rising up, he walked on, leading his horse by the bridle. A little shaken in his resolutions, he asked himself if he was not still too young to become dead to everything. This thought plunged him into fresh perplexity; he began to regret that he was not like most other men, who accept their lot in life and keep to it; struggling with adversity; at times conquered, at others conquerors; confident and resigned. By placing the fatal talisman round his neck the Spirit of the Mountain had made him master of his own fate, and he did not know what to choose. As he continued on his way, irresolute and discouraged, his horse, which he held by the bridle, suddenly pricked up his ears and stopped. Moudouri, looking about him, saw behind a bush a young girl sobbing and weeping. It was Melia. "What is the matter, Melia ?" inquired Moudouri. "Oh! such a misfortune," she replied. "The "Ah! life is full of peril and misfortune," said Moudouri. best thing to do is to give it up, and die as soon as possible." "It is very certain that I must soon die," replied the maiden, "for I have nothing to eat. The wolves have carried off two of the flock of goats I had the care of, and my master has turned me out of doors." "Poor Melia," cried Mondouri; "you are turned out of doors for a fault of which you are as innocent as a new-born babe. What will become of you?" "I must starve, or throw myself into the river!" "Poor Melia," cried Moudouri again, looking into Melia's face, which was bathed with tears. "Is there no one who takes an interest in you?" "You know I am an orphan," replied Melia, sorrowfully. "I really pity you," said Moudouri. "If I could but save you! Rise up, and come with me. If I do nothing more for the rest of my life I will at least make an effort to prevent your dying in misery." The young maiden followed Moudouri mechanically, scarcely knowing what she did. Grief had deprived her of all energy-of all her natural vivacity. When they had proceeded along together a few minutes Moudouri felt that his talisman had become quite warm. "This is very singular,” he said to himself, "I have not formed any wish. I have no other desire than to render a service to a poor, destitute girl." Turning his head to look at Melia, who walked a few paces behind him, he for the first time noticed that she had a very graceful form, with regular features, and an amiable expression, and that she was just budding into womanhood. She followed Moudouri resignedly, and also with a secret confidence. "Hark, ye, Melia," said Moudouri, after a long silence, "I possess a piece of land which I have neglected to cultivate in order to give myself up to the pleasures of the chase, and in one corner of the field is a nice little cottage." "Yes, I know it," replied Melia; "it is not very large, but the soil is fertile." "My father made a good living off it; he was a very clever farmer. (It is strange how this talisman burns my breast.) One might live very comfortably there by adding a flock of goats which would pick up their living among the rocks. Do you hear what I say, Melia ?" "I hear every word," replied Melia, in a voice almost choked by emotion. She stopped, unable to proceed a step further. "You look tired," said Moudouri; "come here, and I will lift you up on to my horse. He is a little skittish, but I have a good hold of the bridle. How would you like to go and live in my little cottage?" he asked, after he had seated her in front of him on the horse. "Live in your cottage?" replied Melia, blushing. "I could only go there as a servant, and you have got no wife." No, no," said Moudouri, "I don't wish you to be my servant. Do you understand me?" The language of Moudouri was not so enigmatic but that the young maiden could understand it. Besides, there was a tone of sincerity and affectionate kindness in the hunter's voice that clearly interpreted his thoughts. Melia, who a few moments previously was crazed with grief was now almost wild with joy. Making a sudden movement to raise her clasped hands to heaven, she lost her balance. Finding herself about to fall from the horse, she screamed, and fell into Moudouri's arms, which he, in good time, extended to catch her. At the same moment he placed his hand on his breast to feel for the talisman, but it had vanished! Moudouri was greatly troubled, and turned pale. Unite his lot with that of a poor orphan who had not a friend in the world! was that all he could obtain with that precious talisman? For some minutes he rode on with his head cast down, a little confused, and a prey to vexation. "Moudouri," said Melia, a little recovered from her first emotion, "let me throw myself at your feet and kiss your hands, for you have made me the happiest girl in all the plain of Omokho." These words made the hunter tremble. "There are," he said to himself, "two kinds of happiness. One, which we obtain at another's expense, the other which we obtain by doing good." He felt himself not only consoled but also fully satisfied with the resolution he had taken. He no longer felt the impetuous impulses of his early manhood-the barren pleasures of solitude, the wild joys of a hunter's life, but he heard the voice of conscience whisper in his ear, that he had made a good use of the talisman received from the Spirit of the Mountain. MARY'S GRAVE. THE summer winds sing lullaby A little while the beauteous gem And we laid on her gentle frame the sod, The birds she loved so well to hear And her memory lives in the silent tear THE DEATH OF ADAM. A PARABLE. ADAM was nine hundred and thirty years old when he felt in himself the fiat of the judge-"Thou shalt die." "Let all my sons come before me," said he to weeping Eve, "that I may yet see and bless them." They all came at their father's command, and stood before him, many hundred in number, and they prayed for his life. "Which of you," spake Adam, "will go to the Holy Mountain, that he may find pity for me, and bring me the fruit of the tree of life?" Immediately all his sons offered themselves; and Seth, the most pious, was chosen by his father for the errand He sprinkled his head with ashes, hastened and delayed not, until he stood before the gate of Paradise. "Let my father find pity, Merciful One," thus prayed he, "and send to him fruit from the tree of life!" Quickly the glittering Cherub stood there, and instead of the fruit of the tree of life, he held in his hand a twig of three leaves. "Carry it to thy father," so spake he kindly; "it will console him -for eternal life dwells not on the earth. But hasten, his hour is hand." at Swiftly Seth hastened, and threw himself down and said, "Alas! my father, I bring thee no fruit of the tree of life, this twig alone has the angel given me for thy last consolation." The dying man took the twig and was glad, for he smelled on it the fragrance of Paradise; then was his soul elevated: "My children," said he, "eternal life dwells not for us on the earth; you will follow me; but from these leaves I breathe the air of another and a happier world." Then his life failed, and his spirit fled. Adam's children buried their father, and wept for him thirty days long; but Seth wept not. He planted the twig upon his father's grave, at the head of the departed one, and named it the twig of a new life, of the awaking up out of the sleep of death. The little twig grew up into a high tree, and many of Adam's children strengthened themselves by it, in the hope of a better life. So it came to succeeding generations. It blossomed fair in the garden of David, until his infatuated son began to doubt of immortality; then the twig withered, though its blossoms came among other nations. And as on a stem from this tree the Restorer of Immortality gave up his holy life, the sweet fragrance of the new life scattered itself around far among all nations. THE PET LAMB. THE dew was falling fast, the stars began to blink; A snow-white mountain lamb, with a maiden at its side. The lamb, while from her hand he thus his supper took, Seemed to feast with head and ears; and his tail with pleasure shook; "Drink, pretty creature, drink," she said, in such a tone, 'Twas little Barbara Lethwaite, a child of beauty rare! · If nature to her tongue could measured numbers bring, Again, and once again, did I repeat the song: 66 Nay," said I, "more than half to the damsel must belong, For she looked with such a look, and she spoke with such a tone, That I almost received her heart into my own." WORDSWORTH. THE HISTORY OF NOURJAHAD. BY MRS. F. SHERIDAN. HUS possessed of everything his soul could wish, Nourjahad continued for the space of three moons, without any interruption, to wallow in voluptuousness: when one morning, as he was preparing to set out for a beautiful villa, which Hasem had recommended to him for his rural retirement, and which he purposed to buy if it answered his description, he was prevented by a messenger from the sultan. It was the same person who once before had been sent to him to forbid him the court. "I am sorry, my lord," said he, on entering Nourjahad's apartment," to be a second time the bearer of un welcome tidings; but Schemzeddin, hearing of the extraordinary grandeur and magnificence in which you live-a magnificence, indeed, equal to that of the sultan himself, would needs know whence you derive your wealth, which seems so much to surpass that of any of his subjects; and has commanded me to conduct you to his presence in order to give an account of it." Nourjahad was exceedingly startled at this unexpected summons; but it was in vain to dispute the sultan's orders, and he was forced, though with great reluctance, to accompany the officer to the palace of Schemzeddin. He entered it trembling, fearful to declare a falsehood to his sovereign, yet still more unwilling to confess the truth. In this suspense the officer left him, to acquaint the sultan of his arrival. He waited not long before he was admitted to the royal presence. "Whence is it, Nourjahad," said the sultan, "that thy impru dence hath drawn on thee the attention of my whole empire, insomuch that the representations made to me of thy pomp and luxury now renders it necessary to inquire into thy riches. They seem, indeed, to be immense. Who was that relation that bequeathed them to thee, and wherein do they consist ?" Though Nourjahad had endeavoured to prepare himself with proper answers to all those questions, which he naturally expected would be asked on the occasion, he was nevertheless confounded; he could not utter the lies he had framed with the unabashed look of sincerity; his speech faltered and his colour changed. Schem zeddin saw his confusion. "I perceive," said he, "there is some mystery in this affair, which thou hast no mind to discover; I pray heaven that thou hast used no sinister means to come at the great wealth which I am told thou possessest! Confess the truth, and beware of prevaricating with thy prince." Nourjahad, frightened at the difficulties he found himself involved in, fell at the sultan's feet. "If my lord," said he, will give me a patient hearing, and forgive the presumption of his servant, I will unfold such wonders as will amaze him, and at the same time utter nothing but the strictest truth." The sultan turned coldly towards him; but, by seeming to attend to his explanation, encouraged him to proceed. the He then gave a faithful relation of the vision he had seen, with all consequences of that miraculous event. Schemzeddin suffered him to conclude his narration without interruption; but, instead of showing any marks of surprise, or appearing to credit what he said, looking at him with the utmost indignation, "Audacious wretch," cried he, "how darest thou presume thus to abuse my patience, and offend my understanding with the relation of so ridiculous a forgery? Go, tell thy incredible tales to fools and children, but dare not to insult thy sovereign with such outrageous falsehoods." Though Nourjahad was terrified at the sultan's anger, he nevertheless persisted in his declaration, confirming all he had said by the most solemn oaths. The sultan commanded him to be silent. "Thou art mad," said he; "I perceive now that the riches thou hast acquired, let the means be what they may, have turned thy brain; and I am now more than ever convinced of the sordidness of thy mind, when the unexpected acquisition of a little wealth could thus pervert thy judgment, and teach thee to impose on thy master for truth the monstrous chimæras of thy wild fancy. The folly be on thy head; for a little, a very little time must, with the unbounded extravagance of which thou art guilty, dissipate what thy friend hath left thee; and when thou art again reduced to thy former state, thou wilt be glad to sue to my bounty for that which thou didst lately with so much arrogance reject. Go, unhappy Nourjahad," continued he (his voice a little softened), "the remembrance of what thou once wert to me will not permit me to see thee fall a victim to thy own desperate folly. Should it be publicly known that thou hast thus endeavoured by lies and profanation to abuse the credulity of thy prince, thou wouldst find that thy boasted immortality would not be proof against that death which he should think himself obliged, in justice to his own honour and dignity, to inflict on so bold an impostor. Hence, miserable man," pursued he, retire to thy house; and if thou art not quite abandoned, endea vour by a sober and regular conduct to expiate thy offences against heaven and thy sovereign; but, as a punishment for thy crime, presume not, without my leave, to stir beyond the limits of thy own habitation, on pain of a more rigorous and lasting confinement." Nourjahad, thunder-struck at this unexpected sentence, was unable to reply; and the sultan, having ordered the captain of his guards to be called, committed his prisoner to his hands, telling him, if he suffered Nourjahad to escape, his head should answer it. Filled with resentment and discontent, Nourjahad was conducted back to his own house; at all avenues of which he had the mortification to see guards posted, agreeably to the charge given by the sultan. He retired pensively to his closet, where, shutting himself up, he "་།་ C now for the first time repented of his indiscretion in the choice he had made. "Unfortunate that I am," cried he, "what will riches or length of days avail me, if I am thus to be miserably immured within the walls of my own dwelling? Would it not have been better for me to have requested the genius to restore me to the favour of my prince? Schemzeddin always loved me, and would not fail to have promoted me to wealth and honours; meanwhile I should have enjoyed my liberty, which now, methinks, as I am debarred of it, appears to me a greater blessing than any I possess. Unhappy Nourjahad, what is become of all thy schemes of felicity!" He was even weak enough to shed tears and gave himself up to vexation for the remainder of the day. His mind, however, was by pleasure rendered too volatile to suffer anything to make a lasting impression on him; and he had still too many resources of happiness in his power to give himself up to despair. "It is true," said he "I am debarred of my liberty, but have I not still a thousand delights in my possession? The incredulous sultan, satisfied with punishing me, will give himself no further concern about me provided I do not attempt to escape; and thus withdrawn from the public eye, envy will not penetrate into the recesses of a private dwelling. I will secure the fidelity of my servants by my liberality towards them. Schemzeddin's resentment will not last; or if it should, even as long as he lives, what is his life, the scanty portion of years allotted to common men, to my promised immortality ?" Having thus reconciled his thoughts to his present situation, he resolved, in order to make himself amends for the restraint on his person, to indulge himself with an unbounded freedom in his most voluptuous wishes. He commanded a banquet to be prepared for him that night, which exceeded in luxury and profusion any of the preceding. He ordered all his women, of which he had a great number, adorned with jewels and dressed in their richest habits, to attend on him whilst he was at supper, permitting none but Mandana the favour of sitting down with him. The magnificence of his apartments was heightened by a splendid illumination of a thousand torches, composed of odoriferous gums, which cast a blaze of light that vicd with the glories of the sun. His musicians, both vocal and instrumental, were ordered to exert the utmost stretch of their art, and to soothe his mind with all the enchanting powers of harmony. Himself attired in robes such as the kings of Persia were used to wear, was seated under a canopy of silver tissue, which he had put up for the purpose; and assuming the pomp of an Eastern monarch, suffered the illusion to take such possession of his mind, that if he were not before mad, he now seemed to be very near distraction. Intoxicated with pleasure, the historian who writes his life affirms that this night Nourjahad for the first time got drunk. Be that as it may, it is certain that having retired to rest, he slept sounder and longer than usual; for on his awaking, and missing Mandana from his side, whom he had made the partner of his bed, he called to the slave who always attended in his antechamber, in order to inquire for her, resolving to chide her tenderly for leaving him. He called loud and often; but nobody answering him, as he was naturally choleric, he jumped out of bed, and stepping hastily into the outer chamber, he found that none of his slaves were in waiting. Enraged at this neglect, he called several of his domestics by their names, one after another; when at length, after he was almost out of breath with passion, a female slave appeared, who was one of those appointed to wait on Mandana. The damsel no sooner perceived him, than giving a loud shriek, she was about to run away; when Nourjahad provoked at her behaviour, catching her roughly by the arm, "Where is thy mistress," said he, "and whence arises that terror and amazement in thy countenance ?" "Alas! my lord," answered the slave, " pardon my surprise, which is occasioned by my seeing you so unexpectedly' Nourjahad now perceiving that in his hurry he had forgot to put on his clothes, concluded that it was the circumstance which had alarmed the damsel; and turning from her, "Foolish woman," said he, " go tell Mandana that I desire to see her." "Ah! my lord," replied the maid, "I would she were in a condition to come to you." "Why, what is the matter," said Nourjahad, “no ill, I hope, has befallen the dear light of my life? Is she sick? Methinks she went to bed last night in perfect health. "Last night! my lord," replied the slave, and shook her head. "Trifler," cried Nourjahad, "what means that motion? Where is thy mistress? Speak!" "She is, I hope," said the slave, " gone to receive the reward of her goodness!" Here she began to weep. "Oh, Heaven!" cried Nourjahad, " is my dear Mandana dead ?" "She is," answered the damsel, redoubling her tears, "and I shall never have so kind a mistress." "Alas!" replied Nourjahad, "by what fatal accident am I thus suddenly deprived of the adorable creature ?" "It was not suddenly, my lord," replied the slave, "Mandana died in childbed," "Ah, traitress," cried Nourjahad," how darest thou thus mock the sorrow of thy master, and traduce the chastity of my beloved. Thou knowest it is not more than three moons since I received her a virgin into my arms, and dost thou presume to impose so ridiculous a story on me as that of her having died in childbed ?" "My lord," answered the slave, "it is more than three years since Mandana died." "Audacious wretch !" cried Nourjahad, "wouldst thou persuade me out of my senses ?" With this he pinched the slave so hard by the arm that she screamed out. The noise she made brought several of the servants into the room, who, on seeing Nourjahad, all showed manifest tokens of fear and surprise. "What is the reason of all this," cried he in a rage, แ are ye all leagued in a combination against me? Be quick and explain to me the cause of this distraction which appears amongst you." Hasem, who had run in along with the other domestics, took upon him to answer for the rest. "It is not to be wondered at, my lord," said he, "that your slaves seem surprised at seeing you thus as it were raised from the dead; but if they are amazed, their joy doubtless is equal to their wonder; mine I am sure is unutterable, to behold my lord once more restored to his faithful servants, after we had almost despaired of your ever more unclosing your eyes." "You talk strangely," said Nourjahad, a little staggered at what he saw and heard. He just then recollected the terms on which he had received the important gift from the genius; and began to suspect that he had endured one of those preternatural slumbers, to which he had subjected himself. "How long may I have slept ?" said he. "Four years and twenty days exactly," answered Hasem; "I have reason to know, for I counted the melancholy hours as they passed, and seldom quitted your bed-side." "It may be so," said Nourjahad, "I have been subject to these trances from a boy, but this has lasted rather longer than usual." He then commanded all his slaves to withdraw, retaining only Hasem, with whom he wanted to have some discourse. “Tell me now," said he (when they were alone), “and tell me truly, is all I have heard real, and is Mandana actually dead?" "Too true, my lord," replied Hasem, "Mandana died in childbed, and dying, left her infant son to my care." "Is my child alive?" said Nourjahad, eagerly. "He is, my lord," answered Hasem, "and you shall see him presently: Mandana called me to her," continued he, "when she found herself dying." "Hasem," said she, "be careful of your lord: Heaven will one day restore him to you again. See that you manage his household with the same prudence and regularity that you would if he himself were to inspect into your conduct: for be assured he will sooner or later exact a just account of your proceedings. Here are the keys of his coffers; I ventured to take them from under his pillow, where I knew he kept them. I have husbanded his fortune with economy, and have hitherto kept order and harmony in his family on you it rests to preserve it in the same condition. Nourjahad will not fail to reward your diligence and fidelity. It is not expedient that any one should know the condition to which he is reduced. His life is governed by a strange fatality. You have nothing to do, therefore, but to give out that he is seized with a lingering distemper, which confines him to his bed. Let no impertinent inquirers see him, and all curiosity about him will soon cease. These, proceeded Hasem, were almost the last words that my beloved mistress spoke. I have punctually complied with her orders. Your condition has been kept a profound secret from every one but your own family, and they all love you too well to betray your trust. Your women are all immured within the sacred walls of your seraglio; and though they murmur at their situation, they fail not to offer up their daily prayers that Heaven would restore you to them. I will now," continued he, "present your son to you; it will be some consolation to you to see that charming pledge of Mandana's love." Saying this, he withdrew, but soon returned, leading the child, who was as beautiful as a little cherub. Nourjahad melted into tears at the sight of him, and renewed his complaints for the loss of his adored Mandana. He saw that the child's age seemed to agree exactly with the account he had received; and now fully convinced of the truth of his misfortues, "Oh Heaven!" cried he, clasping the young boy to his bosom, "what would I give that my dear Mandana were now here to partake of the pleasure I feel in this infant's caresses; gladly would I consent to have three ages cut off from the number of my years, to have her more precious life restored. But my felicity would then be too great, and I must submit to the destiny which I myself have chosen. Prudent Hasem," said he, observing he looked surprised, "thou dost wonder at the words which thou hast heard me speak, but I will not conceal from thee the marvellous story of my life. Thy fidelity and zeal deserve this confidence; besides, it is requisite that I should trust some discreet person with my important secret, since Mandana, on whose tenderness and loyalty I could depend, is no more." Nourjahad then acquainted Hasem with the wonderful mystery of his life. He did not, however, divulge the circumstances of his concealed treasure; he judged from his own heart that it would not be altogether advisable to lay such a tempting bait in the way even of the most virtuous and steady mind; but contented himself with telling him that his genius constantly supplied him with riches, as his occasions required. Hasem listened to him with astonishment; but assured him, after what had already passed, he doubted not a tittle of the truth of what he had been told, amazing and almost incredible as it appeared. 66 My lord," said he, "you may securely rely on my zeal and diligence so long as you are pleased to entertain me in your service "That I shall do during your life," interrupted Nourjahad. "But," replied Hasem, "what if one of those unmerciful long trances should continue for a length of time, much beyond that from which you are but now awakened, and that I should happen to die before you recover your senses-who knows in that case what might be the consequences?" 44 It is an accident exceedingly to be dreaded," replied Nourjahad; "Heaven knows to what indignities I might be exposed, perhaps to be buried alive, and condemned to pass a century or two in a dismal sepulchre. The thought makes me shudder, and I almost repent of having accepted life on such conditions. As I have no warning," continued he, "when those fatal slumbers will overpower me (for who can always be guarded against the starts of passion, or what man is so attentive to that impertinent monitor within, as to hear his whispers amidst the hurry of tumultuous pleasures?)-as I know not, I say, when I am to be condemned to that state of insensibility, or how long I shall continne in it, I can only conjure thee if I should happen to be seized with another trance during thy life (which, considering my disposition, is not impossible), that thou wilt observe the same conduct which thou hast lately done; and if the angel of death should summon thee away before my senses are loosened from their mysterious bands, that thou wilt, with thy dying breath, commit the secret to some one faithful person of my family, whom thou thinkest most fit to be relied on, for a punctual discharge of their duty. As I shall never part with any of my servants till the inevitable stroke of death separates them from me, and shall constantly supply their places with the worthiest persons than can be found, I think I cannot fail of a succession of people from amongst whom one at least may always be found in whose secrecy and truth I may safely confide." "Without doubt, my lord," answered Hasem, "you may, by such wise measures as these, be always guarded against the worst that may befall you." other women. Though Nourjahad had, by thus providing against evil events, exceedingly relieved his mind from the fears by which it was agitated, lest any ill should happen to him during his slumbers; yet was his heart far from being at ease. The loss of Mandana preyed upon his spirits. He had no relish for the charms of his Mandana's superior loveliness was always present to the delicacies of his table grew tasteless; Mandana's sprightly wit was wanting to give a relish to the feast. The melodious concerts of music with which he was wont to be so delighted, now only served to overwhelm him with melancholy Mandana's enchanting voice was not heard, which used to swell his heart to rapture. his eyes; In short, for a time he tock pleasure in nothing but the caresses and innocent prattle of his little son, whom by his tenderness and endearments he had taught to love him. "I am unhappy, my dear Hasem," would he often say; "the loss of Mandana imbitters all my joys, and methinks I begin to look forward with disgust." "My lord," said Hasem, "there is nothing which has befallen you but what is common to all. Every one may naturally expect to see the death of some person or other whom they love; but you, who are endowed with so miraculous a life, must needs look to drop a tear over a thousand graves." 66 Melancholy reflection!" said Nourjahad; "it occurred not to me in this light when I made my choice. I knew, indeed, I must of necessity bury hundreds of succeeding generations; but, said I to myself, I shall insensibly contract new friendships, as I perceive the old ones are likely to be dissolved by the hand of time. My heart, said I, shall never feel a vacuity for want of fit objects of desire. A new beauty will naturally take place of her whose charms begin to decline; thus the ardours of love will be supplied with perpetual fuel; and upon the same principle will the social joys of friendship be unremitting. I considered the world as a flower-garden, the product of which was to delight my senses for a certain season. The bloom is not made to last, thought I; but it will be succeeded by a fresh blossom, whose sweetness and variety will equal the former, and entirely obliterate them from my memory. I thought not, alas! that before the spring ended, a cruel blast might suddenly destroy my fairest flower." "Would you, my lord," said Hasem, "if it were in your power, absolve your genius from his promise, seeing your life must be perpetually subject to such misfortunes ?" "Not so, neither," answered Nourjahad; "Time is a never-failing remedy for grief; I shall get over this, and be better prepared against the next assault of evil." In fact, Nourjahad kept his word, and soon returned to his former way of living. (To be continued.) AND when the Child had eaten his fill he sat down on the soft moss, crossed one little leg over the other, and began to gossip with the fire-flies; and, as he so often thought on his unknown parents, he asked them who were their parents. Then the one nearest to him answered, and he told how that they were formerly flowers, but none of those who thrust their rooty hands greedily into the ground and draw nourishment from the dingy earth, only to make themselves fat and large withal; but that the light was dearer to them than anything, even at night, and while the others slept they gazed unwearied on the light, and drank it in with eager adoration-sun, and moon, and starlight. And the light had so thoroughly purified them that they had not sucked in poisonous juices like the yellow flowers of the earth, but sweet odours for sick and fainting hearts, and oil of potent, ethereal virtue, for the weak and the wounded; and at length, when their autumn came, they did not, like the others, wither and sink down, leaf and flower, to be swallowed up by the darksome earth, but shook off their earthly garment, and mounted aloft into the clear air. But there it was so wondrously bright, that sight failed them; and, when they came to themselves again, they were fire-flies, each sitting on a withered flower-stalk. And now the Child liked the bright-eyed flies better than ever, and he talked a little longer with them, and inquired why they showed themselves no more in Spring. They did it, they said, in the hope that their golden green radiance might allure their cousins, the flowers, to the pure love of light. |