Then Abderrahman took his son aside, tremes; and fearing also the anger of Aband remarked to him, that the merchant derrahman, for having committed this seemed clearly convinced that his wife murder in his house, he was about to kill had been most to blame. "But now," himself. but Abderrahman who stood bemcontinued he, "we shall see whether he is hind the door, and had been witness to the a man of honour, or whether he is vile whole scene, flew into his arms, and emand weak enough to pardon this wretched bracing him, said, "You have indeed done woman, and live in acknowledged disho- as a man of honour ought to have done. nour. In the latter case my mind is made Behold this dagger. Had you been so up; my dagger shall pierce his heart as basely weak as to have pardoned your well as his wife's; for we do a service to wife, I had determined to use it, to have mankind in general, if we clear the world rid the world of you, and her, and her of bad women and mean spirits." He slave together. But now you are wel then went to the jeweller, and said to him: come to my house, and, if you please, to "My friend, to be married is not the busi- the hand of my daughter, Morning Star, ness of a moment, but needs long patience. Cama alzaman's sister."

66

You know that we must bear with wo- It was given out that the two women man, and to forgive is a meritorious ac who arrived with Camaralzaman had died tion in the sight of God. Camaralzaman a natural death, and they were publicly is your friend, and your wife has repented buried. Abderrahman went to the Mufti, of her inconstancy to you; be therefore and told him that the marriage of both generous and forgive her. To be recon- their daughters should take place at the ciled with her, is what I advise; and if same time; and they were accordingly you will stay here you will do me a great joined together at the self same hour, to honour: but if you wish to return to your the great joy of Abderrahman, Camaralown country, I will give you every thing zaman, and Obeid, the jeweller. necessary for your journey. Let your Some time after, the jeweller began to anger therefore be appeased and go feel desirous of seeing his native land to your wife."-"Where is she?" asked again, and, taking leave of his father-inthe jeweller. In yonder pavilion," re-law, he returned with his new wife to plied Abderrahman, "where she has been Bassora. His friends, who supposed he tonfined since the arrival of my son. I had been in the Hejaz, received him with have found another woman for his wife, great joy, and smi ingly said, they hoped and we have only this day concluded the in future that his wife would resign her festivities of their betrothal,-here is the privilege of the processions on Friday; key of the pavilion." The jeweller took for they knew not a word of all that had t with demonstrations of joy, and Abder- happened, and Obeid had determined to rahman followed him at a distance, arm- tell no one of it. But the king seemed ed with a dagger, which he had determi- resolved to punish him for having dared to ed to make use of. As the jeweller ap- make a journey without asking his perproached the door of the pavillion, he mission; and he was, therefore, under the heard his wife crying and lamenting the necessity of disclosing the secret of his marriage of her lover. To this her slave absence to him, and it is from this source nswered, "Madam, did I not tell you, that it has descended down to us. Five rom the very commencement of your years afterwards, the jeweller died, and mour with the beautiful youth, that it the king would have married his widow, would come to a bad end?" "Peace! but she firmly refused, saying the ladies eace exclaimed the jeweller's wife, I of Cairo were too faithful ever to conwould rather languish in a prison for his sole themselves for the loss of their first ake, than live in freedom with my hus- husband by a second marriage Whence and."--"Infamous wretch!" cried the one may see, that there are, indeed, some usband. He entered the pavilion, seized women, who, like Halima, deserve to be is wife, and strangled her as well as her strangled; but that there are others also, ave. The next moment, however, he who, like Morning Star, are true patterns as full of remorse for having allowed his of virtue and truth.

age to drive him to such dreadful ex

day there was a feast for the poor, who him, after he had eaten and drank and were invited thither from far and near, partaken of the coffee and sherbet. to fill themselves and be merry. Among When the jeweller was about to dethem appeared a man clothed in rags, part, Abderrahman called him lle ap whose face and skin was burnt quite proached, and recognizing Camaralzaman brown by the sun. The notice of Cama-stood petrified with shame. Camaralza ralzaman was attracted by this stranger, man fell on his neck and wept. "This is and he recognized in him the ill-treated not the way to receive your friends," said jeweller Asti Obeid. Abderrahman: let him first have a bath, After he had assisted his own wife to and give him new raiment." He was led get into her litter, and had taken leave or to a bath, and a robe was brought for him Camaralzaman, he went to his shop and which could not be worth less than one remained there the whole day at his work. thousand dinars. The guests asked who It was only late in the evening that he this stranger was, and Camaralzaman in went home. But when he found neither formed them that he came from Basson, his wife nor any of his valuables, he then had been a rich jeweller, and one of his perceived the deceit she had practised on best friends. He bade them not be sit him, and in despair determined to put an prised to see him in such an abject state, end to his existence. He desisted, how-as he had probably fallen into the hands ever, when he reflected how much his of the Arabs, who had reduced him to enemies would glory in his disgrace and this. He related his having formerly folly, and put so good a face on his vexa- been treated in the like manner, and that tion, that no one observed any thing un- he must ascribe his own recovery solely common in his behaviour. He determined to the care and attention of this friend to keep the secret of his shame, and gave By this narration he made the jewelle out among his friends that he intended to appear in a very favourable light to his take his wife with him to Cairo, to visit company, and when he came in amor his friend Camaralzaman. At the same them again, they all stood up and rece time, he solicited his friends, in case he led him with marks of the greatest resp should be inquired for at court, to say that In order to prevent his guest's exper he was gone with his wife to Mecca. He ing any uncomfortable sensation or purchased a slave, whom he placed on a picion. Camaralzaman expressed, litter, and giving out that she was his wife, voice so loud that all could hear his set out the next day for Egypt. his gratitude, and the many obligati

The intelligence that the jeweller and owed to the jeweller for his kind his wife had left Bassora on a journey, tion of, and attention to him in P was a source of great joy to the inhabi-le showed him also many other li tants of that city, as they were thereby vilities, and kept him so deeply. released from tyranny of the Friday pro- in conversation, that the jeweller cession, during which time all those who opportunity to open his mouth had any regard for their heads were obli- his wife. But when they were ged to betake themselves to the mosques. derrahman remarked to the je Soon after Asti Obeid had left his native they had purposely prevented city, the same fate befell him which Ca-on the subject which brought maralzaman had formerly met with when before the strangers, in order he was but one day's journey from Bas- honour. He then related tr sora. He was plundered by the Arabs of the whole intrigue; and havi... the desert. Thus he was obliged to live he added: "You must per on alms, and beg his way from town to whole business, that my so town, until he arrived at Cairo, where so much the seducer as:1! this great feast had attracted considerable the man who is seduc numbers of the poor. not so guilty as the

Camaralzaman apprised his father of at all time the discovery he had made. His father the told him to keep his eye on Obeid, and that they would by-and-by interrogat

Then Abderrahman took his son aside, tremer and remarked to him, that the merchant derratms. seemed clearly convinced that his wite mare r had been most to blame. But now." fumet. continued he, we shall see whether he is t

za man of honour, or whether he is TE WATE
and weak enough to pardon this wretchel prezzo
woman, and live in acknowledged disne~ 3-
nour. In the latter case my mind is maa
up; my dagger shall pierce his heart as sar
well as his wife's; for we do a service :

mankind in general, if we clear the work 71
of bad women and mean spirits."

Abelard to Heloise.

BY HORATIO NEWTON MOORE.

But are we always doom'd to be apart?
Shall I no more entwine thee to my heart?
Must here my days in silence pass? must here
My time be always spent,-from year to year?
In a convent's walls, religiously immured,
Must I grow old, to feasts and fasts inured?

Author of "Mary Morrrs," “The Grooms-No, no, torbid it, Heaven-or let ine die,

man," "Mr. Johnson," &c.

While leaves are green, while summer paints the sky,
Whilst yet the warm blocd gushes thro' my veins,
Ere I have felt decrepitudé and pains.

The hours that we've together pass'd-they seem There have been several poems written Like recollections of a long past dream; on this subject. The one by Pope, which Like blooming flowers that have been doom'd to fade is the best, is of course familiar to every Like earthly happiness they've fled from sight, Their wither'd leaves still lin.g'ring in the shade; general reader; its merits and beauties are And left the world, to us, in one dark night! universally admitted, and it would be but No sun to shine upon our future days, a waste of time for me to enlarge upon No moon to throw around her silv'ry beams, No star to shed the twinkiing of its rays, them. The facts relative to Abelard and But darkness, clouds, and retrospective dreams. Heloise are public property-Fope had the privilege of using them-others had How calm we were-how happy and how blestand have so have I. No plagiarisms How like a gentle stream the time flowed by By fortune and by friendsmp both caress'd. will be detected,-I am guilty of none-No tears to ruffle it-not even a sigh. and though I have followed in the foot- No cares embitter'd life-no griefs harass'dsteps of that immortal, bard, I have by The flowery dell thro' which we often stray'd Like one long summer's day existence pass'd. no means encroached upon his rights.

when all was happiness-so fond-so true,
The peaceful joys of other times to view,
When ev'ry day still added new delights,
When melody awoke the sleeping nights;
I love thee-yes-and I will be thy bride.”
When Heloise to Abelard replied-

The mountain that we climb'd, the greenwood shade, Abelard and Heloise, so celebrated for All lent their charms to sweeten life-to give their learning beauty and misfortunes, The pleasures and the hopes for which men live. flourished in the twelfth century.-De- How changed-how alter'd is the blissful scene! voted to literature from his childhood, 'Tis winter's blight where once was summer's green! Abelard early acquired all the knowledge But still around the heart remembrance lings; science and philosophy, of the age in Stil mem'ry conjures up the past, and brings which he lived. His profession was that of a teacher-he rose to eminence, and while in the zenith of his popularity became enamoured of, and was beloved by his pupil-the young, beautiful and ac complished Heloise. They were privately married previous to the birth of a son; but the lady, singular as it may seen, denied the marriage to her uncle-choos- Our lips would meet, and then the long-sweet kiss, And gaze with rapture on thy glowing charms. ing rather to be considered the mistress Whilst thou wouldst hang around me, wild with bliss. of her husband than his wife. Her un-And "dear-deal Heloise!"-would I repeat"Dear Heloise!"-again our lips would meet. cle's rage, and the effects of his vengeance "Dear Abelard" wouldst thou reply-and then on the person of Abelard' is too well The lips that met before would meet again! known to need a repetition. A succession of calamities befel the unfortunate or sitting in thy parlour, side by side, We pass'd the happy tine-it seem'd to glide. pair;-Heloise took the veil, and Abelard There thou wouldst lean thy cheek upon thy hand. buried his sorrows and shame in a With absent thoughts-with thoughts of fairy land; cloister.

There's music in the sound-and ev'ry breeze,
That whispers by, repeats the name of Heloise,
Like music in the stillness of the night,
Like joys that never pall but still delight,
io sounds that name,-so melts upon the ear,-
To feeling sacred, and to mem'ry dear!
The shady grove, the forest and the glen,
All echo it, all speak it back again!-
The river murmers it-and down the dale
It sweeps along with every passing gale.

We used to wander thro' the shady scene;
All nature smiling and the landscape green,

Around thee I would wind affection's arms

Or take thy lute, and sweeping o'er its strings,
Call back the hours-the hours with golden wings;
Then sing the song that I most lov'd to hear,-
The tones of which not only pleas'd the ear,
But in the soul made sweet emotions rise
Till ev'ry feeling blended with the skies!

Tine pass'd; we fonder grew-mo e fond and free;
All day and half the night I pass'd with thee.
We daily loved the more and studied less
To meet was rapture, and to part distress.
Thy uncle- where was he?-he little thought
That love was learnt while learning was not taught;

He thought it not he did not once surmise
That I had favour found in those bright eyes;
He little thought that one so highly born
Could look on me with any looks but scorn.

To marriage-ties at last thou gav'st consent,
And to the chapel privately we went.
We stood beside the altar, hand in hand,—
And with a voice so lowly and so bland

The priest read thro' the service-lisp'd a prayer

Whilst we knelt down amidst the silence there.
The Cross-the holy tapers stood around-
But, save the priest's low voice no other sound.
We rose-not as we knelt-but man and wife-
Bound by the Church together bound for life.

Our child was born;-the sunshine and the shade

Now changed to tempests and our hopes dismay'd.
Our happy, calm, serene and tranquil lite,
Was changed to sorrowing and family strife,
But why rehearse the tale? why speak, why tell,
Of sorrow and of shame? why on it dwell?
Doubts darken it but ev'ry future age
Shall read the truth of it on hist'ry's page.
Mankind shall deprecate thy uncle's ire-
And love shall tune for us the gold-string'd lyre!

But fare thee well, thou lov'd one! fare thee well!
Still write to me and all thy sori ows tell.
Write all that happens-all thy thoughts express.
Write what thy feelings are-write thy distress.
All-all day long my thoughts are turn'd to thec;
I wish once more in thy embrace to be.
Or it I sleep my slumbers are but dreams,
Where ever present thy lov'd image seems!
Adieu then, Heloise! my joy-my life
Or in one word at once, adieu, my wife!

The Lover's Quarrel. :

"Alas! how slight a cause may move
Dissention between hearts that love."

Will the reader please to picture an appartment in the mansion of Lord Hartly, appropriated to the use of his daughter, the Lady Caroline Alton-her dressingroom. It was about nine o'clock by the French dial, upon which her eyes were fixed. Her manner was abstracted and serious; she appeared to be thinking of any thing rather than what her maid wast speaking of, which was, whether "my lady would choose to wear pearls to night," upon the fourth repetition of which question, the lady turned impatiently, and answered, "Yes-no-stay; I do not think I will go," and then relapsed into her previous abstraction.

Lady Caroline Alton was an only child; a great beauty, a great heires, and a lee tle spoiled. She was generous and kindhearted to all, but capricious and self-willed to many, and among the rest, to one who the last deserved, and was the least disposed to bear it. The one we speak of was Charles Leslie, a gentleman in the only true sense of the term, that is to say, he had a noble heart joined to a clear. head: he saw the faults of Lady CaroLIEUT. 1. had a most unfortunate hesi- line, and trembled for their future peace, tation in his speech-so much so, that but he remembered she had not a mother when he was agitated, he could not be to guide her, and that her father was too understood. One morning, giving orders, much immersed in politics, and too proud a man, in obeying him, fell overboard. of her to notice and check her impetuosi The ship was in full sail. The Lieutenant, ty; he remembered too-but what will in agony, ran about, making every effort lover not remember or invent in extenuato explain what had happened. In vain tion of the loved one!

STAMMERING.

nobody could understand him. His agita- He had known her from a child, and tion rose so high, that he attempted to throw had some time since given her a bracelet himself overboard. The sailors held him in which was set his miniature; this bracethinking he was seized with madness. At let was now the cause of the lady's ab last, the admiral came up. The Lieuten-straction. Leslie and herself had met at ant then began again his unintelligible ef- a party the previous evening and had not Among fort. He, however, could make nothing separated the best of friends." of it. At last, he said, "if you can't speak, many others of the same stamp who were you can sing." This did the business. assembled at the party, was a Mr. MorThe Lieutenant immediately began a fa- daunt, one of a race justly called "buttervourite waltz.-There's a man over-flies," who serve by their glitter to dazzle. board; overboard-There! there!" point- and amuse, but are of no earthly use be ing to where he fell. Instantly the ship sides. He was light, vain, and handsome, was put back-the boat put off; and the just such a one as Lady Caroline would like to flirt with one hour and forget the poor fellow picked up at the last gasp.