are employed to read the Koran for some days over his grave. With regard to the education of the Affghans, the rich keep moollahs or Mahommedan clergymen in their houses, to teach their children, but allow them all the power appertaining to the office of a didaskalos or schoolmaster. One of these schoolmasters is to be found in every village and camp, who is maintained by a piece of land allotted to him, and by a small contribution which he receives from his scholars. In the towns there are regular schools, like those in European countries, where the master is maintained by his scholars alone. The sum commonly paid to the schoolmaster is about fifteen-pence a month, but the payments are in proportion to the circumstances of the boy's father. The course of study pursued, it is pleasing to know. A child begins his letters when he is four years and four days old; but its studies after this are immediately laid aside, and not resumed till it has attained the age of six years. It then learns a-new its alphabet, and is taught to read a little Persian poem of Hafiz; this incipient course takes from four months to a year, according to the capacity of the infant tyro. After this, the Koran is opened before him, and he begins to scan its marvellous pages. He then concludes his educational course by reading portions of the Persian classics, and is happy if he can acquire a smattering of the Arabic grammar. If the youth be intended for the sacerdotal order, and is destined to be a moollah or priest, he is placed at some place famous for its moollahs, such as Peshawur, Hushtinggur, &c.; and he there proceeds to the abstruse studies of logic, law, and theology. In these parts, the old cabalistical and occult sciences of alchymy, magic and divination, are carried to a great extent. Superstition, too, has no confined sway. They believe each of the numerous solitudes in the mountains and deserts of their country to be inhabited by a lonely demon, whom they call the Goule, or spirit of the waste, and whom they represent as a gigantic and frightful spectre, who devours any passenger whom chance may bring within his haunts. They also place great belief in dreams, and pry into futurity by astrological and geomantic calculations. Their commonest method of divination is by examining the marks in the blade-bone of a sheep, held up to the light--by the drawing of lots from the position assumed by arrows, poured carelessly out of a quiver, and by touching their rosaries after a peculiar fashion. They place implicit belief also in the Sortes Virgilance. For this purpose the Koran and the poems of Hafiz are used. And a happy coincidence is related to have occurred to a person at Lahore, who consulted Hafiz at the beginning of the troubles produced by the de GODDESS of bounty! at whose spring-time call, Of truth and joy upon our souls this night, Be on some hill Of vine-hung Thrace-oh, come, while night is still, And greet with heaping arms our gladden'd sight! Lo! the small stars, above the silver wave, Come wandering up the sky, aud kindly lave Like pearl-mist, on the earth and on the sea, Shall come, while Ocean to the burden reels And utters to the sky a stifled roar. LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF NICHOLAS [Boz has herein shown great knowledge of mankind, particularly in depicturing the knavish machinations of Ralph Nickleby and Arthur Gride, which contrasts finely with the virtuous character of the innocent and dutiful Madeline Bray, who forms a prominent feature in this Scene in the Rules of the King's Bench.] The place to which Mr. Cheeryble had directed him was a row of mean, and not over-cleanly houses, situated within the rules" of the King's Bench Prison, and not many hundred paces distaut from the obelisk in Saint George's Fields. The Rules are a certain liberty adjoining the prison, and com. prising some dozen streets, in which debtors, who can raise money to pay large fees, from which their creditors do not derive any benefit, are permitted to reside by the wise provisions of the same enlightened laws which leave the debtor who can raise no money to starve in jail, without the food, clothing, lodging, or warmth, which are provided for felons convicted of the most atrocious crimes that can disgrace humanity. To the row of houses indicated to him by Mr. Charles Cheeryble, Nicholas directed his steps, without much troubling his head with such matters as these; and at this row of houses after traversing a very dirty and dusty suburb, of which minor theatricals, shell-fish, ginger-beer, spring-vans, greengrocery, and broker's-shops, appeared to compose the main and most prominent features -he at length arrived with a palpitating heart. There were small gardens in front, which, being wholly neglected in all other respects, served as little pens for the dust to collect in, until the wind came round the corner and blew it down the road. Opening the rickety gate which, dangling on its broken hinges before one of these, half admitted and half repulsed the visiter, Nicholas knocked at the street-door with a faltering hand. It was, in truth, a shabby house outside, with very dim parlour-windows, and very small show of blinds, and very dirty muslin curtains dangling across the lower panes on very loose and limp strings. Neither, when the door was opened, did the inside appear to belie the outward promise, as there was faded carpeting on the stairs, and faded oil-cloth in the passage; in addition to which discom. forts, a gentleman Ruler was smoking hard in the front parlour, (though it was not yet noon,) while the lady of the house was busily engaged in turpentining the disjointed fragments of a tent-bedstead at the door of the back parlour, as if in preparation for the reception of some new lodger who had been fortunate enough to engage it. Nicholas had ample time to make these observations while the little boy, who went on errands for the lodgers, clattered down the kitchen-stairs, and was heard to scream, as in some remote cellar, for Miss Bray's servant, who, presently appearing, and requesting him to follow her, caused him to evince greater symptoms of nervousness and disorder than so natural a consequence of his having inquired for that young lady would seem calculated to occasion. Up stairs he went, however, and into a front room he was shown, and there, seated at a little table by the window, on which were drawing-materials with which she was occupied, sat the beautiful girl who had so engrossed his thoughts, and who, surrounded by all the new and strong interest which Nicholas attached to her story, seemed now, in his eyes, a thousand times more beautiful than he had ever yet supposed her. But how the graces and elegancies which she had dispersed about the poorly-furnished room, went to the heart of Nicholas! Flowers, plants, birds, the harp, the old piano, whose notes had sounded so much sweeter in by-gone times-how many struggles had it cost her to keep these two last links of that broken chain which bound her yet to home! With every slender ornament, the occupation of her leisure hours, replete with that graceful charm which lingers in every little tasteful work of woman's hands, how much patient endurance, and how many gentle affections were entwined! He felt as though the smile of Heaven were on the little chamber; as though the beautiful devotion of so young and weak a creature, had shed a ray of its own on the inanimate things around, and made them beautiful as itself; as though the halo with which old painters surround the bright angels of a sinless world played about a being akin in spirit to them, and its light were visibly before him. And yet Nicholas was in the rules of the King's Bench Prison! If he had been in Italy indeed, and the time had been sunset, and the scene a stately terrace; -but, there is one broad sky over all the world, and whether be blue or cloudy, the same heaven beyond it, so, perhaps, he had no need of compunction for thinking as he did. It is not to be supposed that he took in everything at one glance, for he had as yet been unconscious of the presence of a sick man propped up with pillows in an easy chair, who moving restlessly and impatiently in his seat, attracted his attention. He was scarce fifty, perhaps, but so ema. ciated as to appear much older. His features presented the remains of a handsome countenance, but one in which the embers of strong and impetuous passions were easier to be traced than any expression which would have rendered a far plainer face much more prepossessing. His looks were very haggard, and his limbs and body literally worn to the bone, but there was something of the old fire in the large sunken eye notwithstanding, and it seemed to kindle afresh as he struck a thick stick, with which he seemed to have supported himself in his seat, impatiently on the floor twice or thrice, and called his daughter by her name. "Madeline, who is this-what does anybody want here who told a stranger we could be seen? What is it? "I believe" the young lady began, as she inclined her head with an air of some confusion in reply to the salutation of Nicholas. "You always believe," returned her father, petulantly. "What is it ?" By this time Nicholas had recovered sufficient presence of mind to speak for himself, so he said (as it had been agreed he should say,) that he called about a pair of handscreens, and some painted velvet for an ottoman, both of which were required to be of the most elegant design possible, neither time nor expense being of the smallest considera. tion. He had also to pay for the two draw. ings, with many thanks, and, advancing to the little table, he laid upon it a bank note, folded in an envelope and sealed. "See that the money is right, Madeline," said the father, "open the paper, my dear." "It's quite right, papa, I am sure.' "Here!" said Mr. Bray, putting out his hand, and opening and shutting his bony fingers with irritable impatience. "Let me see. What are you talking about, Madeline -you're sure-how can you be sure of any such thing-five pounds-well, is that right ?" Quite," said Madeline, bending over him. She was so busily employed in arranging the pillows that Nicholas could not see her face, but as she stooped he thought he saw a tear fall. "Ring the bell, ring the bell," said the sick man, with the same nervous eagerness, and motioning towards it with such a quivering hand that the bank note rustled in the air. "Tell her to get it changed-to get me a newspaper to buy me some grapes-another bottle of the wine that I had last week -and-and-I forget half I want just now, but she can go out again. Let her get those first-those first. Now, Madeline, my love, quick, quick! Good God, how slow you are!" "He remembers nothing that she wants!" thought Nicholas. Perhaps something of what he thought was expressed in his countenance, for the sick man turning towards him with great asperity, demanded to know if he waited for a receipt. "It is no matter at all," said Nicholas. Nicholas bowed to the young lady, and retired. HEADS OF THE PEOPLE. [THIS popular work maintains the high character it has so deservedly earned by its faithful delineation of living characters. In the 8th number is concluded the chapter on Tavern Heads,' with two characteristic portraits: it gives also the Old Housekeeper, with her portrait, and the Postman-true to life :-] Herald of joy-messenger of evil! Daily terror-hourly hope! Now, one deputed from the gods; and now, the envoy of pain, and poverty, and death. Each and all of these is the unconscious Postman. In the round of one morning he may stand at fifty thresholds, the welcome bringer of blessed news, the long-hoped, long prayed for carrier of good tidings, and the dismal talebearer, the ambassador of woe. The Postman deals his short, imperative knock, and the sound shall, like a fairy spell, as quickly call a face of hopeful gladness to the door; he passes to the next house, and his summons makes the anxious soul within quail and quake with apprehension. He is, indeed, a stout, a happy man, whose heart has never shrunk at the knock of the Postman. We meet the Postman in his early walk; he is a familiar object-a social commonplace, tramping through mud, and snow, and drenching rain, and withering cold, the drudge of all weathers; and we scarcely heed the value of his toil, rarely consider the daily treasure of which he is the depository and the dealer forth. We speak of treasure in its highest meaning; eschewing all notice of bank notes, and bills, and cheques, wherewith the Postman is daily trusted; we confine ourselves to the more precious records of the heart; to the written communings of affection; the kind remembrances, the yearnings of the absent; the hopes of the happy; and the more sacred sorrows of the unfortunate. Look at that little bundle of letters grasped by the Postman. Who shall guess the histories that are there!-histories more deep, more touching, than many on the shelves of libraries; writing, albeit the authorship of the poor and ignorant, that in its homely truth shall shame the laboured pe riods of fashionable quill-cutters. The letter-carrier himself may be said to be deficient of any very striking character istic, any peculiar recommendation as a national portrait; in himself he is, indeed, a common-place: he is only for the time being elevated by our hopes and fears; only for the nonce the creature of our associations. We suffer the fever of anxiety for a letter, and the approaching Postman comes upon us a very different person from him who passed our window a week ago. In the intensity of our expectation, we almost make him a party to our gladness or our suffering he has nothing for us, and inwardly we almost chide him for the disappointment; he seems leagued against us, and in our thoughts we reproach him for his unkindness. "Are you sure you have nothing?” we ask, as if almost petitioning his will to delight us; for a time, we seem to ourselves dependent upon his courtesy alone for a satisfying answer. : We have said the Postman was with us a common-place; and yet, in the very regularity of his calls may we see the highest triumphs of civilization. How he keeps man knit to man; what interests he upholds; how he connects, and makes voluble, absent hearts; how, through him all the corners of the earth hold discourse with one another! The Postman with us is a daily fate: nought stops him; he walks, and walks, and for ever walks, knocking and dealing forth his many missives, in fair weather and in tempest, in scorching sun and nipping frost. In the remote habitations of man, the Postman is, indeed, invested with more romantic attributes; he is not a dweller among the people, but a fitful and uncertain visitor. The letter-carrier to the few denizens of a Cana dian forest, is of far higher mark than the Postman in Cheapside. Though his calling be, in truth, of the humblest sort, we do not look upon it as altogether menial. The cause of this is probably to be found in the various feelings of hope and fear which it is his function at times to awaken in us. Though, indeed, nothing more than a light porter, still, the precious things revealed to us by the little packets he is charged with for us, endow, him with a consequence independent of his mere employment. He is, we know, with his masters a man of trust; but he is something more to us; he is so mingled with our happy and fearful expectations, that we wholly forget the money-letters every day entrusted to him, in our thoughts of the missives beyond all purchase which he sometimes brings us. If we may here say a word for the Twopenny Postman, we will denounce his livery: it is more a badge of mere servitude, than a uniform denoting office. We would have him thought a more galiantly appointed, or at once relieve him of the scurvy cuffs and collar with which, in either the bad taste or the worse economy of the Post Office, he is now branded. The suit of scarlet, we own, befits a Postman: there is an importance, a blazonry in it, in proper harmony with the bringer of news. Postmen (we speak particularly of Twopenny) are happy in their vocation: it se cures them against all the manifold ills of a sedentary life; and their minds, continually engaged in the light, though sometimes dilficult, reading of superscriptions, must ne cessarily be at once enlarged and strengthened by the practice. Cobblers and tailors are said to be addicted to politics, and, consequently, treason: this disposition has, by some philosophers, been traced to the indoor habits of the craftsmen, to their sedentary and cross-legged positions, all favourable to inward brooding, and, thereby, to discontent. Far different is the Postman: he lite rally walks through life; absolutely knocks through a whole existence, transacting small government bargains, with no time to sit or stand and think of the iniquities, real or imaginary, of his political masters. We never heard of a Postman being concerned in a conspiracy; whilst what tongue has strength enough to count the cobblers? Again, if the Postman start in life with a dapper figure, shall he not be slim and elegant to the last? Is he not certain of carrying to the grave his original greyhound outline? Gout shuns him; corpulency visits him not; whilst exercise crowns him with all its gifts, and claims the Postman as its own. The Postman rarely knocks at the doors of the very poor; and when, perchance, he stands at the threshold of the indigent, it is too often to demand a sacrifice. The letter that he proffers, must, perhaps, be purchased at the price of a dinner: at any cost, however, the letter must be possessed; for it comes from one who, it may be, has been silent for years; a far-off son, a married daughter. To thousands, a letter is a forbidden luxury; an enjoyment not to be bought by those who daily struggle with the dearest necessities, and who, once severed from a long distant home, are mute because they cannot fee the post, and will not, must not, lay the tax on others wretched as themselves. How much seeming neglect may have originated in the want of the post office shilling! THE ASIATIC JOURNAL, NO. CXIV. [CONTAINS information of the greatest importance to all persons interested in the political and domestic affairs of India; besides numerous highly entertaining papers, chiefly on lowing figurative moral "Tale from the BosOriental subjects; and, among them, the foltan," translated from the Arabic, entitled The Found Treasure.] A certain athlete had no provision for his daily wants, neither wherewithal to procure his evening or morning meal. To appease the tyranny of hunger, he car ried mortar on his back-for a subsistence is not to be earned by violence. At the desolation of his fortunes, his heart was continually fraught with sighs, and his head aching with sorrow. At one time he was waging war with the world, that oppresses the helpless; at another, knitting his brows at his desperate fortunes. Now, bitter tears would choke him at the sight of others revelling in pleasure; And, anon, he would weep at the frustration of his plans, and say," Did ever wight endure life of greater hardship than mine? "Others feast on honey-and fowl-and lamb; I have not even herbs to my bread! "If you talk of justice, surely this is not right, that I should go unclad while the cat has its warm coat of fur. 66 "Ah! would heaven but deal more kindly with me, and throw a treasure in my way; Haply I might yet for a while gratify my desires, and shake off the dust of sorrow!" I have heard that, on a time, he was dig ging in the field, and found a decayed jaw bone; The clasps loosened in the earth -the pearls of the teeth scattered. The mouth-albeit tongueless-imparted a counsel and a mystery, saying, “ Resign thyself, O mortal, to disappointment! "Reflect! is not this the plight of the mouth under the ground, whether it hath fed on sugar or the heart's blood? "Murmur not at the vicissitudes of fortune, for her mutations are perpetual, and beyond our control!" The moment that this truth dawned upon his mind, care ceased to be the tenant of his bosom; And he said, "Oh, unreflecting, erring, senseless appetite, bear the fardel of thy sufferings, and destroy not thine own self! "Whether man, the vassal of his Maker, hath his head bowed beneath the burden, or exalted to the cope of heaven; "The instant that his condition is changed by death, both states fade alike from his remembrance. "Grief and gladness then remain not; but the recompense of virtuous deeds, and the memorial of a good name-they remain !" The Gatherer. Palestine. The following masterly view of the impression made on the mind of a Christian visiting the Holy Land is from the pen of Chateaubriand. Extraordinary ap pearances (says he,) everywhere proclaim a land teeming with miracles. The burning sun, the towering eagle, the barren fig-tree, all the poetry, all the pictures of Scripture are here. Every name commemorates a mystely-every grotto announces a prediction every hill re echoes the accents of a prophet. Gon himself has spoken in these regions, dried up rivers, rent the rocks, and opened the grave. The desert still appears mute with terror; and you would imagine that it had never presumed to interrupt the silence since it heard the awful voice of the ETERNAL. In the Saxon times each borough sent but one Deputy; yet the number was consi derable for any town or village that chose to send one was at liberty; but the King's purpose was better served by having two Deputies only from places under his influence. The Barons also took care those dependent on them should send Deputies also; whilst the independent boroughs sent none, although their right to do so was not then disputed. Such was the origin of that partiality in the representation so much complained of. Iron Ship. The largest iron sailing ship in the world is now building in Messrs. J. Ronald and Co.'s yard, Footdee, Aberdeen. This stupendous vessel is of the following breadth of frame, 30 feet; depth of hold, 20 dimensions: Length of keel, 130 feet; feet; length over all, 137 feet; tons register, 537. Judging from her appearance, she is a beautiful model, and will carry an immense She is incargo on a small draft of water. tended for a company in Liverpool.—Aberdeen Herald. The Danish watchmen, as they go their rounds at bed-time, address a prayer to the Almighty to preserve the city from fire, and warn the inhabitants to be careful in extinguishing their candles and fires. H. M. Love and Death, a Fragment from a French Writer.-Love and Death resemble each other in many points. Both of them are blind, both are armed with darts, and both are equally cruel. Death strikes the prince and the peasant, levels the sceptre with the spade; and Love exercises the same empire. Both despise honours and riches; they acknowledge no distinction among mortals. True Love, like Death, never dies. These two tyrants of human life leave us no consolation but sighs and tears; they are equally insensible to intreaties and to bribes. The principal difference between them is, that Death at last triumphs over everything; but Love cannot overcome virtue. Sweden has, at present, 102 journals, and other periodical publications; of these, 20 are printed at Stockholm, 7 at Gottenburg, 5 at Upsal, and 4 at Lund: 17 were commenced in 1838, and 3 at the beginning of this year. PART V., (of Vol. I. for 1839,) of the MIRROR, with Ten ENGRAVINGS, is now published, price 8d. LONDON: Printed and published by J. LIMBIRD, 143, Strand, (near Somerset House); and sold by all Booksellers and Newsmen.-In PARIS, by all the Booksellers.In FRANCFORT, CHARLES JUGEL |