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"He has been dead three years," said Julie, and vantage of her silence, " will you not tell me what tears sprang to her eyes.

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Forgive me I did not mean to pain you." "His death," continued Julie, "prevented our voyage to Europe. When he was gone, I had no temptation to venture beyond the limits of my native land. I possessed independence, but I needed a friend, and in Mrs. Simmons, with whom I accidentally became acquainted, at the hotel where my father lodged, I found a very sincere one. After his death, I accepted her offer to receive me into her family as a governess-for she objects to the common modes of city education-and with her, for the sake of protection, I came hither."

"And what is become of dear old Mariechen ?" "You seem most accurately informed as to all that relates to me," said Julie, with a grave smile. "Mariechen is with me, in a new, and not a very useful capacity-lady's maid."

agreeable intelligence I am here to learn?"

"Oh! I will directly. Certainly, yes-but first can you remember having sung on Monday evening a very beautiful German song?"

"I was, I remember, singing a German song, which has associations for me."

"And I assure you for me also," said Mrs. Vere. Here," she added, hurriedly throwing open a piano, "just sing it once for me, without hesitation, or apology, for which I've now no time-ay, in your best style-and I'll tell you any thing in the world you I wish to know!"

Julie thought her hostess entirely out of her wits. Nevertheless, obedient to the haste of the impetuous lady, she played the symphony at once.

"Ah!" muttered Mrs. Vere, giving one more look from the window, "he has his hand upon the lock-it is open-he hears the air, and that stops

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"And now-are these Simmonses kind to you?" the accompaniment. The door flew open, and this was said aside.

"Exceedingly kind, indeed."

"What a host of young friends you are training up in the way they should go!' I suppose these are all of the infant Simmonses?"

"No, there is one still younger at home." "What is his name? he has one, hasn't he?" "He is called Adolphus Methuselah," said Julie, reluctantly.

Henry Pembroke entered. Julie started, and looked towards him. The recognition was of course instant. Mrs. Vere said not a word of greeting, but nodded triumphantly to Pembroke, as she left the room; delicately drawing the door after her as she did so, and actually taking the trouble to order her footman to admit no other guest during the evening.

When two or three hours had elapsed, Mrs. Vere

"I think Mrs. Simmons has more taste than any returned to her drawing room, looking extremely one I ever knew!"

Julie smiled. Theodolinda Anne, who, with her mouth open, had watched their whole progress towards intimacy, now broke in upon it.

"Mrs. Vere!"

“Well?"

unconscious, and under pretence of seeking for her work. She found events proceeding upon velvet. The brilliancy of Julie's eyes and color was really exquisite, and Pembroke looked ten times handsomer than ever, now that the cloud upon his face was displaced by sunshine. Mrs. Vere had man

"Were you laughing at us in the confectioner's aged too discreetly to feel herself one too many. shop the other day?"

"I My dear child, what a naughty idea!" "I was sure you were not," said Theodolinda Anne, in a tone which showed how much she was relieved by this ingenious evasion.

"Miss Brunfels," she said, when Julie rose to return home, "I have a plan for you." "Indeed?-what is it?"

"Why I have a charming room up stairs--just the cage to hold a singing bird-and I long to have it occupied. Can you not leave the Simmonses to train their own young ideas, and come and be my guest awhile?"

"Remember this evening!" said Mrs. Vere, turning to Julie. "And now farewell, one and all." In the evening Julie appeared at Mrs. Vere's. That lady resumed her old seat at the window, and seemed to gaze down the street, at intervals, with extreme interest. She talked, however, of a hundred different things-ran on most volubly-touched upon Virginia, and her recollections were brought forward in a voice full of tenderness-found her way back to Philadelphia, and one would have fan-own young ideas' as soon as"cied, from the levity of her discourse, that she had no heart at all. Presently as she still continued to

Pembroke, very officiously, took it upon himself at once to recommend the scheme. Young men are sometimes dreadfully presuming.

"These Simmonses," answered Julie, smiling, were kind to me when I had no other friends. Will it be quite proper to leave them, 'to train their

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Quite proper, I think!" interrupted Mrs. Vere. "And so do I," said Pembroke.

"But," replied Julie, "I am afraid I could not specimen of that floral creation, in which the Orisatisfy my own heart of the propriety of such a entals are so fond of indulging.

measure. No-I fear I must continue in office until another governess can be found."

"I shall call upon Mrs. Simmons, then," said Mrs. Vere," and settle the point myself."

And now, reader, is there any thing more that you would learn? No, for your sagacity has already out-ran my pen. You have already foreseen the removal of Julie to the house of Mrs. Verethe wedding preparations-the bridal itself, and the departure of the happy couple for the south. You have also discovered that Mariechen was installed as housekeeper, as soon as they settled down' in their country establishment, and that the elder Mrs. Pembroke, after a time, perfectly doted upon her daughter-in-law. You have farther guessed that Mr. and Mrs. Vere paid a visit to their friends regularly every year, but, perhaps, you may not have anticipated the fortunate fact, that Mrs. Vere, in one of her last visits, obtained a sight of the violin of Mr. Brunfels, and found within its green baize cover, which Pembroke had never had courage to remove, a small note-book, containing a thousand and one English proverbs, all copied out fairly in the hand-writing of Mr. B., with a concluding eulogy upon the wisdom and wit comprehended in this species of literature.

T. H. E.

ARABIAN LITERATURE.

PAPER THIRD.

THE HAMASA.

In the year of the Hejira, 208, Abu Teman made a collection of Arabian poetry in ten books-consisting of Odes, Epigrams and Elegies, which was called the Hamasa. A supplement to this work, entitled the Lesser Hamasa, was compiled A. H., 258, by Bochteri. Embraced in the Hamasa, are the seven celebrated poems called the Moallakat, or the Suspended, blazoned in gold upon the gate of the Caaba, in Mecca. But as it will be better to devote a separate paper to them, we will give in chronological order some of the lesser poems of the Hamasa, with short sketches of their authors.

ABD ALMALEC.

Abd Almalec was a native of Arabia Felix, and lived about the middle of the fifth century. Of the varied productions of his pen, his poem on the tomb of Sayid is all that has survived the wreck of time. This however is sufficient to endear his memory, as it is the eloquent outburst of nature at the tomb of a friend. The fifth verse is a fine

THE TOMB OF SAYID.
Blest are the tenants of the tomb;
With envy I their lot survey,
For Sayid shares the solemn gloom
And mingles with their mouldering clay.

Dear youth! I'm doomed thy loss to mours,
When gathering ills around combine,
And whither now shall Malec turn-
Where look for any help but thine?
At this dread moment when the foe

My life with rage insatiate seeks
In vain I strive to ward the blow,

My buckler falls-my sabre breaks.
Upon thy grassy tomb I knelt,
And sought from pain a short relief-
The attempt was vain--I only felt
Intenser pangs and livelier grief.
The bud of woe no more represt,

Fed by the tears that drenched it there
Shot forth and filled my laboring breast,
Ready to blossom in despair.

But tho' of Sayid I'm bereft

From whom the stream of bounty came,
Sarjed a nobler meed has left-

The exhaustless heritage of fame.
Tho' mute the lips on which I hung,

Their silence speaks more loud to me
Than any voice from mortal tongue,
"What Sayid was let Malec be."

HASSAN ALASADY.

In the different species of composition this writer distinguished himself among the earliest Arabían poets. The lines on Manno, with the excep tion of some little extravagances, are very beautiful; and are an eulogy no less than an elegy on that noble-hearted and generous chief. The happy effects, and the undying fame of a virtuous and benevolent life, are described in most apposite and felicitous language.

MANNO.

Friends of my heart who share my sighs,
Go seek the turf where Manno lies,
And woo the dewy clouds of Spring,
To sweep it with prolific wing.

Within that cell, beneath that heap,
Friendship and Truth and Honor sleep.
Beneficence that used to clasp
The world within her ample grasp
There rests entombed-of thought bercft;-
For were one conscious atom left
'Twould yearn new blessings to display,
Burst from the grave and seek the day.

But tho' in dust thy ashes lie
Thy virtues, Manno, ne'er shall die;
Tho' Nile's full stream be seen no more,
That spread his waves from shore to shore,
Still in the verdure of the plain
His vivifying smiles remain.

MESKIN ALDARAMY.

This poet flourished about the year 500. In his lines on Friendship, there is a grace and beauty that captivates us; and we regret that so few of his sketches have been preserved to our time. They would have formed a precious carcanet worthy of all that enthusiastic admiration which he expresses for his "wreath of pearls."

FRIENDSHIP.

With conscious pride I view the band
Of faithful friends that round me stand-
With pride exult that I alone

Can join these scattered gems in one:
For they're a wreath of pearls, and I
The silken cord on which they lie.
"Tis mine their inmost soul to see;
Unlocked is every heart to me;
To me they cling-on me they rest,
And I've a place in every breast;

For they're a wreath of pearls, and I
The silken cord on which they lie.

ABOU ALY.

Abou Aly was a distinguished mathematician and astronomer; but while contemplating the celestial orbs, he was not insensible to the stars of earth: he was a most fervent worshipper at the shrine of woman-and did not employ her delicate fingers, like the cold-hearted Newton, to stir the embers of his tobacco pipe. In sooth he is a most mathematical lover, as the following verses will abundantly testify. He flourished in the Christian Era, 530.

THE FAIR.

I never knew a sprightly fair

That was not dear to me,

And freely I my heart could share With every one I see.

It is not this or that alone

On whom my choice would fall;
I do not more incline to one
Than I incline to all.

The circle's bounding line are they,
Its centre is my heart;
My ready love the equal ray
That tends to every part.

JAAFER BEN ABLA.

Jaafer Ben Abba was one of the best poets of his time. Nor was he less skilled in the use of the sabre than the reed: for he led as well as inspired many of the battles that took place between the tribes before the spread of Mohammedism. In the verses which follow, we perceive all the fire and enthusiasm of the battle-field, and note the sanguinary spirit which distinguished these feuds. The bold antithesis of the second and last verses will commend them to the reader.

THE BATTLE OF SABLA.

Sabla, thou saw'st the exulting foe
In fancied triumphs crowned;

Thou heardst their frantic females throw
These galling taunts around.

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"Make now your choice-the terms we give Desponding victims hear;

These fetters on your hands receive,

Or in your hearts the spear."
"And is the conflict o'er," we cried,
"And lie we at your feet?
And dare you vauntingly decide
The fortune we must meet?
"A brighter day we soon shall see,
Tho' now the prospect lowers,
And conquest, peace and liberty
Shall gild our future hours."

The foe advanced-in firm array-
We rushed o'er Sabla's sands,
And the red sabre marked our way
Amidst their broken bands.

Then as they writhed in death's cold grasp,
We cried "Our choice is made,

These hands the sabre's hilt shall clasp,
Your hearts shall have the blade."

ABU SAHER.

Abu Saher was one of the oldest Arabian poets. The period in which he lived cannot be exactly determined; but it was long anterior to the promulgation of the Koran, as will be seen by the reference to the Manah-a superstition. The precise time in which this writer lived cannot be determined; but it is certain that he was one of the oldest Arabian poets. The introduction of the Manah in the annexed poem-a superstition of the ancient Arabians-is sufficient to establish its antiquity. The Koran strongly denounced the belief in the Manah; and it soon ceased to hold a place among the airy fancies of the people, although it appears to me that it might have been retained with less injury to the poetry and religion of the Faithful, than many others which were introduced. The Manah was a bird supposed to issue from the brain, at death, and to hover over the grave of the departed till the resurrection. The poet, in the poem which we subjoin, does not only vow love till death, but after death.

TO LEILA.

Dost thou wonder that I flew
Charmed to meet my Leila's view?
Dost thou wonder that I hung
Raptured on my Leila's tongue?—
If her ghost's funereal screech
Thro' the earth my grave should reach,
On that voice I loved so well
My transported ghost should dwell:
If in death I can descry
Where my Leila's ashes lie,
Saher's dust will flit away,
There to join his Leila's clay.

HATEM TAI.

Hatem Tai was a chief who lived before Mohammed, no less distinguished for his generosity and hospitality than for his valor. Many acts of his are recounted of the most unbounded liberality.

As a poet he attracted some attention, but won | Ben Said's teeth were put in, and still nothing de"golden opinions" from all ranks of men by the finite determined, I would suggest the propriety of solid advantages he conferred. His tribe took a referring the whole matter to the College of Dendecided stand against the new faith when Moham-tal Surgery for adjudication; leaving the historical med arose; and when they had fallen into his hands, fact to be embodied as an episode in the second he resolved to put all to death except the daughter edition of that very clever poem, "Dentologia." of Hatem Tai, who was spared on account of her The reader will agree with me in thinking, that the father's virtues. But when she declared that she following verses must have been written after some would sooner perish than survive her tribe, Moham- of Nabegat's senses were gone, whatever the state med relented and stayed the exterminating sabre. of his teeth might have been. The following poem will afford an illustration of his ability as a writer:

LIBERALITY.

How frail are riches and their joys!
Morn builds the heap which eve destroys;
Yet can they leave one sure delight-
The thought that we've employed them right.

What bliss can wealth afford to me
When life's last solemn hour I see;
When Mara's sympathizing sighs
Will but augment my agonies?

Can hoarded gold dispel the gloom-
That death must shed around the tomb?
Or cheer the ghost which hovers there,
And fills with shrieks the desert air?

What boots it, Mara, in the grave
Whether I loved to waste or save?
The hand that millions now can grasp
In death no more than mine can clasp.
Were I ambitious to behold
Increasing stores of treasured gold,
Each tribe that roves the desert knows
1 might be wealthy if I chose.

But other joys can gold impart,
Far other wishes warm my heart-
Ne'er shall I strive to swell the heap
Till want and woe have ceased to weep.

With brow unaltered I can see
The hour of wealth or poverty:
I've drunk from both the cups of fate,
Nor this could sink, nor that elate.
With fortune blest I ne'er was found
To look with scorn on those around-
Nor for the loss of paltry ore
Shall Hatem seem to Hatem poor.

NABEGAT BEN SAID.

THE PROTEST.

Yes, Leila, I swore by the fire of thine eyes
I ne'er could a sweetness unvaried endure;
The bubbles of spirit that sparkling arise,

Forbid life to stagnate, and render it pure.
But yet, my dear maid, tho' thy spirit's my pride,
I'd wish for some sweetness to temper the bowl;

If life be ne'er suffered to rest or subside,
It may not be vapid, but wont it be foul?

ISAAC BEN KHALIF.

The compositions of this writer were generally of a facetious nature. The epigramatic point of the following may perhaps reach some of our modern whiskerandoes.

THE MAN WITH THE LONG BEARD.
How can thy chin that burden bear?
Is it all gravity to shock?

Is it to make the people stare?
And be thyself a laughing stock?
When I behold thy little feet
After thy beard obsequious run,

I always fancy that I meet

Some father followed by his son.

A man like thee scarce e'er appeared;
A beard like thine-where shall we find it?
Surely thou cherishest thy beard

In hopes to hide thyself behind it.

We conclude the present paper by a gem of great worth. In the whole treasury of Grecian epigrams there is nothing superior to it. Translations have been made of it into the different languages of the East.

EPIGRAM.

When born, in tears we saw thee drowned,
While thy assembled friends around

With smiles their joy confessed;
So live, that at thy parting hour
They may the flood of sorrow pour,
And thou in smiles be drest.

This writer was contemporary with Mohammed, who greatly admired his talents, and loved his virtues. Meeting him in his old age, the prophet accosted him with the salutation "May God preserve thy mouth," when immediately all the teeth in his head, which were loose, became suddenly firm, and retained their place till the day of his death. Some of the Mohammedan doctors have contended that on the salutation of the prophet, he immediately re- A poet must exaggerate his subject into an importance ceived a new set of teeth; while others as ob-adapted to his purpose. If his subject be mean, he must stinately maintain that his molares were only es- dignify it by gathering lofty associations about it. A pleas tablished in their position. As many quires of ant girl may be a fine subject for a poet, but in order to make her win the admiration of his readers, the poet must endow papyrus were filled with the learned disquisitions of the theologians, and some teeth knocked out in the conceal all the homelier associations to which in real life her with graces superior to her condition, and scrupulously fierce strife about the manner in which Nabegat' she is subjected.

Subjects of Poetry.

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1 am among "The Isles of Greece,
Where burning Sappho loved and sung;
Where grew the arts of war and peace;
Where Delos rose, and Phoebus sprung."

Our voyage here was one of those pleasant passages in life, round which fancy lingers as a dream, rather than a reality. Soon after we left Salonica, we found ourselves with the gentlest seas and softest breeze of a perfumed Eastern spring, floating between Olympus, the home of gods and pirates, and Athos, the retreat of priests and learning. We ran so near the coast, that we had a clear view of the fair Pierian regions, and saw the soft vale of Tempe, just shadowed out between Olympus and Ossa; and I almost imagined I could hear the liquid murmuring of the bright waters of the Peneus. We were never out of sight of land; while each scene awoke the undying associations with which genius and poetry have encircled them, or

charmed us with that unfading beauty which still glows over the "old poetic mountains" and bright isles of Greece. And, to give a shadow of romance to our delightful voyage, we thought once we should be attacked by pirates; and enjoyed that rather agreeable excitation, which makes danger a pleasure, if it does not come too near. But the pirate boat, if such it was, veered off at the firing of a pistol; and we lay on our uninterrupted course to this my sea-girt home for the summer. Our first adventure after landing, was an imprisonment of ten days in the quarantine of Tenos, to purify ourselves from the possibility of introducing the plague into the kingdom of Greece. And what is something new in the records of a traveller, I did not find my life there disagreeable. The lazaretto is new and clean, and is in an open, pleasant situation. The buildings, which are commodious and extensive, are one story high, surrounding a large square, into which all the doors and windows open, and where the temporary prisoners take air and exercise, attended by guards, to prevent all personal contact. Our rooms were separated from those of the public by high palings, that left us a private walk, which we enjoyed very much in the bright moonlight evenings, as we listened to the songs of the light-hearted Greeks, in the open square. I did not find myself at any loss for amusement. Every day we had visiters, whom we received in the court; among them, the governor of the island-a very nice gentleman-who furnished me with books and flowers. And the superintendent of the quarantine was also very kind, and entrusted us with the key of a door that opened upon the sea. So we spent the cool of the afternoon in wandering over the rocks, and gathering small shells and beautiful sea-weed from the clear shallow waters. But our highest pleasure was in gazing from the rocks upon the many islands that crown the blue waters, and look so dreamy and spiritual, as they float in their evening robes of purple and rosetinted mists,

"Where the god of gladness sheds his parting smile."

After telling you of the charms of our quarantine life, I must add, that we lived in two rooms with ground floors, and bare stone walls. But really, the time passed so rapidly and pleasantly, that I might have fallen in love with the ground floor and a life of poverty, had I been as ignorant of life as the French princess, who being forced by accident once to dine on bread and cheese, wondered that the peasants should complain so much of starvation, for she was sure bread and cheese was very good.

I find my residence at Tenos very pleasant. We are in a large airy house, with three sides open to the sea; and I have full opportunity for enjoying all the varieties of life and nature. My terrace hangs over the wharf, where the boats land their goods and passengers, and I see many odd scenes and people and am serenaded nightly by the gay songs of the Greek boatmen.

I find the people of Tenos peculiarly mild and hospitable. The women are considered the most beautiful in Greece, and the climate is delightful. Though it is not one of those islands hallowed by classic associations, it has historical reminiscences of the Middle Ages, and traces of the Venetian reign, quite sufficient to excite interest. It was long considered one of the most important military positions that Venice held in these seas, from its central position in a group of islands, and the strength of its fortress-the remains of which still mantle a hill back of the tower. The domination of the Venetians, though in some respects advanta

*A short time after we reached Tenos, the Greek admiral, the famous Kanaris, attacked a gang of pirates, in the seas through which we passed, captured a number of them, and drove the remainder upon Mount Athos; where they fell into the hands of the Turks.

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