"I will, sir, I will," said Mr. Slocomb, in much apparent confusion of mind; "but it wouldn't look well to turn away a customer; it's not what we are accustomed to do: but, since you say it, sir,———— "Why, you wouldn't for a moment place the happiness of your child," said the mehmandar, "in competition with a trifle of gain? Besides, of what possible profit can the purchases of such a miserable fellow as this pennyless Persian barber be to you?" us. Profit, sir!" exclaimed the hair-cutter, "why, he has done nothing else but get articles from us every day he comes. There is not a day that he does not get either soap, or perfumes, or combs ; and I can assure you, sir, that he has run up no trifle of a bill with He sometimes takes a liking to one thing and sometimes to another; and so day by day he has got ever so many things, for which we have never got anything yet but an orange or a piece of sugarcandy: he one day brought us a live lamb, to our astonishment, and called it pickkiss,* but I did not see it was a bit better than any common lamb." "Is it so indeed?" exclaimed the mehmandar; "then I am afraid that you will never hear more of your perfumery and combs. I am afraid he has come the Persian over you." "Not get paid for my articles!" said Mr. Slocomb; "why, surely his master will be obliged to pay; they can't be such rogues as all that, not to pay for what they have had." "Well, well," said the mehmandar, "I will make some inquiries, and endeavour to see justice done you. Send me a bill of what they have had, and I will see about it." "Thank you, sir," said the perfumer, so bewildered that he scarcely knew what he was about; "thank you : then you think that I had best not allow him to see my daughter? You don't perhaps think him a respectable man in his own country?" "Respectable or not respectable," said the mehmandar, "you surely would not willingly be the cause of making a Mussulman of your daughter, who, I hope, is a good Christian." "Make a Mussulman of my daughter," inquired the perfumer, laying a stress upon the last syllable; "how can I ever do that?" "You don't understand me. If she becomes a Persian's wife, she must change her religion, and adopt his; she must believe in Mahomed; you would not wish her to do that." "No, sir, no," said Mr. Slocomb, "I should not wish that exactly; but it would be a pity after all to lose a good husband for want of a little belief." "Then, if you place her once in a Persian harem," continued the mehmandar, "you shut her up from the world for ever, and you never know what can happen to her. Her husband may beat, poison her, put her into a sack and drown her, and no one be the wiser for that. You surely would not subject her to such tyranny?" "No, sir, I don't think that fair;-I'm all for liberty, and I don't see why our Nancy should not have hers as well as any true-born Englishwoman. No, sir, I won't allow it. I'll do what you advise me, provided Mrs. Slocomb agrees." Then, wishing the mehmandar a good morning, he took his leave. The mehmandar lost no time in sending for Feridun,-for that was the name of the Persian ambassador's dalak, or barber,—that is, who performed the offices of the hot-baths, trimmed his beard, shaved his * Peishkesh, an offering. head, and dyed his hands, feet, or hair, as such operations became necessary. He was a short, thick-set, animated little fellow, with a lively expression of eye, and cunning painted in every feature. The colloquy that took place was as follows: "Selam alek! (Peace be with you !)" said the mehmandar. "Alekem selam! (Peace be unto you!)" answered the Persian. “Bismillah! (In the name of Allah!) be seated," said the meh mandar. "May your shadow never be less!" answered Feridun. "I want to know," said the mehmandar, "whether you are acquainted with a Frank of the name of Slocomb?" "So-lo-com? Yes," said the Persian, "I know him; he is a barber like myself." "Is there anything between you?" said the mehmandar, winking his right eye," any business, any taking and giving?" "There is nothing," said Feridun, with a most unmoved countenance. "He is my acquaintance,-my friend." "Nothing?" said the mehmandar, "no daughter? no love-play? no nothing?" "What daughter? what love-play? what nothing?" said the other. "The little man has got a weak one of a daughter, a poor creature, a thing of nothing, who sits in a corner and has no words. I have no business with her. I have no knowledge of her." "Man!" said the mehmandar, taking up a sterner tone, "by the soul of the ambassador, speak truth! we have heard things." By your soul! by the salt of the ambassador! by the tomb of the Prophet! by the name of the Shah!" exclaimed Feridun in a breath, "there is nothing. Solocom is not counted amongst men. He has got one worn-out daughter, without face or countenance, who is nothing. What do you want more? He is a barber, and I am a barber; what is there new in that?” "This is no child's play! this country is not Persia!" said the mehmandar; "these are English people; their laws are strange laws, and their manners odd manners. The man came here this morning, and asked a great many things. These people are devils in their own right. If you make play with one of their daughters, and then leave her in the lurch, they will divide your head into two bits, they will make your soul fly out of your body." "What have I done?" exclaimed the barber, beginning to look alarmed. "I have done nothing, by your own soul, and by that of your father and mother! A man may look at a woman in this country of infidels; there is no harm in that: my eyes are like any other man's eyes." "What! has there been no love-play?" said the mehmandar. “The man, Slocomb, has been swearing to me that you go to his house daily, that all the world knows that your heart is all day kissing his daughter's feet, and that he talks of marriage, and that the moment will soon come when you must send the marriage peishkesh, or present." "It is a lie from beginning to end !" said Feridun. "I have no word to give to his daughter. I go to his shop because he is a barber like me; and I see soap, razors, and towels, and I try to talk his language." "What! have there been no presents?" said the mehmandar. “Have you not sent a lamb and sweetmeats ?" "What presents, let me ask? The man does nothing but give me things, and shall I not give him things in return? It is not for the honour of Persia, and of my ambassador, that I should refrain ; so I have sent him a miserable lamb, and some melancholy sugarcandy. To this there is nothing to say." "Did he give you things? Slocomb says he sold them to you. Giving presents is not the custom of this country; do you know what a bill means?" May the grave of bill's father be defiled!" said Feridun. "Wherever I go there is always bill. The man does not know how to live; he first gives me things, and then wants me to pay for them. May the men of such a country have their fathers and mothers grilling in Jehanum !" "In fine," said the mehmandar, "let me give you one piece of advice. You are a man of understanding,-one word is better than two. Go no more to Mr. Slocomb; never see his daughter again. You know the ambassador, and you also know me. What use is there for saying more? May Khoda take you under his protection!" Upon which the mehmandar dismissed him. The barber took his leave, and went his way, muttering within his lips, "I'll burn his father, infidel that he is! May his house be ruined! We are Persians; in fine, why should we eat the dirt of these infidels ?" Days passed on, and no more was heard of Mr. Slocomb, his daughter, or of Feridun, until one morning, on going to see the ambassador, the mehmandar found him standing in his dining-room, surrounded by a posse of men and women, and the house in a great state of commotion. The first person he discovered was Mr. Slocomb, standing between his wife and daughter, flourishing a long slip of paper; a fat lawyer-looking man, with a blue bag under his arm, had taken up a position in front: Feridun was standing forward also, whilst the interpreter was making explanations to the ambassador, who looked angry and astonished. As soon as the mehmandar appeared, his excellency turned toward him, and cried out, "Biah, biah, (come, come,) here is a strange to-do ! wonderful ashes have fallen upon my head! these men with ruined houses have entirely killed me; I am dead!" "What news?" said the mehmandar. "This burnt father," pointing to Feridun, said the ambassador, "has been going about this city of London, marrying one girl after another, and here they all come to take him to prison." "So, is it!" said the mehmandar. Upon his appearance everybody simultaneously appealed to him, and the confusion of tongues which ensued may better be imagined than described. The lawyer put in his word with an official, though servile accent. Slocomb was inclined to be vociferous; his sharplooking spouse threw out a shrill voice in most acidulated accents; the fair Nancy looked pale and lachrymose; Feridun swore by every object sacred to Persians; whilst the ambassador, backed by his numerous suite, all talked to each other, bewailing their unfortunate fates at being so beset by infidels. 66 'Sir," said the lawyer, "we sue for a breach of promise of mar riage." "Look at this bill," exclaimed Slocomb, "and tell me if this looks like giving? Who ever gave away a dozen and a half of washballs, and six pounds of Windsor soap?" Calling himself a gentleman, and a prince too," squeaked out Mrs. Slocomb, "all to get our Nancy from us! It's a crying shame!" 'Hush, mother!" cried Nancy; "for Heaven's sake, hush!" "Wullah! Billah! (by Allah!) they all tell lies!" exclaimed Feridun, extending his hands to his master. "I have done nothing! Why do you treat me thus in this foreign land? Why did you bring us here to be reviled by these Franks ?" "Do you speak thus to me, dog?" exclaimed the ambassador, every hair in his beard distended, and growing livid with rage. "Strike him on the mouth, sujehim!" he cried with a loud voice to his men, who rushed forward, and, taking hold of him, pinioned his arms behind his back, whilst one, pulling off his shoe, advanced, and inflicted several blows on his mouth with the iron heel thereof. Upon seeing this, the mehmandar also rushed forward towards the ambassador, and exclaimed, "Pardon! pardon! he is ignorant of our customs. Let him off, and we will arrange the whole business. This threat is pooch,—is stuff and nonsense." It was long, however, before any one could gain a hearing. The lawyer, the perfumer, his wife and daughter, had not arrived prepared to witness a Persian tumult, and truly it had never before been their fate to witness the outbreak of passion in so dreadful a shape. They all seemed to shrink back within themselves, and keep aloof from the barbarians, afraid lest they too might stand a chance of losing their front teeth. As soon as the mehmandar had in some measure calmed the ambassador, which he did by persuading him to call for his kalian, (or pipe,)—a common custom after an explosion of rage,—and, having seen him bend his steps to the drawing-room, he then accosted Mr. Slocomb, saying, "How is this, sir? Did not you assure me the last time we met that you would never allow Feridun to enter your doors again, and that you would send me your bill for all the articles you had delivered to him?" "Hi did, sir," said the perfumer, "and so hi would; but my wife, she wouldn't hear of it, for she said that one man is as good as another, and she didn't see why she was to be done out of a husband for her daughter, although he was a Persian, and wore a beard." "Hold your tongue!" exclaimed the wife to her husband in an accent more cutting than the east wind, "don't make yourself an ass! I've a right to do with my daughter what I likes! it's nobody's business but mine; but it does not follow that every rascal that comes has a right to do the same. If that fellow there, has made a promise of marriage to my daughter, and refuses to keep it, let him pay for it ;-that 's the law, isn't it, Mr. Sniggs?" "It can't be denied," replied the obsequious Sniggs. "Let me inquire, ma'am," said the mehmandar, "how that promise was made? Your daughter must be well advanced in the knowledge of the Persian language, or her lover in that of English, to be able so soon to make themselves understood upon so delicate a subject." Oh, that's easily done!" answered Mrs. Slocomb, with a most taunting and contemptuous toss of her head. "I promise you, that's soon done! The dumb, I warrant you, would understand each other on that head, let alone a Persian, and a nice girl, like our Nancy." "But, I ask, what did he say when he proposed ?" urged the mehmandar. "La, sir!" said Slocomb, "we are caught there!" "Hold your tongue, fool!" sharply exclaimed Mrs. S. " "you know nothing about it. He said, 'Belly, belly!" which I know means 'yes' in their language, whatever it may mean in ours." "O ho!" said the mehmandar, "then it was your daughter who proposed, and he said 'yes;' that alters the case very much." Upon which the lawyer stepped forward to prevent Mrs. Slocomb from saying any thing further, endeavouring to throw the whole case into an official form favourable to his clients; but he only succeeded in raising a second storm, in which mother, daughter, and father took the principal part, and which ended in the usual violent floods of tears, with the allowed portion of hysterics. It will not be necessary further to increase our narrative of this event than to say, that, by the mehmandar's timely interference, he succeeded in screening the ambassador from the designs of the intriguing attorney,-who had put the perfumer up to this scheme,in securing to Feridun his freedom and protection from blows, and in satisfying Mr. Slocomb's demands upon the inroads that had been made upon his property. STANZAS ON CONTEMPLATING THE HEAVENS AT MIDNIGHT. BY MRS. CORNWELL BARON WILSON. TELL me, ye brightly-burning orbs of night, If to your realms the SPIRIT takes its flight When it throws off its mortal covering here?— Does it take wing and to the skies aspire, And breathe forth songs in heaven to some melodious lyre? Tell me, fair Moon, that sail'st in æther's space, Art thou some world, peopled with creatures free, Where sunder'd spirits shall meet face to face, Shall we there know, ev'n as on earth we 're known, Tell me, ye clouds, that o'er the azure heaven Float like the streamers of some bridal vest, Some peaceful bourn to which the spirit flies Ye cannot answer! and it is not meet Such mysteries should be solv'd us. Why should man, Attempt to penetrate what angels scan With heavenly eyes but dimly?-let him bend," Adoring what nor sense nor sight can comprehend! |