tecting the silent interchange of opinion between them, and foreseeing the escape of his master and his own renewed punishment, stamped his foot passionately upon the floor, and dashed his clenched fist in a fury against his forehead. "But where is Caled?" cried the calif. "Behold him !" resumed Amrou, as the slender and beautiful boy stood timidly shrinking in the farthest corner. "There is Caled; and, in that pale, girlish face, those trembling knees, you read his character. He is a coward. A feminine refinement causes him to recoil from all intercourse with In his mates. He revenges no insult. He rises against no oppression. He has not as much soul as a woman. educating him, I have had a task exactly opposite to that devolved upon me by the charge of Obeidah; and, consequently, I have been forced to resort to different means. The bully, who seizes each occasion of conflict, I always restrain and punish, for his brutal ferocity; while this faint-hearted youth I have striven to urge on by promises and threats, to the acts and feelings of a man and a soldier. Were these two boys grown to maturity, oh calif, and taken into thy employ, Caled would cunningly become thy vizier, and Obeidah thy chief. They are both without virtue, and both gifted with genius. Unless I succeed in breaking down the natural vices of their character, both might win thy confidence, and neither would deserve it. Obeidah would rebel against thee-Caled would betray thee. The one would attack thee with thy own armies, and the other assassinate thee with thy own dagger. "Allah acbar-"God is good! said the calif. "Thou art free, Amrou, and to reward thy wisdom and compensate thy fright, I decree thee each year a purse of gold. Hereafter I will guide my subjects, and leave thee to thy scholars. We are both in the station for which heaven designed us." Thus saying, the son of Abu Taleb departed; and, it is believed, on authentic testimony, that the string, intended for the neck of Amrou, found more appropriate employments on the backs of the pale Caled and the foaming Obeidah. Ten years had rolled away over the conquests of the Saracens, and witnessed the rapid rise of that remote band of Arabians to the dignity and power of a mighty nation. Already in the large stars that kindled over Mecca, had the astrologers read the dazzling career of their armies and their philosophers: predicting, to those fervid sons of the desert, lendid victories in remote climes and over remote nations -dominion over Persia, Syria, Egypt, Africa and Europe, and perhaps the mastery of the whole globe. Their bright career, however, was not without shadows, and Ali heard with surprise, though without fear, that a powerful Arabian chief escaped from Medina to Mecca, and thence to Bassora, and erected the standard of revolt and usurped the government of Irak or Assyria. Ayesha, the widow of the prophet, who hated the family of Abu Taleb, accompanied their flight and sustained their cause at the head of thirty thousand men. The calif Ali met them beneath the walls of Bassora. Ayesha, who had chosen her post amid the dangers of the field, urged on the troops of the rebels. It is reported that, of the faithful slaves who held the bridle of her camel, seventy, in succession, were killed or wounded, and her cage or litter, 'was struck with javelins and darts, like the quills of a porcupine." At length her soldiers gave way before the tremendous cry of the calif, "Allah acbar!" God is victotorious and the field of the triumphant Ali was occupied by no enemies except the captives and the slain. The widow of Mahomet was treated with tenderness and dismissed with honour, but death was doomed to the commander of the traitors. He was dragged, fierce, foaming, and stained with dust and blood, before the conqueror's throne; and, in the desperate chieftain of Medina, the monarch recognised Obeidah, the yet unforgotten pupil of Amrou. The same Hosein who had then stepped to the side of the pedagogue, now stood before the youth. In one moment the fatal string was at his throat, and the next a clod-like and senseless trunk was flung to the dogs, and a ghastly head dripped over the most public gate of Bassora. This victory is styled by the Moslem historians, the "day of the camel." Many sanguinary contests ensued, in which the son of Abu Taleb displayed the dignified superiority of a warrior and a statesman. But the disobedience of his soldiers often wrested from his grasp the advantages of his triumphs; till one day in the mosque at Cufa, a single form, kneeling to present a petition, was suffered to approach him in a moment of privacy and solitude. "Thou art Caled," cried Ali, placing his hand upon his cimeter, partly with an involuntary recollection of the prediction of Amrou and partly moved by the dark expression in the countenance of his companion. But the action was too late. Age had stiffened his arm. Before the blade had half left its scabbard, the pale Caled had inflicted a mortal wound. The assassin would have escaped, but for an accident which opportunely summoned the attendants. "We will torture him," said one of the calif's sons, an eternity!" "for No, no!" cried the expiring monarch, still benevolent in 66 no torture. It is useless. It is unworthy. Let him death, The terror and the existence of Caled ceased in an instant. His head was thrown to the rabble at the gate. Ali breathed his last at the same moment, and Moawiyah, the son of Abu Sophian, reigned in his stead. The good calif was hononred with a tomb, a temple and a city, the ruins of which, to this day, attract the feet of pilgrims across the burning desert. 13001 DAY DREAMS. ROUSED by thy summons, shadowy past, And trembling o'er the lonely strings, Up from their dreamless sleep appear A loved and cherished train: They showed me where the wild flower bloomed, The violet and the rose; And said the greensward gently pressed The graves where they repose. I knew I knew if beauty rare, And face where radiance glows, Could from the tyrant snatch his prey And now while mid the sportive ring I deem that valley, hill and stream More gaily winds the cheerful horn, And, springing from beneath yon cliff, The pleasant voices of the spring I come-I come; the laughing hours Ambition's wreath and glory's crown, I scent the balmy breath of even. On fortune's stream I spread my sail, But hark! the city's myriads pour, Boy, close the casement! I'll not hear Alas! their shouts have called me back, 100001 THE DISGUISED LOVER. My friend Tom has a natural affection for dirt, or rather dirt has a natural affection for Tom. It is to him what gold was to Midas; whatever he touches turns to dirt. No matter how white the cravat-no matter how immaculate the vest, the moment that it comes within the sphere of Tom's influence, its whiteness is gone; it is immaculate no longer. Dogs, sweeps and lamplighters, never pass him without leaving upon his dress unequivocal marks of their presence. Once, and only once, I saw him cross the street without encountering the wheels of a carriage. I opened my mouth to congratulate him, and before I could utter one word, it was filled with mud. The careless blockhead lay at my feet, full length in the gutter. At my earnest solicitation, he once purchased a suit of precisely mud colour. It was a capital idea. He crossed the street three times; he walked half a mile, and returned, in appearance, at least, unscathed. The thing was unprecedented. True, he was welcomed by the affectionate caresses of a dog that had been enjoying the coolness of a neighbouring gutter; true, he received a shower-bath from the wheels of an omnibus. But to plaster mud on Tom's new coat, was "to gild refined gold-to paint the lily." "Tom will be a neat man yet," I said, as I witnessed the success of my plan. In about half an hour, it was my fate to meet a gentleman with seven stripes of green paint on his back-it was my friend Tom; he had been leaning against some newly-painted window-blinds. His washerwoman, with a very proper regard for her own reputation, has been compelled to discard him, not from any ill-will, but, as she declared with uplifted hands, "if any one should ask me if I washed Mr. Smith's clothes, what could I tell them ?" But there were very few things in this world with which Tom could have more easily dispensed, than the services of his washerwoman. Having no other amusement, one morning, I strolled over to Tom's rooms. As I ascended the stairs, I heard his voice in a very decided tone. "But it must be done, and so there is an end to it." Really," was the reply, "anything within the limits of possibility, but to make a coat in five hours-I will promise anything in the world, but I really fear I shall be unable to perform." "If double your price would be any object 66 Certainly, sir, if you insist upon it; certainly. I will put every man in my shop upon it; it shall be done in time. Good morning, sir," The door opened, and a fellow with shears and measures passed out. What could Tom be doing with a tailor? "Just the man I wanted to see," he exclaimed. "I require your advice upon a very important affair; which of these cravats do you think most becoming?" and he spread before me some half dozen, of every hue and fashion. "Now what in the name of all that is wonderful, does this mean, Tom? A fancy ball, is it? You have chosen an excel But lent disguise; your nearest friends will never know you. you cannot support the character; if you had taken that of a chimney-sweep, now; but that would have been too natural. Tell me truly, Tom, what does all this mean?" "Why, the fact is, Frank," passing a hand through his hair, redolent of macassar, "I have concluded-I think I shall be a little more neat in future. You, doubtless, remember the good advice you gave me some time since; it has had an excellent effect, I assure you." Now it so happened, that of all the good advice I had ever given Tom, this was the very first instance in which he had seen fit to follow it. So I could not attribute the metamorphosis of my friend to my eloquence. Who but a woman ever changed a sloven to a fop? |