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the dead, whom the plague had visited, were seen epic as Homer, as plaintive as Job, as amorous as to sally forth, borne on biers, each by two naked Theocritus, as philosophical as Solomon. His verslaves, to the tombs scattered on all sides of us. ses, that lalled or excited the imagination of the Sometimes a long procession of Turks, Arabs, Ar- Arab as he inhaled the fumes of his narguile* menian Jews accompanied the departed and defiled were uttered in guttural tones amid the animated singing among the olive-trees; then returned with group of my Saids. When the poet touched more slow steps and sad silence to the city. Oftener justly or powerfully than usual the sensitive chord the dead were unaccompanied, and when the two of these wild, but impressible men, a light mormor slaves had dog some handsbreadths the sand or was heard from their lips, they clasped their hands earth of the hill and laid the plague-smitten on his together, elevated them above their ears, and, bendlast bed, they sate themselves down on the very ing down their heads, exclaimed by turns, Allah ! mound they had thrown up, parted between them Allah! Allah ! the vestments of the buried, and lighting their long
At some paces from me, a young Turkish woman pipes, smoked silently and watched the vapoor as
was weeping for her husband on one of those little it ascended in light blue columns and lost itself monuments of white stone, with which all the hills gracefully in the air, limpid, soft and transparent around Jerusalem are strewo. She appeared to in those fair days of autumn. At my feet, the val- be scarcely eighteen or twenty years of age, and ley of Jehosaphat stretched like a vast sepulchre ;
I never saw so ravishing an image of sorrow. the wasted Cedron furrowed its whitened channel. Her profile, whiclı her veil, thrown backward enathick strewn with large pebbles, and the sides of bled me to see, had that purity of outline which the two hills near its margins were all white with marks the finest heads of the Parthenon, but at tombs and sculptured'turbans, the public cemetery the same time the softness, the suavity and the of the Osmanlis. A little on the right the Mount gracious languor of the women of Asia—a beauty of Olives sank down among the widely spread much more feminine, more love-inspiring and chains of the volcanic cones of the naked moun- more enchanting to the soul than the severe and tains of Jericho and Saint Sabba, and showed the masculine beauty of the Grecian statues. Her horizon extending away in the distance, like a lu- light hair, bronzed and golden, like the metal of minous avenue between the tops of the irregular the antique busts—a color highly prized in this cypress trees.
The eye involuntarily wandered country of the sun, of which it seems to be a conthither, attracted by the blue, leaded lustre of the stant reflection—her hair, hanging loosely, fell Dead Sea, which glistened at the feet of these around her and literally swept the ground; her mountains, while in the back ground, the blue chain breasts, according to the custom of the women of of the mountains of Arabia Petrea bordered the hori- that portion of Arabia, were entirely uncovered, zon. But “ bordered” is not the word, for the moun- and, when she stooped to kiss the turbaned stone, tains seemed as transparent as crystal, and you saw, or to lay her ear on the tomb, they touched the or believed you saw beyond, a vague and indefinite earth and left their soft impress in the dust, like horizon stretching away still and swimming in the the mould
the beantiful bosom of buried Atala, ambient vapors of an atmosphere stained with pur- which the sand of the sepulchre still retained, as ple and lilac dyes.
described in the admirable epic of Chateaubriand. It was the hour of noon- —that time when the She had strewn the tomb and its adjacent earth Muezzin watches the sun on the topinost gallery of with all sorts of flowers; a fine damask cloth was the minaret and chants the hour and the prayer for spread upon her knees; on the cloth were some all hours. A living, an animated' voice, conscious cops of flowers and a basket full of figs and bar of what it says and sings; far superior, in my opin- ley-cakes, for that woman was about to spend the ion, to the stupid and unconscious tones of the bells whole day in thus lamenting. A hole, scooped in of our cathedrals. My Arabs had given barley in the earthr, and which was thought to correspond sacks of goat-leather skins to my horses tied here with the ear of the deceased, served as a speakand there around my tent. With their feet chained ing-tube to that other world, in which he, whom by iron rings, these beautiful and docile animals re- she had come to visit, peacefully reposed. She mained immovable-their heads weighed down and leaned from time to time towards this narrow orishadowed by their long, thick manes, their gray fice, singing certain words interrupted by soks, and skins shining and sinoking under the rays of a burn- then held down her ear as if she heard a resing sun.
These men were assembled under the ponse-after which she resumed her mourful shade of one of the largest olive-trees. They had strain. I endeavored to understand the words she spread upon the grass their damask cloth; and, as thus murmured in my hearing, but my Arab dragothey smoked, they narrated' to one anottier stories man could not seize or translate their meaning. of the desert, or sang the verses of Antar,-An- How sincere was my regret ? What secrets of tar, that type of the wandering Arab, at the same love and sorrow must her song have expressed! time a shepherd; a warrior and'a poet, who had described the whole desert in his national strains-as * A pipe passed through water on its way to the mouth
BY IDA FAYE.
What sighs of two souls torn for life from each Turkish widow weeping for her husband as she other must have been conveyed in those verses poured forth her melodious anguish, the elegiac and confused as they were and broken with sobs! Oh! passionate poetry, the poetry of the heart. The if anything could ever awaken the departed, it soldiers and Arab altendants reciting the chivalrous, must be such language murmured by such lips. amorous and marvellous verses of Aniar exhib.
About two steps from that woman, under a piece ited the epic and warlike poetry of a nomadic or of dark cloth, held up by two reeds fixed in the conquering people; the Greek monks chanting earth so that it served as a parasol, were her two their psalms upon their lonely terraces, the sacred little children with three black Abyssinian slaves, and lyric poetry of ages of enthusiasm and reliseated, like their mistress, upon a carpet spread gioos renovation. And I myself, musing under over the sand. These three women, all of whom my lent, and gathering true histories or thoughts were young and beautiful, with the easy forms and from the whole earth, showed the poetry of phiaquiline features of their country, were grouped losophy and contemplation, daughter of an epoch in various attitudes, like three statues carved out when humanity studied herself and revived even in of a single block. One of them was kneeling on the songs which which she made her pasture. one knee and held upon the other a child, who was Behold in these all the poetry of the past; but, stretching forth its arms towards its weeping mo- in the future, what will it be? ther; another had her limbs doubled under her,
[To be continued.] with her hands joined over her apron of blue cloth, like the Madaleine of Canova; the third was standing slightly bent towards her companions, and, balancing herself from right to left, she rocked upon her scarcely budded bosom the smaller of the children, whom she was vainly endeavoring to Jull to sleep. When the sobs of the young
IS THERE A GOD ?
widow reached the ears of the children, they began to weep, and the three black slaves, having echoed the sig hs of their mistress, commenced singing
I asked the mighty river, certain airs and infantine songs of their country
That rolled its waters dark, to quiet the children.
From the mountain to the ocean, It was Sunday. Two hundred paces from me, And bore the tossing bark; behind the thick and high walls of Jerusalem, I And the river with its swelling tone, heard, borne at intervals from the dark dome of In sounding voice replied, the Greek convent the distant and faint echoes
“God gave me strength through rugged banks
To pour my turbid tide!” of the vesper service. The hymns and psalms of David arose after three thousand years, uttered by strange voices and in a new language upon the I asked the stately trees, same hills, which had inspired them, and I obser- With summer verdure crowned; ved upon the terraces of the convent certain old
The oak with royal grandeur,
The pines with moaning sound; monks of the Holy Land going and coming, bre
And the arching pines made answer viary in hand, and murmuring those prayers, mur- With the tall oaks strong and old; mured already by so many ages in various langua- “God sent the cheering sun and shower ges and verses.
The leaflets to unfold.” And 1-1 was there also to sing of all these things; to study the ages in their cradle; to re
I asked the restless Ocean, trace even to its fountain the unknown course of
That moaned in its bed, civilization and religion, to inspire myself with the O'er rocks, and gems, and coral caves, spirit of the place and the concealed signification Where slumber seamen dead. of stories and monuments on those borders, which
And thus spoke out the Ocean, were the point of departure of the modern world,
Far on the rocky shore:
"God rests in sunshine on my waves, and to cherish a wisdom more real,-a philosophy
And in the tempest's roar !". more true,-the grave and thoughtful poetry of the advanced epoch in which we live.
This scene, passing by chance under my eyes I asked the birds ibat wing and preserved among my thousand reminiscences To beaven their joyous flight; of travel, presented to my mind the destinies and
And carol in unceasing praise, almost entire phases of all poetry. The three
Their songs of glad delight.
And they swelled their downy throats slaves, attendant upon the children, with their sim
To sweeter sounds of joy ; ple and thoughtless songs, represented the pasto- “God taught us how to build our nests, ral and instinctive poetry of the nations; the young Our praises to employ !"
I asked the clouds that floated,
excessively fat, his footman was excessively thin, Through the clear azure sky;
and the tails of his sixteen-hand bays swept their The moaning wind, and falling rain,
fellocks. Made me this quick reply; “'Twas He who taught the mist to wreathe
This well-fed gentleman, rosy with abundance, Itself in graceful sold ;
and full of the condescending suavity of a man Os soar in beauty to the sky,
who always vanquishes, was presently front to In gorgeous robes of gold."
front with the meagre and bloodless miser. Miles
Gregory received him with a wintry welcome ; And then I asked the rainbow,
and, but for Jenkin, the distinguished lawyer, fresh That lists its glorious form,
from the luxury of his sinking cushions, would That spans on high the watery cloud,
have been left without so much as the comfort of a And smiles upon the storm.
hard-bottomed chair. As, thanks to Jenkin, be And deeper glowed the colors,
seated himself, the slim footman placed a small bet Within the vaulted sky; And sweeter than a tuneful harp,
heavy box on the floor at his feet. The voice that floated by.
"Well-well-what is your business ?" inquired the miser. This was in answer to some warm
salutations with which Achilles Wiley met an “Go sceptic! track the forest!
"old friend.” Search earth's remotest shore ! In every breeze that stirs the leaf,
“ Ah!" answered the lawyer, “you were always And in the billowy roar;
an eccentric man. But perhaps you are right. God's voice speaks forth in loudest strains
Time is money.
My business, my worthy old And if you will but hear,
friend, concerns the bond of Jeptha Smooth and All nature chants his fervent praise,
John Stanton-a bond which, I think, these perTo each attentive ear.
sons gave upon their purchase of some of your
Swan River lands." “Deny thy God no longer,
“ Yes : it is so.
What of the bond ! said Miles For he is strong in wrath!
Gregory. An unbeliever, such as thou,
“ You are aware that Smooth and Stanton have Is a serpent in bis path!
failed," said the lawyer, “ and that this bood for Repent ere sorrow darkens, To God with fervor pray;
$9,000 is not worth sixpence." And He, who loves his children,
May be so—may be so," commented the miser. Will wash thy guilt away."
“You take your loss very coolly," Wiley resumed. “But although the bond is not worth sixpence, Smooth and Stanton will pay you a good fair sum. They have failed, but they are honest men; and their good reputation enables them to borrow the means of arranging this debt opon rea.
sonable terms." THE GREGORIES OF HACKWOOD.
“ If they are honest they will pay all —pay all." said Miles Gregory.
“ This is a little too exacting," answered the
lawyer ; "and such a demand will defeat the conCHAPTER IV.
templated arrangement. My dear old friend, you
are a sagacious man. Half a loaf is better than Let us go back to Hackwood, to ascertain the no bread. If you go for the whole, you lose the cause of the miser's ride. It was some hours be- whole. I am empowered to pay you one dollar in fore his appearance in Casselton, that, as he sat two of the debt." in his desolate room, ruminating variously—now “ That will be well,” said the miser; “and we embiltered by his recollection of Joan's bold threat can give some time-not too long—on the rest.” to lay violent hands upon his boards, and again “ No," said the lawyer, “ the bond must be surbecoming placid with the reflection that he had rendered on payment of $4,500. Otherwise you relieved his son without parting with a dollar of get nothing for it." bis actual moneys the arrival of a gentleman was A sharp, shrewd iwinkle of the old man's small announced to him by Jenkin. This gentleman eyes answered this speech, before he answered it was Achilles Wiley, Esq., a lawyer of distinction in words. in that country—that is to say, a legal star shining, " You are cunning enough—cunning enough," in a very noted manner, over some five counties, he presently said, -- but I see through you. Lewis, which his orbit embraced. He came in a great my son, has the bond, and can fasten it on some roomy, low-swinging coach, with spotless pannels
, which you keen dogs have found out. Jepand a splendid hammer-cloth. His coachman was 'tha Smooth and Jack Stanton have hired you to
BY P. P. COOKE."
come, and make this offer of half-10 tempt me- danger ? you keen dogs find out a great deal. I lo tempt me to take back the bond from my son, must have my money, every cent of it.” who, they think, would give it up, if I said give it “ A bold step or two, taken in time, may make up. You are bly very sly—but I am sharp." you sase," answered the lawyer. “Ireton, I think,
"I admit," said the lawyer, not in the least sha- will be, even now, unable to pay the debt; but ken, " that my clients have heard of the assign- young Grant is so deeply involved, that he will ment of the bond, and stand in fear of annoyance quietly pay it, to save his credit, which is of vital if not persecution, from your son's creditors, to importance to him. A little adroitness will whom it will soon pass. But there is no fund; the make the debt without suit. Of course I do bond will not be collected; your son is mistaken. not advise you for any benefit of my own; I would li is from an honest desire to pay their debts, com- be very reluctant to undertake the business, after bined with the fear of this annoyance and persecu- advising you to proceed in it. It is but giving neLion, that they make you the present offer." cessary counsel to an old and esteemed friend."
The miser began to lose his look of clear cun- “ The bond must be collected," said Miles ning, and to seein confused in understanding and Gregory, with a sharp accent.
· All is roguerypurpose.
roguery. Is nobody honest ? You must sue--sue. “ May he the bond will be worth nothing to Give no quarter. They
ruin me in my Lewis," he said, “ whilst it is worth what you of-old
old fer 10 me.
But I could never take it back. Joan “Well, we will see after the matter," answered has her way. You can pay the money on the other the lawyer. “ You can place the bond in my bond. That is a good idea-very good.” hands before I go. My scruples shall not stand in
" What other bond ?" the lawyer asked. I wrote the way of serving you. But let us reconsider the conveyance of the Swan River lands, and re- the business of the other bond, which, it seems, collect the transaction. Smooth and Stanton paid your son holds. Smooth and Stanton offer $4,500 you $10,000 in gold”
for its surrender ; your son will find it impossible " In silver mostly-in silver and gold," the mi- 10 collect a dollar of it; you are losing $4,500 for ser interrupted him, with the gleam of a happy the pleasure of leaving a worthless piece of paper reminiscence streaking that wilted winter-apple, in his hands." his old face.
“ You don't know," said the miser with a sort of “ Yes : $10,000 in silver and gold. They as- sour fear in his look. “You are sharp, but you signed the bond of Henry Ireton, and Henry don't know. My daughter Joan has her way." Grant, Snr., for $10,000 more of the purchase- “Of course your excellent daughter,” replied money-an assignment made without recourse Wiley,“ will be reasonable enough to perceive, in against themselves. Finally they gave their own the end, that you have acted with wisdom, in rebond for $9,000, now in question. You hold no suming a paper of no earthly value to your son, other bond of these parties, Smooth and Stanton?" but worth $4,500 to yourself.”
" It is Ireton's bond I meant," said the miser. * No-no," said the miser, but with a look which Pay me the moneys on that.”
belied his words. “ Let them find out; no fault “My clients,” responded the lawyer, with a of mine; let them find out that the bond comes to pleasant lifting of the eye-brows" have nothing to nothing. No fault of mine. I gave them the do with that bond of Irelon and Grant. By the help. They were satisfied. Besides, it may come way, old friend, you had better look about you in to something."
"Well, well," said Wiley, “I have made the "I look after it very well," answered the miser. offer, and explained its entire liberal character, as "Ireton pays me, pays me on the day, six hun- well as the positive folly of rejecting it. I knew per annum, in silver, punctually."
the objection, which, as a cautious man, you enter"Irelon wades in deep water, and the estate of tained to bank notes, and was at the pains of proGrant
, the surety, is in quite a pretty condition." curing the sum, which I have offered you, in gold. This arbiguous remark upon the solvency of But your mind is made up, and I may as well have our friend Henry Grant, for the llenry Grant, Snr., the box returned to my carriage. Peterkin! Pe
was his dead fatlier, and the estate terkin!" pronounced to be in qnite a pretty condition was As the lawyer called, Peterkin, the slim footman his inheritance, the lawyer made less ambiguous entered. He received an order to take the box, by a preuy shrewd look, and a wise shake of the which he had placed at his master's feet, back to head. The announcement of this peril, real or the carriage ; and proceeded to obey it. A glance
to his interests, produced an immedi- was interchanged by master and man; and Peterale effect upon Miles Gregory. The evil princi- kin, afier raising the box with great apparent efple began, at once, to rear its subile head, and 10 fort, as high as his shoulder, permitted it to fall shake its hideous scales.
upon the floor. The fall made the old warped "Danger-danger !" be mullered. And is there tooring tremble, and the windows clatter. The
of the bond,
miser jumped from his chair with a weakly agility ;, With the fear, the ricketty amble became a rickbefore him, in a yellow stream, he saw the bright etty gallop. The reader now anderstands why gold pieces tremble, and rush, and spin upon the Miles Gregory, the recluse, gallopped, amongst floor.
shouting boys, over the hill to the house of his “Gather them up, gather them up; tempta- blind son. tion!" muttered the old man, and, stooping down, he began to rake the coins together. As he did
CHAPTER V. so, his eyes began to express the vile craving of his nature ; his hands lingered upon the metal.
The miser drew up his horse at the gate of the “And this was for me," he half moaned. “Fresh lule yard in which Lewis Gregory, his sister, and from the mint. Four thousand and five hundred Henry Grant were met; and presently stood face dollars in gold-nine hundred pieces-all for me. to face with the three. Joan said nothing, but And if I don't take it, the rascals are to keep it pressing an arm across her breast, awaited the rekeep it owing me. And Lewis is to be none the sult. Henry Grant saluted the old man with grare better. Joan-but—but,” here he paused, and his
courtesy. Lewis Gregory said: voice, when he did speak again, had sunk into an
“ Father, it is long since you did me so great a inward whisper, “I can hide my moneys away kindness. Thanks for a visit, which your iofrmiwhere Joan, pry, pry as she will, can never find ties make a serious labor to you. You see us them."
quite happy again." Turning presently to the lawyer he said: “send
“ Kindness-kindness?" replied the old man, your man away.
We must see what can be done.” possessed by his one idea. · No: it is not that. Wiley, his countenance expressive of innocent Give me back the bond.” surprise at the sudden change of resolution on the His voice had a fatal earnestness in it. He part of his old and esteemed friend, dismissed Pe- fastened his keen eyes upon his son and said seveterkin, whilst the gold still lay with a tempting ral times over, running the words into each other,glitter upon the floor.
* Give me back the bond." This reasonable," he said. “It would be a
Lewis Gregory, astounded by this onespected great pity that so pretty a sum should be lost 10 demand, turned from one to another, without anyou."
swering. Joan stepped forward; her faiber “ We must get the bond back," said the miser, thought that he saw the storm of her temper rising. with the wrinkles of his face drawn into a fixed
“Send Joan away,” he exclaimed angrily. "I knot between his eyes.
am not to be talked out of my own. You won't “ Assuredly. Your refusal, in the first instance, brow-beat me now. Go away: go away-sou was quite unlike your customary sagacity." Jezebel." It was presently decided that Miles Gregory
“No; here I remain," Joan answered. should go in person to recover the bond from his
“Well, stay. I am not afraid. You are a bold He would glad!y have taken the lawyer with hussy. Get out of the way. Give me back the him, as a body-guard, but that gentleman had in bond; Lewis, I say, give me the bond." superable private objections, and insisted, with
"Is it possible, father, that you require this !" some adroit reasons, upon remaining at Hackwood, said the blind man. until his return. The gold was restored to its box.
“ Yes, yes : you are deceiving yourself," said Wiley was conducted to another room ; Miles his father. “The bond will be worth nothing to Gregory could leave no one so near his treasure-you. I know all about it. Give it back to me." closet. Doors were made secure. Jenkin brought He said nothing of the fact, that a sum of money out the superannuated riding-horse. The miser had been offered to himself for it; fearing that to mounted, the wrinkle still fixed between his eyes, let this be known would but increase the difficulty and an internal one as tightly puckered about his of recovering it. heart. The miserable horse, an old friend, neg. Here the noise of some mischievous lads, climb lected as his powers waned, at first quite satisfied ing upon the paling, made an interruption. his master by his slow ricketty amble; and Miles
“Come," said Lewis Gregory, " let us leave Gregory, like Tennyson's horseman
this too public place. I have still a roof to shelter
you from the derision of these poor children." “A gray and gap-toothed man, as lean as death,
The miser, as he followed his blind son, who Who slowly rode across a withered heath"
went led by Joan, only said, “ Never mind-nerer
mind." went feebly, and at poor speed, upon his way. Henry Grant, as the others entered, stopped But presently came the fear that all might be de- upon the portico, and remained there, walking up feated for want of haste; the bond might even now and down. be passing into other hands; the glorious gold, with the magic of its yellow gleam, might be lost. I tell me why it is that you recal an act of paier
"Now that we are alone,” said Lewis Gregory,