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The inhabitants are variously estimated, at from 5,000 to 10,000; perhaps the true number would be found to be between 7,000 and 8,000. The great majority of these are Mahommedans, the Christians not exceeding 1,000, and the Jews less than 500.-Buckingham's Travels among the Arab Tribes.

IN

THE VIOLET LEAF.

(Continued from page 8.)

my last communication, I informed my young readers, that I was summoned to the house by my father's voice, my name being many times repeated by the echo of the woods.

When I arrived at home, I found an old lady who was just come, a distant relation of the family, with two daughters, somewhat older than myself, who had, as I afterwards learnt, obtained leave of my parents to carry me to the town where she resided, for, as she said. it was impossible for me to receive any lessons in dancing, or to get any genteel accomplishments where I was, and therefore as she added, nothing could possibly be more advantageous for me, than to remain with her for half-a-year, and to attend the dancing school with my cousins.

This plan, together with my parents' acquiescence therewith, was communicated to me, as soon as I entered the parlor, it being signified at the same time, that I must hasten my preparations, as the lady intended to take her departure in less than two hours. I was so entirely confounded by these communications, and the variety of new ideas which burst upon my young mind in consequence of them, that I stood quite still in the centre of the room, like a person deprived of reason. Nevertheless, my heart beat with delight, and my whole countenance flushed with joy.

"You must excuse Rosa, madam," said my mother, " your kindness has quite overpowered the poor child; but, come my love, run to your maid, and get her to dress you in all haste, I will see to what farther is necessary."

Being thus admonished, I ran up stairs, and had just reached the door of my room, when my attention was drawn to the sound of some one sobbing aloud, and looking round, I saw my

dear brother in the gallery, not far from me, and so entirely overcome with grief, that he could not refrain from the open expression thereof, much as it seemed to hurt his dignity, as a boy, so to do.

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O, Adolphus," I exclaimed, rushing into his arms, "Why do you cry ?"

"And will you go, Rosa," he said, "Will you go with those people, and shall we never again meet in our lovely bower, never read and pray together again? O, Rosa, dear Rosa, you will not go-surely you will not go." "Why, Adolphus," I answered, “are you not going to school next week? and if the weather was fine every day, we could only go seven times more to the bower; and surely you would not deprive me of such a pleasant scheme, only for seven days of my company." "I would deprive you of no pleasure, my dear Rosa," he replied, "no pleasure which is right for you; but oh! my sister, can you believe that you will find happiness in dressing, dancing, and those vain amusements, which that lady desires to make you acquainted with. O, Rosa, dear Rosa, think of the pleasant hours we have spent in our happy bower; what sweet verses we have found, and what sweet hymns we have sung, and do ask mamma's leave to stay at home, for, believe me, dear sister, that lady and her daughters are not fit companions for one who desires to be a child of God." "How dare you say so, Adolphus," I asked, are you a judge of what is proper in people's characters? What have you seen wrong in that lady?"

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"I know her character," he replied, school, and I know that she is a worldly person." "Do you mean a wicked person," I asked; he replied, "that thinks more of pleasing the world, than of pleasing God; one, who would rather see her children great people in this world, than be sure of their being saints in heaven."

"I don't understand these things, Adolphus," I answered, "let me go, I am in a hurry," and I broke from him, for I was very hard and cruel at that time, and as I was much pressed for time in making my preparations. I had no more conversation with my sweet brother, nor did I see him again till I

was stepping into the carriage, when he came forward to give me a parting kiss.

I dare say, that no one of my readers will wish to know how I spent my time in the town, whither the lady carried me. It will be quite enough to say, that I filled up my hours with dressing, dancing, shopping, visiting, and seeing company. I had a new pair of stays made as soon as I arrived at my journey's end. I was laced up till I looked as stiff as a wooden doll; and then all my dresses having been fitted to these stays, were so trimmed with lace, ribbons, and gauze, that no one would have known them again. I was also taught a number of fine steps by the dancing master, and when my hair, which curled naturally, had been forced by hot irons and wire pins, to curl unnaturally, for the fashions of forty years since were very preposterous, then I thought myself a most accomplished little personage; the various follies which had been put into my head, having almost entirely chased away those sweet lessons of humility which my lovely brother had endeavoured to inculcate.

Two months, or more, passed in this ridiculous way; when suddenly one morning, before I was up, a servant came to my bed-side, and informed me that my father was come. I hastened to dress myself, and ran down, all anxiety, lest he should be come to fetch me home. Neither was this anxiety removed, when I saw him all pale and full of sorrow. As I ran into his arms, his eyes filled with tears, and he endeavoured in vain to command himself. “I cannot; no, I cannot, my little girl," were the first words he said, "I cannot stay to choose the mildest mode of communicating what I have to say, but, Adolphus, our own sweet Adolphus,-is very, very ill.—He will be taken from us-and we shall have deserved it, there is the sting, he would, when last at home, he would have won our souls to God; he would have persuaded us all to have become christians, but I always silenced him. When in his sweetly dutiful way, he would have led me to these subjects, and your mother too she did the same, and we took you from him, or rather acquiesced the more gladly in your removal, lest he should infect you with his fanatical notions, for such we then called them, lest he should make you as much a child of God

as he is himself, and now we have our punishment ;" and my poor father, as he spoke, rose in haste, and leaning his head against the mantle piece, groaned aloud.

When a little recovered, he informed me that he was going on to my brother's school, and should have to travel all night, and that I must be put that very day into the coach, to be carried home, in order that I might administer some comfort to my miserable mother.

Who is there who has lived any time in the gay world, and has ever taken delight in its vain pleasures, who has not experienced the horrors of being suddenly awakened from dreams of unprincipled gaiety, to the real miseries of human life? If afflictions find a person in a sober and pious state of mind, they bring their consolations with them, but when they fall upon the selfish, and the inconsiderate, they fall without one drop of consolation.

Oh! how dreadful, how inexpressibly dreadful, were those long and weary hours that I spent in the coach, which was to convey, me home. I was, however, slightly relieved when I met my mother, by finding, that by a letter received by the last post, my brother had been rather better. Owing to this letter, and to my excessive fatigue, I got a comfortable night, which prepared me for what was to follow, for the next day. my mother received another letter, informing us, that there was little hope, and that not a moment was to be lost if ever she wished to see her son again. As his fever was of an infectious nature, my mother would not hear of my accompanying her in her journey, and in consequence, within two hours of the receipt of that letter, my mother had set out alone, and I was left at my solitary home, under the charge of servants, one of whom having been my nurse, paid me every possible attention; this excellent person had also been the nurse of Adolphus, and was attached to that sweet child as if she had been his own natural mother, and in one respect she was the happiest amongst us, inasmuch as she had often hearkened to his gentle entreaties, that she would take thought for her soul, and had, at his request, committed several hymns and verses to her memory.

I was more than a week with the nurse, before any decided

change took place in our dreadful situation. During that time we had letters every day from my father, sometimes raising our hopes a little, and then sinking us into utter despair. It was the autumn, the wind was whistling, the leaves dropping, and a drizzly rain falling perpetually; at length, I remember well, it was a Monday morning, the rain had passed, and the sun was breaking out, we had received a letter late the night before, it spoke of some dreadful crisis near at hand; it was written in terms of the deepest depression, but my nurse remarked to me, that it was dictated in the true spirit of holy resignation. "The Almighty," said she, "is working with us all in his own way, and this sweet child is being made the instrument of leading us to God." But this letter, such as it was, deprived me of all hope, and I could think only of my Adolphus as already gone, as of a brother I once possessed, as of an angel I had formerly been permitted to hold converse with.

In this state of mind, finding the morning calm, I evaded the observation of my watchful nurse, and putting on my bonnet and cloak, I stole from the house and took the nearest way over the lawn, then crisped with frost, to the dingle, where I had spent so many happy hours during the last summer with my ever beloved Adolphus.

The dread of pursuit made me move rapidly, till I had descended into the dingle, and found myself on the bridge afore mentioned; there I stood to take breath, and looked towards the bower, in which my brother had prepared for me so many sweet repasts, of which at the time I only could enjoy the husks and shells; but ah, where was that sweet brother then? Extended, perhaps, cold and lifeless on the bed of death, silent for ever was that tongue, which was wont to fill the narrow glen with songs of praise, and dim those eyes which used to beam with the sweetest expressions of holy love and pity.

The very woods also seemed to partake of the change which had passed on my sweet brother; every leaf was drooping and faded, and the ground was strewed with the fallen memorials of the glories of the summer.

I proceeded to the bower, in that sort of temper which induces the miserable creature to drink the cup of woe to its

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