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i 
 
VISION OF MIRZA. 
 
 rftc hYW ,r? thou .rest/ said ho, ' is human life ; consider it attentively.' " 
 
LIGHT FROM THE EAST. 
 
 TALES, 
 
 ORIENTAL ORIGIN OR CHARACTER, 
 
 WITH NOTES AND INTRODUCTIONS, HISTORICAL AND SUGGESTIVE. 
 
 ILLUSTRATED AND COMPILED BY 
 
 GEORGE MEASOM, 
 
 AUTHOR OF 
 
 THE OFFICIAL ILLUSTRATED RAILWAY GUIDES. 
 THE DESIGNS FOR THE ENGRAVINGS BY KENNY MEADOWS. 
 
 LONDON : 
 DARTON AND CO,, HOLBORN HILL, 
 
London : Printed by D. M. Aird, 18, Exeter- street, Strand. 
 
8 £3,0 S 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 REAT changes in the taste of the Bri- 
 tish public in almost every pursuit, have 
 passed since the production of the seve- 
 ral Works from which the contents of 
 this Volume are derived, and it may be 
 remarked that the reading taste of this 
 utilitarian age has led to the neglect 
 of those efforts of genius th$t contri- 
 buted to the amusement and instruction 
 of our fathers : — the names of Addison, Hawkesworth, Steele, 
 and other of our essayists, are now rarely mentioned. The 
 Rambler, Idler, Spectator, Bee, &c, are seldom to be met 
 with on the shelves of modern collectors of books. The rea- 
 son for this may be found in the fact that the larger portion 
 of the contents of the works alluded to, is devoted to the 
 correction of the evils of society, that no longer 
 exist in those particular phases. Still the British Essayists 
 have many lessons of wisdom, in the form of tale or fable, 
 
 618646 
 
11. 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 which are applicable to all time; and, amongst them, are 
 some of Oriental character, generally clothed with the gor- 
 geous imagery of the East, and they thus serve to ex- 
 hibit the power of our native language, to convey a life- 
 like picture of the habits and manners of the Arab and 
 the Moslem. The taste that prevailed for reading only what 
 was useful and profitable having wearied, the appetite of 
 the great mass of the public sought relief in stimulants 
 which the Trench school of Dumas and Sand, with its 
 numerous imitators, readily supplied ; and, as happily in 
 most cases, when left to themselves, the people get right 
 at last, the vendors of this mental poison have begun to 
 find it a losing trade. 
 
 Recurring to those fountains of truth from whence, in our 
 early days, we drew draughts of inspiration, and our me- 
 mory dwelling on the interest with which our mind was 
 impressed with the fate of imaginary heroes and heroines, 
 as well as the golden dreams of happiness and splendour, 
 which the fairy palaces and exhaustless treasures of the East 
 presented to our imagination, we have in this Volume selected 
 a few of those moral narratives, in the belief that the youth 
 of the present day will look with favour on those delights of 
 our own boyhood. 
 
 The whole of the Tales are the productions of Euro- 
 pean authors, and they embody all that ingenious fiction, 
 splendid imagery, and supernatural agency, skilfully intro- 
 duced, which characterise all really Oriental stories ; and, 
 
PKEFACE. 
 
 111. 
 
 like them, convey morality, not in the austere form of im- 
 perative precept and dictatorial aphorism, but in the more 
 pleasing shape of example. Let us, however, not be misun- 
 derstood ; we do not desire to depreciate the efforts of those 
 who approach the hearts of the young by the direct road ; 
 but, knowing by experience, there are many who seek to 
 while away the passing hours of leisure in the gardens of 
 fiction, we venture to hope that this attempt to strew flowers 
 in the paths of truth, will not be thrown away. There is a 
 morality of idea not arranged in a system of principles in 
 regular order, but the result of lessons, examples, and acci- 
 dental associations of pleasure and pain, acted upon by events 
 or narratives that have impressed us with admiration, pity, 
 or indignant resentment, which, in conveying to us moral 
 truths, have so impressed them on our hearts that they 
 have become indelibly fixed there. 
 
 Charrington-street, St. Pancras, 
 November, 1856. 
 
♦ 
 
 
 PAGE. 
 
 AUTHOR, OR SOURCE. 
 
 The Vision of Mirza 
 
 1 
 
 • Addison. 
 
 The Story of Fadlallah . 
 
 9 
 
 Persian Tales. 
 
 The Talisman or Oromanes 
 
 18 
 
 Ridley. 
 
 The Mercy or Affliction 
 
 54 
 
 Warton. 
 
 The Hall of Silence 
 
 61 
 
 . Anon. 
 
 
 74 
 
 Hawkesworth. 
 
 The Diamond of the Desert 
 
 82 
 
 . Anon. 
 
 Sadak and Kalasrade 
 
 105 
 
 Ridley. 
 
 The Story of Hassan 
 
 176 
 
 Hawkesworth. 
 
 The City of Demons 
 
 184 
 
 Maginn. 
 
I. 
 
 Ik $mtm of glim. 
 
 NGLISH literature, throughout its whole range, 
 possesses no writer of which the country has 
 so great cause for pride as the author of the 
 piece with which our volume opens. 
 
 J oseph Addison, the son of the Eev. Lancelot 
 Addison, a clergyman of great learning, was 
 born at Milston, in Wiltshire, on the 1st of 
 May, 1672, his father being at that time the 
 rector; he afterwards became the Dean of 
 Lichfield. At the age of fifteen Joseph was sent 
 to Oxford, and in two years obtained a scholar- 
 ship in Magdalen College. He gave early 
 proof of poetic talent in some translations from 
 the Latin. His first effort in English verse were some lines to 
 Dryden, written in his 23rd year. Some complimentary verses to 
 Lord Keeper Somers and King William III., were means of pro- 
 curing a pension of 300Z. a year, and, thus provided, he set out on a 
 tour to Italy. The death of the King, in 1702, depriving him of his pen- 
 sion, he returned to England. The u Victory of Blenheim " was deemed 
 by the Ministry deserving a poem to celebrate its glories, and Addison 
 was applied to ; the result was, 14 The Campaign," a poem of nearly five 
 hundred lines, which so gratified the Minister, Godolphin, that he ap- 
 pointed the author to a Commissionership. 
 
 In 1716 Addison married the Countess Dowager of Warwick, but the 
 union was not a happy one. The year succeeding he was appointed one 
 of the principal Secretaries of State. He died at Holland House, 
 June 17, 1719. 
 
 In connection with Steele he was engaged on the "Tatler," but the 
 work by which Addison has immortalised himself is the «' Spectator," of 
 
 B 
 
2 
 
 LIGHT FROM THE EAST. 
 
 which, out of 635 papers, he contributed 274. As an English prose 
 writer he is unsurpassed, and his merits need no other testimony than 
 the emphatic summary of Johnson — " As a describer of life and manners 
 he must be allowed to stand, perhaps the first, of the first rank. As a 
 teacher of wisdom he may be confidently followed ; all the enchantments 
 of fancy, and all the cogency of argument are employed by him to re- 
 commend to the reader his real interest — the care of pleasing the Author 
 of his Being. Truth is shown sometimes as a phantom of a vision ; 
 sometimes appeared half- veiled in an allegory; sometimes attracts 
 regard in the robes of fancy ; and sometimes steps forth in the confidence 
 of reason. She wears a thousand dresses, and in all is pleasing. Who- 
 ever wishes to attain an English style, familiar, but not coarse, and 
 elegant, but not ostentatious, must give his days and nights to the 
 volumes of Addison." 
 
 The " Vision of Mirza," which is an excellent specimen of the author's 
 style, is the 159th paper of the " Spectator;" and, as a comprehensive 
 picture of human life, it is unequalled by anything in the English lan- 
 guage. The difficulties that beset us here, and the rewards and punish- 
 ments of everlasting life are eloquently delineated* 
 
THE VISION" OF MIEZA. 
 
 The cloud which, intercepting the clear light, 
 
 Hangs o'er the eyes, and blunts thy mortal sight, 
 
 I will remove — Yirgil, Mx. II. 
 
 On the fifth day of the moon, which, according to the 
 custom of my forefathers, I always keep holy, after having 
 washed myself and offered up my morning devotions, I 
 ascended the high hills of Bagdad, in order to spend the rest 
 of the day in meditation and prayer. As I was here airing 
 myself on the tops of the mountains, I fell into a profound 
 contemplation on the vanity of human life ; and, passing from 
 one thought to another, surely, said I, man is but a shadow, 
 and life a dream. "Whilst I was thus musing, I cast my eyes 
 towards the summit of a rock that was not far from me, where 
 I discovered one in the habit of a shepherd, with a little 
 musical instrument in his hand. As I looked upon him he 
 applied it to his lips and began to play upon it. The sound 
 of it was exceeding sweet, and wrought into a variety of tunes 
 that were inexpressibly melodious and altogether different from 
 anything I had ever heard : they put me in mind of those 
 heavenly airs that are played to the departed souls of good 
 men upon their first arrival in paradise, to wear out the im- 
 pressions of the last agonies and qualify them for the pleasures 
 of that happy place. My heart melted away in secret 
 raptures. 
 
 I had been often told that the rock before me was the 
 haunt of a genius ; and that several had been entertained with 
 that music who had passed by it, but never heard that the 
 
 b 2 
 
4 
 
 LIGHT FROM THE EAST. 
 
 musician had before made himself visible. When he had 
 raised my thoughts by those transporting airs which he played 
 to taste the pleasures of his conversation, as I looked upon him 
 like one astonished, he beckoned to me, and by the waving of 
 his hand directed me to approach the place where he sat. I 
 drew near with that reverence that is due to a superior nature ; 
 and, as my heart was entirely subdued by the captivating 
 strains I had heard, I fell down at his feet and wept. The 
 genius smiled upon me with a look of compassion and affabi- 
 lity that familiarised him to my imagination, and at once dis- 
 pelled all the fears and apprehensions with which I approached 
 him. He lifted me from the ground, and, taking me by the 
 hand, " Mirza," said he, " I have heard thee in thy soliloquies ; 
 follow me." 
 
 He then led me to the highest pinnacle of the rock, and, 
 placing me on the top of it, " Cast thy eyes eastward," said he, 
 and tell me what thou seest." "I see," said I, "a huge valley 
 and a prodigious tide of water rolling through it." " The 
 valley that thou seest," said he, " is the vale of misery, * and 
 the tide of water that thou seest is part of the great tide of 
 eternity." " What is the reason," said I, " that the tide I 
 see rises out of a thick mist at one end, and again loses itself 
 in a thick mist at the other ?" " What thou seest," said he, 
 " is that portion of eternity which is called time, measured out 
 by the sun, and reaching from the beginning of the world to 
 its consummation. Examine now," said he, " this sea that is 
 bounded with darkness at both ends, and tell me what thou 
 discoverest in it." I see a bridge," said I, " standing in the 
 midst of the tide." " The bridge thou seest," said he, " is 
 human life ; consider it attentively." Upon a more leisurely 
 survey of it, I found that it consisted of threescore and ten 
 entire arches, with several broken arches, which, added to those 
 
THE VISION OF MIRZA. 
 
 that were entire, made up the number about an hundred. As 
 I was counting the arches, the genius told me that this bridge 
 consisted at first of a thousand arches ; but that a great flood 
 swept away the rest, and left the bridge in the ruinous condi- 
 tion I beheld it : " but tell me further/' said he, " what thou 
 discoverest on it." " I see multitudes of people passing over 
 it," said I, " and a black cloud hanging on each end of it." 
 As I looked more attentively, I saw several of the passengers 
 dropping through the bridge into the great tide that flowed 
 underneath it ; and, upon further examination, perceived the re 
 were innumerable trap-doors that lay concealed in the bridge, 
 which the passengers no sooner trod upon, but they fell through 
 them into the tide and immediately disappeared. These hidden 
 pit-falls were set very thick at the entrance of the bridge, so 
 that throngs of people no sooner broke through the cloud, but 
 many of them fell into them. They grew thinner towards the 
 middle, but multiplied and lay closer together towards the end 
 of the arches that were entire. 
 
 There were, indeed, some persons, but their number was 
 very small, that continued a kind of hobbling march on the 
 broken arches, but fell through one after another, being quite 
 tired and spent with so long a walk. 
 
 I passed some time in the contemplation of this wonderful 
 structure, and the great variety of objects which it presented. 
 My heart was filled with a deep melancholy to see several 
 dropping unexpectedly in the midst of mirth and jollity, and 
 catching at everything that stood by them to save themselves. 
 Some were looking up towards the heavens in a thoughtful 
 posture, and in the midst of a speculation stumbled and fell 
 out of sight. Multitudes were very busy in the pursuit of 
 bubbles that glittered in their eyes and danced before them ; 
 but often, when they thought themselves within reach, their 
 
6 
 
 LIGHT FROM THE EAST. 
 
 footing failed, and down they sank. In this confusion of 
 objects, I observed some with scimitars in their hands, and 
 who ran to and fro upon the bridge, thrusting several persons 
 upon trap-doors which did not seem to lie in their way, and 
 which they might have escaped had they not been thus forced 
 upon them. 
 
 The genius seeing me indulge myself in this melancholy 
 prospect, told me I had dwelt long enough upon it. " Take 
 thine eyes off the bridge," said he, " and tell me if thou seest 
 anything thou dost not comprehend." Upon looking up, 
 " What mean," said I, " those great flights of birds that are 
 perpetually hovering about the bridge, and settling upon it 
 from time ? I see vultures, harpies, ravens, cormorants, and, 
 among many other feathered creatures, several little winged 
 boys that perch in great numbers upon the middle arches." 
 " These," said the genius, "are envy, avarice, superstition, 
 despair, love, with the like cares and passions that invest 
 human life." 
 
 " I here fetched a deep sigh: "Alas!" said I, "man was 
 made in vain ! how is he given away to misery and mortality ! 
 tortured in life, and swallowed up in death !" The genius 
 being moved with compassion towards me, bid me quit so un- 
 comfortable a prospect. " Look no more," said he, u on a man 
 in the first stage of his existence, in his setting out for eternity ; 
 but cast thine eye on that thick mist into which the tide bears 
 the several generations of mortals that fall into it." I directed 
 my sight as I was ordered, and (whether or no the good genius 
 strengthened it with any supernatural force, or dissipated part 
 of the mist that was before too thick for the eye to penetrate) 
 I saw the valley opening at the further end, and spreading forth 
 into an immense ocean, that had a huge rock of adamant run- 
 ning through the midst of it, and dividing it into two equal 
 
THE VISION OF MIKZA. 
 
 7 
 
 parts. The clouds still rested on one half of it, insomuch that 
 I could discover nothing in it : but the other appeared to me 
 a vast ocean planted with innumerable islands, that were covered 
 with fruits and flowers, and interwoven with a thousand little 
 shining seas that ran among them. I could see persons 
 dressed in glorious habits, with garlands upon their heads, 
 passing among the trees, lying down by the sides of fountains, 
 or resting on beds of flowers ; and could hear a confused har- 
 mony of singing-birds, falling waters, human voices, and 
 musical instruments. Gladness grew in me at the discovery 
 of so delightful a scene. I wished for the wings of an eagle, 
 that I might fly away to those happy seats ; but the genius 
 told me there was no passage to them except through the 
 gates of death that I saw opening every moment upon the 
 bridge. " The islands, said he, that lie so fresh and green 
 before thee, and with which the whole face , of the "ocean ap- 
 pears spotted as far as thou canst see, are more in number 
 than the sands on the sea-shore ; there are myriads of islands 
 behind those which thou here discoverest, reaching further than 
 thine eye, or even thine imagination can extend itself. These 
 are the mansions of good men after death, who, according to 
 the degree and kinds of virtue in which they excelled, are dis- 
 tributed among these several islands, which abound with 
 pleasures of different kinds and degrees, suitable to the relishes 
 and perfections of those who are settled in them ; every island 
 is a paradise accommodated to its respective inhabitants. Are 
 not these, Oh ! Mirza, habitations worth contending for ? Does 
 life appear miserable, that gives thee opportunities of earning 
 such a reward ? Is death to be feared, that will convey thee to so 
 happy an existence ? Think not man was made in vain, who 
 has such an eternity reserved for him." I gazed with inex- 
 pressible pleasure on these happy islands. At length, said L 
 
8 
 
 LIGHT FROM THE EAST. 
 
 " Show me now, I beseech thee, the secrets that lie hid under 
 those dark clouds which cover the ocean on the other side of 
 the rock of adamant." The genius making me no answer, I 
 turned about to address myself to him a second time, but I 
 found that he had left me : I then turned again to the vision 
 which I had been so long contemplating j but, instead of the 
 rolling tide, the arched bridge, and the happy islands, I saw 
 nothing but the long hollow valley of Bagdad, with oxen, 
 sheep, and camels, grazing upon the sides of it. 
 
 Of the mighty capitals of Eastern splendour that the Oriental story- 
 tellers describe in their glowing language (save only Damascus) Bagdad 
 alone retains any actual existence ; it is still a large city, and the metro- 
 polis of the extensive pachalic that bears its name. 
 
 The external appearance of the city does not disappoint the expecta- 
 tions which may have been formed from eastern history and romance. 
 It stands in a forest of date trees, which conceal the meanness of its 
 buildings from the approaching stranger, but allow such glimpses of the 
 splendid minarets and domes as prevent him from suspecting the ancient 
 glory of Bagdad has entirely departed ; but the interior miserably dis - 
 appoints the expectations which the exterior may have raised. The 
 streets are narrow and tortuous, unpaved, full of inequalities, occasioned 
 by the deposits of rubbish, and rendered disgusting by dead carcases and 
 all manner of filth. 
 
 It exhibits scarcely any remnant of the gay and romantic splendour of 
 the Court of the Caliphs — not a vestige of their palaces remain, nor of 
 many of their costly edifices, when Bagdad was the capital of the Maho- 
 metan world. The chief existing monuments of that period, are the 
 gates and towers, which, even in decay, far surpasses any of modern 
 erection. The tomb of Zobeide and some minarets remain. 
 
THE VISION OF MIRZA. 
 
 9 
 
 There are, however, some residences of the wealthy inhabitants, whose 
 internal decorations present a striking contrast to the filthy and beggarly 
 aspect of the streets ; the walls of the state and family apartments are 
 profusely decorated with gilding and painting ; inlaid mirrors and the 
 coloured glass of the windows contribute to make the impression 
 stronger. 
 
 The whole surface of the country is flat, the banks of the river alone 
 having any elevation; the mountains exist only in the writer's 
 imagination. 
 
II. 
 
 after having premised 
 
 HIS story is one of the Persian Tales, trans- 
 lated from the French, by Ambrose Philips. 
 Philips was a friend of Addison's, and the 
 tale is quoted in the 578th number of the 
 Spectator. Addison had previously bestowed 
 praise on Philips' " Pastoral?," and his 
 tragedy of the "Distrest Mother. ,, Philips 
 died of palsy, 1749, in his 78th year. Th e 
 story is thus introduced : — 
 
 u There has been very great reason, on 
 several accounts, for the learned world to 
 endeavour at settling what it was that might 
 be said to compose personal identity. Locke, 
 that the word person properly signifies a 
 thinking, intelligent being, that has reason and reflection, and can 
 consider itself as itself, contends that it is consciousness alone, and 
 not an identity of substance, which this personal identity of sameness. 
 
 "The doctrine of metempsychosis, or transmigration of souls, forms 
 a part of the belief of many nations. The Hindoos, especially, believe 
 that the souls of men pass after death into different bodies, either of men 
 or animals, unless an individual has lived a most holy and religious life ; 
 in which case his soul is absorbed into the divine essence. The migration 
 of souls from one body to another, ■ also formed a leading feature in the 
 Pythagorean doctrine ; it was a part of the Egyptians' religious system, 
 and it is very probable that Pythagoras learned the doctrine in Egypt ; 
 he, at any rate, was the first who taught and supported it among the 
 Greeks ; and, the more strenuously tu maintain their chimerical system, 
 he declared that he recollected the different bodies which his soul had 
 animated before that of the son of Mnesarchus. He remembered to have 
 been Aethalides, the son of Mercury ; to have assisted the Greeks in the 
 Trojan war, in the character of Euphorbus ; to have been that of Hermo- 
 timus ; afterward a fisherman ; and, last of all, Pythagoras." 
 
FADLALLAE. 
 
 The embodied spirit flies — 
 
 And lodges where it lights in man or beast. — Ovid's Metjlm. 
 
 Fadlallah, a prince of amiable disposition and great virtue, 
 was the son of Ben Ortoc, the King of Mousel. As soon as he 
 arrived at his 20th year his father was desirous he should take 
 a wife ; and, agreeable to the custom of the country, presented 
 a number of beautiful slaves for his choice. Fadlallah looked 
 upon them all with indifference, and surprised his father by 
 his insensibility. He told his father he did not feel any incli- 
 nation towards matrimony, and desired to travel ; he conjured 
 his parents' permission for leave to go only as far as Bagdad, 
 and that upon his return he might feel himself disposed to 
 settle with a wife. His father, unwilling to lay any restraint 
 upon him, consented to his making the journey to Bagdad; 
 and, that he might appear in that great city like the son of a 
 king, ordered a magnificent equipage to be prepared, and a 
 hundred of his guards for an escort. 
 
 The prince and his train set out for Bagdad ; and one night, 
 • when encamped in a meadow, they were attacked by a ferocious 
 band of Bedouins, and, after a severe contest, in which vast 
 many were slain, the Bedouins retreated, but returned in 
 increased force at daylight. Overpowered by superior force, 
 the men of Mousel were slain ; and, on the prince being about 
 to share the fate of his attendants, he cried aloud, " Hold, rash 
 man ! respect the blood of kings, I am Fadlallah, only son and 
 heir of Ben Ortoc, the King of Mousel." " I am glad of 
 that," said the Arab chief, "we have long borne a mortal 
 
12 
 
 LIGHT FKOM THE EAST. 
 
 hatred to your father ; he has slain several of our companions 
 who have fallen into his hands, now we shall take our revenge 
 in your person." 
 
 The Bedouins conveyed their captive to their tents, at some 
 distance ; and, on the second night, learning that some mer- 
 chants with immense riches were expected in their neighbour- 
 hood, they all departed, leaving the prince bound to a tree, 
 near the tent of their chief. 
 
 The wife of the Bedouin chief had compassion on the un- 
 happy Fadlallah ; unbound him, and told him, if he had strength 
 to escape, she would set him at liberty. She directed him the 
 path he should take to avoid his captors. Early in the morning 
 he descried a man with a horse laden with two great packs. 
 He told his story ; and, knowing nothing of the country, he 
 asked the man where he was going. The merchant said he 
 was going to Bagdad to sell his goods, where he hoped to 
 arrive in two days. At the close of the second day they 
 reached Bagdad ; and the prince, feeling the pangs of hunger, 
 placed himself at the lower window of a large mansion, and 
 craved alms in the name of the Prophet. A slave came without, 
 and relieved him with a loaf of bread. Fadlallah began to eat it, 
 and satisfy his hunger, when, on looking up, the wind blew 
 the curtain of the apartment aside, and revealed to his view a 
 young lady of dazzling beauty. Ere he left, Fadlallah learnt 
 that the owner of the mansion was Muffaak, the son of 
 Adbaak, a man of rank and remarkably rich. The prince 
 departed, and met with a rabble, who were pursued by the 
 officers of justice. Seeing an unknown person, the officers 
 seized the prince, and conveyed him to the Cadi. The Cadi 
 interrogated him, and Fadlallah replied to all his questions, 
 save that he did not disclose his birth. He even related the 
 charity he had received at Muffaak' s house, and the charming 
 
FADLALLAH. 
 
 13 
 
 young lady he had by accident seen there. Now the Cadi had 
 a quarrel with Muffaak, and determined to put a cheat upon 
 him for revenge. He therefore took Fadlallah aside, and told 
 him, if he desired the possession of the lady who had so capti- 
 vated him, he, the Cadi, would enable him to do so. 
 
 The prince was accordingly taken into the Cadi's house, 
 and attired with great splendour. The sly old Cadi then sent 
 a message to Muffaak, desiring to see him; and, on his 
 enemy's arrival said, " Heaven has designed we should live in 
 enmity no longer, for an occasion has arrived for a reconcile- 
 ment : the Prince of Bassora has arrived at my house ; having 
 heard of your daughter's great beauty, he has come to demand 
 her in marriage." Muffaak, although somewhat astonished, 
 after some further deceptive explanation from the Cadi, desired 
 an introduction to the prince ; and, making a profound reve- 
 rence, saluted him as the son of a king. The marriage was 
 solemnised with all the appliances that haste would allow ; but 
 early the following morning the villainous old Cadi pre- 
 sented himself at the nuptial chamber with the tattered 
 dress the prince wore on his arrival at Bagdad. Much distress 
 and sorrow did the announcement make on the fairZemroude 
 and her parent, but in the end the false Cadi was discomfited 
 by the prince being enabled, through an officer from his royal 
 father's household, to prove his princely rank. He then, with 
 suitable attendants, with his bride returned to Mousel ; and, at 
 the death of his father, succeeded to the throne. 
 
 He reigned over his faithful subjects, and lived in great 
 happiness with his beauteous consort, Queen Zemroude ; when 
 after some time there appeared at his court a young Dervise 
 of so lively and entertaining a turn of wit, as won upon the 
 affections of every one he conversed with. His reputation 
 grew so fast every day, that it at last raised a curiosity in the 
 
14 
 
 LIGHT FROM THE EAST. 
 
 prince himself to see and talk with him. He did so ; and, far 
 from finding that common fame had flattered him, he was soon 
 convinced that everything he had heard of him fell short of 
 the truth. 
 
 Fadlallah immediately lost all manner of relish for the con- 
 versation of other men ; and, as he was every day more and 
 more satisfied of the abilities of this stranger, offered him the 
 first offices in his kingdom. The young Dervise, after having 
 thanked him, with a very singular modesty desired to be 
 excused, as having made a vow never to accept of any employ- 
 ment, and preferring a free and independent state of life to all 
 other conditions. 
 
 The king was infinitely charmed with so great an example 
 of moderation ; and, though he could not get him to engage in 
 a life of business, made him, however, his chief companion. 
 
 As they were one day hunting together and happened to be 
 separated from the rest of the company, the dervise entertained 
 Fadlallah with an account of his travels and adventures. After 
 having related to him several curiosities which he had seen in 
 the Indies, " It was in this place," said he, " that I contracted 
 an acquaintance with an old Brahman, who was skilled in the 
 most hidden powers of nature ; he died within my arms, and 
 with his parting breath communicated to me one of the most 
 valuable of his secrets, on condition I should never reveal it to 
 any man." The king, immediately reflecting on his young 
 favourite's having refused the late offers of greatness he had 
 made him, told him he presumed it was the power of making 
 gold. "No, Sir," says the Dervise, "it is something more 
 wonderful than that ; it is the power of re -animating a dead 
 body, by flinging my own soul into it." 
 
 While he was yet speaking, a doe came bounding by them, 
 and the king, who had his bow ready, shot her through the 
 
FADLALLAH. 
 
 15 
 
 heart, — telling the Dervise that a fair opportunity now offered 
 for him to show his art. The young man immediately left his 
 own body breathless on the ground, while at the same instant 
 that of the doe was re-animated. She came to the king, fawned 
 upon him, and after having played several wanton tricks, fell 
 again upon the grass ; at the same instant the body of the 
 Dervise recovered its life. The king was infinitely pleased at 
 so uncommon an operation, and conjured his friend, by every- 
 thing that was sacred, to communicate it to him. TheDervise 
 at first made some scruple of violating his promise to the 
 dying Brahman ; but told him at last that he could conceal 
 nothing from so excellent a prince ; after having obliged him, 
 therefore, by an oath to secrecy, he taught him to repeat two 
 cabalistic words, in pronouncing of which the whole secret 
 consisted. The king, impatient to try the experiment, imme- 
 diately repeated them as he had been taught, and in an instant 
 found himself in the body of the doe. He had but little time 
 to contemplate himself in this new being ; for the treacherous 
 Dervise, conveying his own soul into the royal corpse, and 
 bending the prince's own bow against him, had laid him dead 
 on the spot, but the king, perceiving his intent, fled swiftly 
 to the woods. 
 
 The Dervise, now triumphant in his villainy, returned to 
 Mousel, and filled the throne of the unhappy Fadlallah. 
 
 The first thing he took care of, in order to secure himself 
 in the possession of his new-acquired kingdom, was to issue 
 out a proclamation, ordering his subjects to destroy all the 
 deer in the realm. The king had perished among the rest, 
 had he not avoided his pursuers by re-animating the body of a 
 nightingale, which he saw lie dead at the foot of a tree. In 
 this new shape he winged his way in safety to the palace ; 
 where, perching on a tree which stood near his queen's apart- 
 
16 
 
 LIGHT FROM THE EAST. 
 
 ment, he filled the whole place with so many melodious and 
 melancholy notes as drew her to the window. He had the 
 * mortification to see that, instead of being pitied, he only 
 moved the mirth of his princess, and of a young female slave 
 who was with her. He continued, however, to serenade her 
 every morning, until at last the queen, charmed with his har- 
 mony, sent for the bird-catchers, and ordered them to employ 
 their utmost skill to put that little creature into her posses- 
 sion. The king, pleased with an opportunity of being once 
 more near his beloved consort, easily suffered himself to be 
 taken : and when he was presented to her, though he showed 
 a fearfulness to be touched by any of the other ladies, flew of 
 his own accord, and hid himself in the queen's bosom. Zem- 
 roude was highly pleased at the unexpected fondness of her 
 new favourite, and ordered him to be kept in an open cage in 
 her own apartment. He had there an opportunity of making 
 his court to her every morning, by a thousand little actions, 
 which his shape allowed him. The queen passed away whole 
 hours every day in hearing and playing with him. Fadlallah 
 could even have thought himself happy in this state of life, 
 had he not frequently endured the inexpressible torment of 
 seeing the Dervise enter the apartment and caress his queen 
 even in his presence. 
 
 The usurper, amidst his toying with the princess, would 
 often endeavour to ingratiate himself with her nightingale : 
 and while the enraged Fadlallah pecked at him with his bill, 
 beat his wings, and showed all the marks of an impotent rage, 
 it only afforded his rival and the queen new matter for their 
 diversion. 
 
 Zemroucle was likewise fond of a little lap-dog which she 
 kept in her apartment, and which one night happened to die. 
 The king immediately found himself inclined to quit the 
 
FADLALLAH. 
 
 17 
 
 shape of a nightingale, and enliven this new body. He did 
 so, and the next morning Zemroude saw her favourite bird lie 
 dead in the cage. It is impossible to express her grief on this 
 occasion ; and when she called to mind all its little actions, 
 which even appeared to have somewhat in them like reason, 
 she was inconsolable for her loss. 
 
 Her women immediately sent for the Dervise to come and 
 comfort her ; who, after having in vain represented to her the 
 weakness of being grieved at such an accident, touched at last 
 by her repeated complaints, u Well, madam/' says he, " I 
 will exert the utmost of my art to please you. Your nightin- 
 gale shall again revive every morning, and serenade you as 
 before/' The queen beheld him with a look which easily 
 showed she did not believe him, when, laying himself down on 
 a sofa, he shot his soul into the nightingale, and Zemroude 
 was amazed to see her bird revive. 
 
 The king, who was a spectator of all that passed, lying 
 under the shape of a lap-dog in one corner of the room, im- 
 mediately recovered his own body, and, running to the cage, 
 with the utmost indignation, twisted off the neck of the false 
 nightingale. 
 
 Zemroude was more than ever amazed and concerned at 
 this second accident, until the king, entreating her to hear 
 him, related to her his whole adventure. 
 
 The body of the Dervise, which was found dead in the wood, 
 and his edict for killing all the deer, left her no room to doubt 
 the truth of it ; but the story adds, that Zemroude was so 
 highly afflicted at learning the deception practiced towards 
 herself, that no arguments, even from Fadlallah himself, could 
 compose her mind. She shortly after died with grief, begging 
 his forgiveness with her latest breath for what the most rigid 
 justice could not have interpreted as a crime. 
 
 c 
 
18 
 
 LIGHT FEOM THE EAST. 
 
 The King, overcome by the loss of his beloved consort, 
 announced his intention to resign the throne to his nearest 
 relation, Amadeddin, who used every argument to change his 
 resolution, but in vain. He replied — "Take possession of 
 the throne, and may you prove more fortunate than Fadlallah. 
 Rule over a people who know your merit, and who have been 
 so happy under my sway. I bid adieu to pomp and titles, and 
 shall retire to some distant clime, and there, in a life of privacy, 
 free from the cares of empire, give myself up to dwelling on 
 the happy hours I passed with my beloved Zemroude, soothe 
 my afflictions by that sweet remembrance, and prepare my 
 soul for joining hers in mansions of bliss. 
 
 As there has never been a kingdom of Mousel, we conclude the author 
 adopted the name of the city so named as the locale of the story. Mosul 
 is a large town of Asiatic Turkey, on the Tigris, and was once a place of 
 considerable trade, as it is on the high road from Aleppo and Asia Minor 
 to Bagdad. It formerly had numerous manufactories ; and Marco Polo 
 says that muslins first took their name from Mosul, where they ori- 
 ginated. It has a mixed population of Turks, Greeks, Jews, and Chris- 
 tians, and at present contains about 50,000 inhabitants. The town is 
 surrounded by a wall, and the interior has all the aspects of an eastern 
 character, the streets being narrow and unpaved. There are about 
 thirty mosques, several bazaars, and numerous coffee-houses and baths. 
 On the eastern bank of the Tigris, nearly opposite to Mosul, lies the 
 buried City of Nineveh, which has recently been brought to light by 
 Mr. Layard's labours. On a hill in the neighbourhood is a mosque, 
 which the people of the country say, covers the remains of the prophet 
 Jonah. Under Nadir Shah, this district was a possession of the Persian 
 monarchy. Mosul was the chief town of Mesopatainia. 
 
III. 
 
 ®ty Sfaliaman of ©ipmawjs. 
 
 HIS tale is from the "Tales of the Genii," a 
 collection which, for many years was highly 
 esteemed. They purported to be translated 
 from the Persian by Sir Charles Morell. 
 </c They were, however, ascertained to have 
 been written by the Eev. James Eidley, a 
 descendant of Bishop Ridley, the martyr : his 
 father w T as the rector of Romford, and he suc- 
 ceeded to the living. He was educated at 
 Winchester, from whence he was admitted 
 at New College, Oxford. He held the 
 appointment of chaplain to the forces at the 
 siege of Belle -Isle, where he laid the seeds of a 
 disorder which terminated his life in February, 1765. 
 
 Under the similitude of a dream, certainly of some duration, but, 
 to Oriental narrators, not improbable, a beautiful lesson is conveyed in 
 the history of the merchant Abudah. Endowed with riches almost 
 beyond the dreams of avarice, with wife, children, and friends, still he 
 was not a happy man — one thing was wanting, that should be a talisman 
 against all the ills of fortune or unquiet. The solution of this secret and 
 its maxim is applicable to all nations and ages ; the precept it enforces is 
 equally fitted to the Christian as to any worshipper of the one true 
 God and Mahomet's followers : — 
 
 That true happiness on earth is only to be found in knowing and doing 
 the will of our Great Creator, and in the practice of active benificence. 
 
 Now, with respect to benevolence, or a desire to advance the welfare, or 
 to mitigate the misfortunes of others, — it is a disposition so congenial to 
 our nature and so suited to our condition as dependent creatures, so 
 forcibly recommended by the Christian law, that it is needless to enlarge 
 upon it as a duty. St. Paul tells us how we " ought to support the 
 weak, and to remember the words of the Lord Jesus, how he said, 4 It is 
 more blessed to give than to receive.' " 
 
 c 2 
 
20 
 
 LIGHT FROM THE EAST. 
 
 THE TALISMAN OF OROMANES. 
 
 In the centre of the quay of Bagdad, where the wealth of 
 the whole earth is poured forth for the benefit of the faithful,, 
 lived the fortunate Abudah, possessed of the riches and mer- 
 chandise of various nations, caressed by the mighty, and blessed 
 by the indigent ; daily providing for thousands by his munifi- 
 cence, and winning daily the hearts of thousands by his charity 
 and generosity. But, however magnificently the days of Abudah 
 might be spent, his nights were the hours of disturbance and 
 affliction. His wife was fairer than any of the daughters of 
 Circassia ; his children were lovelier than the offspring of fairies; 
 and his riches, which were greater than his desires could con- 
 sume, were unavailing to drive from his imagination the terrors 
 of the night, for no sooner was the merchant retired within 
 the walls of his chambers, than a little box, which no one 
 might remove from its place, advanced without help into the 
 centre of the chamber, and opening, discovered to his sight the 
 form of a diminutive old hag, who, with crutches, hopped for- 
 ward to Abudah, and every night addressed him in the follow- 
 ing terms : — " O ! Abudah, to whom Mahomet has given such 
 a profusion of blessings, why delayest thou to search out the 
 Talisman of Oromanes ? the which, whoever possesseth, shall 
 know neither uneasiness, or discontent ; neither may he be 
 assailed by the tricks of fortune or the power of man. Till you 
 are possessed of that valuable treasure, O Abudah ! my presence 
 shall nightly remind you of your deficiency, and my chest re- 
 main in your chamber of repose." Having thus said, the hag 
 retired into the box, shaking her crutches, and, with a hideous 
 yell, closed herself in ; leaving the unfortunate merchant on a 
 bed of doubt and anxiety for the rest of the night. 
 
THE TALISMAN OF OBOMANES. 
 
 21 
 
 The unwelcome visitant thus repeating her visits, rendered 
 the life of Abudah most miserable and fatiguing. He did not 
 dare to tell his grievance, lest the strangeness of the adventure 
 should rather move the laughter than the compassion of his 
 friends. At length, however, wearied out with the importu- 
 nate taunts of the hag, he determined to open his mind, and 
 one day, when feasting in his saloon, surrounded by friends, 
 he asked publicly if any one could give him an account of the 
 Talisman of Oromanes, or the place where it was preserved. 
 To this question he could get no satisfactory answer ; all had, 
 indeed, heard of its virtues, but every one despaired of finding 
 it. Exposed to the upbraiding of his nocturnal hag, Abudah 
 knew not what course to steer in pursuit of the appointed 
 treasure. 
 
 The next day, he caused it to be cried publicly in the 
 streets of Bagdad " that Abudah the merchant would give 
 much riches to the man who could inform him where the 
 Talisman of Oromanes was lodged." This declaration was 
 made for many days successively; but no one appeared to 
 satisfy the inquiries of the impatient Abudah. 
 
 After many days, a poor traveller, who had been spoiled of 
 his goods by the Bedouins, passing through Bagdad, heard 
 the publication, and immediately offered to go before Abudah, 
 and make known the place where the Talisman of Oromanes 
 was preserved. The friends of the wealthy merchant joyfully 
 carried the poor traveller to the palace of Abudah, and, with 
 great tumult, introduced him to the merchant, who was sitting 
 on a low sofa, and seemed entirely indifferent to the music 
 which played before him, the dessert of elegancies which was 
 prepared for his food, and the caresses of his wife and children, 
 who endeavoured, by their tenderness and affection, to divert 
 the gloom that overshadowed him. 
 
22 
 
 LIGHT FROM THE EAST. 
 
 " Abudah V 0 cried his friends (lifting up their voices together)^ 
 " behold the discoverer of the Talisman of Oromanes ! " 
 
 At their voices, the afflicted merchant looked up, like one 
 awakened from a dream. 
 
 " This/' said his friends, presenting the poor traveller to 
 him, " this is the man who will engage to point out to you 
 the Talisman of Oromanes." 
 
 The traveller was now about to begin his relation, when 
 Abudah, having eyed him round, commanded the apartment 
 to be cleared, that no one but himself might enjoy the dis- 
 covery. His family and friends obediently departed ; and the 
 traveller, being left alone with the merchant, thus began his- 
 tale : — 
 
 " Your fortune and attendance, O ! wealthy citizen of Bagdad,, 
 allow of your search after the Talisman of Oromanes ; but to 
 the poor and needy, to the outcasts of fortune, no such happi- 
 ness is permitted : they may, indeed, wander and examine, but. 
 the talisman is for ever shut up from their search ; for infi- 
 nite are the expenses which attend the discovery, and large 
 the rewards which must be given to them who help the. 
 inquirer forward in his adventure after the sacred talisman. 
 Myself, Oh, merchant, have slaved through life to obtain a 
 sufficiency for that great end and [purpose; but since the 
 Prophet has repeatedly blasted my designs, and reduced me 
 to my original state of want, I must endeavour to wean my 
 affections, and rest contented, though unblcst." 
 
 " But, my friend," said Abudah, " you neglect to inform 
 me where I may find or purchase this heavenly talisman." 
 
 " It is lodged," replied the poor traveller, "in the Valley 
 of Bocchim : princes are its guardians, and it is treasured up 
 amidst all the riches of the earth. You cannot obtain admit- 
 ance there, unless you go loaded with every variety that is. 
 
THE TALISMAN OF OROMANES. 
 
 23 
 
 costly and expensive ; which you must present to the Genii 
 who keep a watch over this earthly paradise of riches ; and if 
 your present be not sufficiently costly, your labour is lost." 
 
 "1 have/' cried Abudah, rejoiced to hear the talisman 
 might be obtained by riches, u nine thousand acres of pastur- 
 age around the rivers of Bagdad ; I have twelve thousand 
 estates of fruits, and oils, and corn ; I have twenty-two mines 
 of the finest diamonds, and six hundred vessels which fish for 
 and produce me the most costly pearl; I have, moreover, 
 eight hundred warehouses, and four hundred store-rooms, 
 filled with the most precious bales of silks and brocades ; be- 
 sides these, the fortunes of nine viziers, mortgaged for an 
 hundred years, and all the beautiful slaves of Circassia, are at 
 my disposal." 
 
 " Oh, happy, happy Abudah ? 3 interrupted the poor traveller: 
 " thine then, and only thine, is it to purchase a passage into 
 the Valley of Bocchim." 
 
 "If so," continued Abudah, overjoyed at the poor traveller's 
 exclamation, u direct me instantly to the entrance of the 
 valley/ 
 
 u Alas, Sir," answered the traveller, " it is in the Deserts of 
 Arabia, seventeen days' journey hence. Besides, your presents 
 are not ready, nor your guard, lest the Arabs spoil you of 
 your riches, and prevent your application at the entrance of 
 the Valley of Bocchim : but if you will permit your servant 
 to direct you in the choice of the presents, some of which will 
 take much time in preparing, by the next spring you may 
 set forward, and speedily find an issue to your journey." 
 
 Abudah acquiesced in the arguments of the traveller ; and, 
 having given orders that he should use as he pleased his 
 immense riches, he gave himself entirely up to the meditation 
 of the intended journey. The poor traveller, having sufficient 
 
24 
 
 LIGHT FROM THE EAST. 
 
 powers, disposed of the riches of Abudah, to purchase the 
 necessary presents ; and hired five thousand archers to 
 accompany the wealthy caravan of the merchant into the 
 Deserts. 
 
 The appointed time being arrived, and everything prepared, 
 Abudah, took a tender leave of his wife and family, and 
 began his journey with the poor traveller to the Valley of 
 Bocchim. 
 
 On the ninth day of the third month, ere the sun was 
 risen on the mosques of Bagdad w r as the sumptuous caravan 
 drawn up in long order through the streets of that city, which 
 Abudah beheld from his windows. 
 
 Five hundred archers, mounted on the fleetest coursers, led 
 the van; behind w r hom were twelve thousand oxen, thirty 
 thousand sheep, and two hundred of the finest horses of 
 Arabia. Next to these, came six hundred men armed with 
 pole-axes and scimitars, with silk banners displaying the 
 blessings of pasturage and the utility and convenience of 
 cattle for the service of man. After these were driven two 
 hundred camels, laden with all manner of dried and preserved 
 fruits ; a thousand more with all sorts of grain ; a thousand 
 with the richest wines ; and five hundred with the most pure 
 oil ; five hundred more with spices and perfumes ; and behind 
 these, a thousand armed husbandmen, singing the Blessings 
 of the Earth, burning in censers the most costly perfumes, 
 and bearing flaxen and silken banners, representing the 
 Seasons and annual Labours of Husbandry. — These were of 
 the first day's procession. 
 
 The second day's cavalcade began with five hundred miners, 
 armed with sledges and hammers, whom a large car followed, 
 drawn by twenty strong oxen, having within it all the imple- 
 ments of iron ; and above, in the upper part, an hero, who 
 
THE TALISMAN OF OROMANES. 
 
 25 
 
 commanded the armed men in the whole procession. Then 
 came five hundred artificers ; and after them a car drawn by- 
 twenty mules, with the implements of lead, and a curious arti- 
 zan on the top of the car, singing the uses of metals. Behind 
 these came five hundred more artificers, with their different 
 tools, and a car drawn by twenty horses, with cast figures, 
 statues, and implements of brass, and a cunning artificer on the 
 top of the car. After these followed a thousand artificers in 
 silver, and a sumptuous car of solid silver, drawn by fifty uni- 
 corns, and laden with plate and silver coin ; also, a hundred 
 camels behind, laden also with silver ; and on the car sat the 
 steward of Abudah. At a small distance from these came forward 
 a thousand men armed cap-a-pie, after the manner of Saracens, 
 and behind these followed, on sumptuous mules, five hundred 
 of the principal foreign merchants, richly habited, with the 
 emblems of Commerce curiously wrought in their garments, 
 accompanied by an enormous car, drawn by four elephants, 
 laden with golden emblems and devices, with great quantities 
 of that precious metal — the car also was of beaten gold. Into 
 this, taking leave of Abudah, ascended the poor traveller, 
 arrayed in purple and gold, and pointing, with a gold rod, 
 toward the valley of Bocchim. And these completed the second 
 day's procession. 
 
 On the third day issued forth from the gates of Bagdad the 
 final procession of the caravan of the merchant Abudah. A 
 thousand archers began the ceremony, preceded by a martial 
 band of music, and bearing among their ranks fifty silken 
 streamers interwoven with gold, and having the emblems of 
 Abudah' s family wrought in their centres. Next to these 
 came fifty carriages, laden with the richest silks and brocades, 
 and two hundred surrounded the carriages, arrayed in the dif- 
 ferent habits of two hundred nations ; after whom came fifty 
 
25 
 
 LIGHT FROM THE EAST. 
 
 negroes on dromedaries, bearing about their necks strings of 
 the most costly pearl. After these, a thousand armed soldiers, 
 after the European manner, who, at a small distance, were 
 followed by a hundred mutes, behind whom came, in two 
 hundred palanquins, as many beautiful slaves from Circassian 
 each guarded by four eunuchs, and clad in the richest robes. 
 
 The next in procession was the merchant Abudah, drawn in 
 a chariot of pearl, of the most curious workmanship, by ten 
 milk-white steeds, whose trappings were of gold. As to the 
 garments of the merchant, nothing could be conceived more 
 magnificent ; but the splendour of the jewels that were inter- 
 woven with the clothing exceeded the most lavish description : 
 on each side the chariot a hundred musicians attended, and 
 fifty slaves burning the choicest perfumes ; various splendid 
 banners waved around him, and two hundred friends behind, 
 of the highest rank in the city of Bagdad, attended the illus- 
 trious and wealthy Abudah ; after whom a thousand archers, 
 and numberless camels, laden with all manner of provisions, 
 water, and wine, brought up the rear of this magnificent 
 cavalcade. 
 
 On the thirteenth day they halted in a plain, bounded on 
 the side with lofty mountains, and at the farther end with a 
 deep forest of cedars and palms. Here the poor traveller, 
 descending with Abudah, walked forward toward the forest 
 before them. 
 
 The traveller led Abudah into the forest, through thickets, 
 almost impervious, save the blind path which guided them 
 forward. In this manner they passed till the evening; when 
 the traveller, entering a cave, disappeared from the wondering 
 Abudah. The merchant essayed to follow him, but looking 
 into the cave, it seemed to have no bottom, therefore he was 
 obliged to desist. 
 
THE TALISMAN OF OROMANES. 
 
 21 
 
 The sun was now sinking from the mountains, and the 
 glowing skies seemed to tip the woods with their reddening- 
 light. Abudah, being fatigued, first sought out a tree, and, 
 climbing into it, resolved there to await the dawn of the morn- 
 ing : but the severe fatigues had so much exhausted him, that, 
 although he 'had resolved to watch till the morning, yet sleep 
 soon overpowered him, and made him forget either the wonders 
 or the dangers that surrounded him. 
 
 Abudah, in the morning, when he awakened, was surprised 
 at an unusual glitter about him ; and, looking more steadfastly, 
 he found the tree on which he sat to be of pure gold, and the 
 leaves of silver, with fruit like rubies hanging in clusters on the 
 branches. Looking around, he also beheld the face of the 
 country as though it had been changed : for on every side 
 appeared the most glorious palaces that eye could conceive, 
 glittering with gold, silver, and precious stones ; so that the 
 whole appeared more like a heavenly than a earthly situation. 
 
 Descending full of wonder from the tree, he found the ground 
 he trod on to be gold dust, and the stones pearls ; these were 
 covered with flowers which seemed formed of vegetable crystal, 
 emeralds, and amethysts ; trees and shrubs of silver and gold 
 met his eye, growing almost visibly about him. At the farther 
 end of the prospect he beheld a vast and expanded dome, which 
 seemed to cover a whole plain, and rose to the clouds. This 
 dome shone so brightly, by the reflection of the costly materials 
 of which it was composed, that he could hardly look toward it. 
 However, as it seemed most to attract his attention, he advanced 
 up to the door. 
 
 The dome, which was of entire gold, stood upon three hun- 
 dred pillars of precious stones ; one emerald formed the shaft 
 of one pillar, one diamond the capital, and one ruby the 
 pedestal : the intermediate spaces between the pillars were of 
 
28 
 
 LIGHT FROM THE EAST. 
 
 crystal, one piece between each pillar ; so that the inside of 
 the dome was visible from all parts. The architrave was of 
 solid pearl, inlaid with curious emblems, composed of festoons 
 of amethysts, topazes, carbuncles, rubies, emeralds, sapphires, 
 and the most sparkling diamonds. 
 
 Abudah, though the richest of mankind, was struck with 
 astonishment at the profusion of riches and beauty which he 
 beheld ; and entering at one of the four portals (for the dome 
 had four, one to each quarter of the heavens) , he beheld an 
 ancient form, seated on a throne, which looked too bright to 
 distinguish what glorious materials it w r as made of. A great 
 number of crowned heads attended on him ; and these were 
 supported by inferior beings, all clad in the most superb vest- 
 ments. All around the dome were placed, with great beauty 
 and symmetry, numberless heaps of wealth and riches ; and 
 the very pavement on which he trod was covered over with 
 tapestry carpet, representing the riches of the earth, in all 
 their natural colours. 
 
 Abudah, abashed at this amazing magnificence, and be- 
 holding such personages within the dome, was retiring, when 
 one of the chief of the attendants, who stood nearest the 
 throne, advancing, beckoned Abudah forward. The merchant 
 obeyed with trembling, and as he came forward, bowed himself 
 to the ground, which the royal personage perceiving, who sat 
 on the throne, spake thus to him : 
 
 " Fear not, Abudah, thou hast ever been a favourite of the 
 Genius of Riches. I am thy friend ; and this journey, which 
 thou hast undertaken in honour of me, in hopes here to find 
 the Talisman of the Great Oromanes, shall not go unrewarded. 
 And first/' said he to the Genius who had presented the mer- 
 chant, "lead Abudah through all my stores, and let him 
 view the riches of the earth — a sight that so many thousands 
 long ardently to enjoy." 
 
THE TALISMAN OF OKOMANES. 
 
 29 
 
 The inferior Genius obeyed ; and, taking Abudah by the 
 hand, he led him toward a royal palace, facing the eastern side 
 of the dome. Here, as Abudah entered the palace, the walls 
 of which were of the purest silver, with windows of crystal, he 
 beheld incredible heaps of that precious metal, all seemingly 
 composed like branches of trees. 
 
 " What thou seest here," said the Genius, cc is trifling ; for 
 these heaps, which seem to lie on the surface of the ground, 
 really are of the same depth with the centre of the earth ; so 
 that of this metal alone there is laid up more in value than all 
 the visible riches of the world." 
 
 The Genius next carried Abudah to a second palace, built of 
 pure gold, having windows like the first. Here, also, Abudah 
 beheld the same profusion of gold, which, like the silver, con- 
 tinued down to the centre. Next he was shown, in a huge 
 building of adamant, a cistern filled with the fragments of 
 diamonds and all manner of precious stones. 
 
 " These also," said the Genius, " are not terminated but by 
 the centre of the earth. Now," continued he, * as you ob- 
 served in the two first palaces, the silver and gold are the little 
 branches which drop from the trees of this vegetable valley of 
 riches ; for all things on earth are subject to decrease, which 
 are here carefully collected (for the rich are not exempt from 
 toil), and placed in these repositories, the bottoms of which, 
 at the centre of the earth, are grated, and let out sparingly 
 these smaller fragments : so likewise of the jewels, which fall 
 like fruit from the trees, and break into little pieces : these 
 are all thrown together to serve the earth, but none above 
 such a size are admitted, nor indeed could they pass through 
 the grating below. Thus these metals and jewels, mixing with 
 the earth, and being diffused in its bowels, are at length 
 stopped by rocks and stones, and so form mines in different 
 
so 
 
 LIGHT EEOM THE EAST. 
 
 parts of the world, each requiring the industry and labour of 
 man, that they may be brought the more sparingly into the 
 world/' 
 
 Abudah, having viewed these things, returned, and being 
 presented to the Genius of Riches — " Now," said the Genius, 
 " bring forth the iron chest, wherein, it is said, the Talisman of 
 Oromanes is lodged." 
 
 At the command of the Genius, ten of an inferior order 
 brought in a huge chest, of fifty locks upon it : the chest itself 
 was of iron, and bound round with the strongest bands, which 
 were harder than adamant. " There," said the Genius to 
 Abudah, " there is thy reward : return to Bagdad, and live in 
 peace all the days of thy life !" 
 
 " Must I then," replied Abudah, " O beneficent Genius, 
 carry with me the chest also ? or is it permitted that I take 
 thence the Talisman of Oromanes ?" 
 
 " "Wouldst thou then," replied the Genius, "take it from 
 its place of security ? "Whilst thou dost possess the chest, the 
 talisman is thine own, and the force of man cannot bereave 
 thee of it. Why, then, should curiosity prevail over security ? 
 It is written in the chronicles of time, that he who possesseth 
 the Talisman of Oromanes shall be happy : seek not, therefore, 
 to disentangle the talisman from its present state of security, 
 till it fail thee of its promised efficacy. Take, however, these 
 fifty keys ; but beware, lest thy curiosity alone tempt thee ; 
 for what mortal can say if its refulgence be not too much for 
 man to behold !" 
 
 Having thus said, the Genius commanded Abudah to lie 
 down on the chest ; and immediately his eyes closed, and not 
 till the morning after did he awake, and find himself in a tent, 
 on the plain where he had left his immense caravan ; but now 
 he found only forty camels and forty servants to attend him. 
 
THE TALISMAN OF OROMANES. 
 
 31 
 
 Abudah inquired of his servants what became of the riches 
 and attendants that had travelled from Bagdad with him to 
 that plain ; but they could give no answer. They said, in- 
 deed, that they had heard of such a caravan, and that they had 
 for some time missed their master from Bagdad ; and that, 
 although they went overnight to their rest in his house at Bag- 
 dad, they found themselves, with the tents, and forty camels 
 laden with provision, on that plain in the morning ; and that, 
 coming into his tent, they saw him sleeping on an iron chest, 
 and had removed him to the sofa. u And is the chest here V 
 cried Abudah. " Here is, Sir," replied the slave that spoke, 
 "an iron chest of ^ prodigious size, and secured with many 
 locks." 
 
 Abudah immediately arose ; and, though he could not un- 
 ravel the mysteries of his journey, yet, seeing the chest, and 
 finding the keys, which the Genius had given him, he was con- 
 tented, and ordered them to strike their tents, and begin their 
 march for the City of Bagdad. The chest was, by long poles 
 made fast to four camels, which were placed in the centre of 
 the caravan. 
 
 The mind of Abudah, though in possession of the chest, was 
 yet not without its apprehensions that the wild Arabs might 
 come down upon his little party, and bereave him of his trea- 
 sure. The first day, the caravan reached a pool of water, and 
 on its banks the careful Abudah ordered his retinue to pitch 
 their tents, and unload the camels from their burdens ; and, 
 at the same time, placed four of his slaves as sentinels, toward 
 the four different quarters of his encampment ; and ordered 
 the chest, for the greater security, to be buried in the sand 
 under his tent, while he endeavoured to compose himself for 
 slumber. Nor were his fears unreasonable; for at the hour of 
 midnight a small party of Arabs stole down toward them, in 
 order to encamp there for the benefit of the water. 
 
32 
 
 LIGHT EEOM THE EAST. 
 
 Abudah had notice from his slave, who looked toward the 
 west, of their approach, and was likewise informed that their 
 number was small ; but such was his anxiety and irresolution, 
 and fear of losing his treasure or his life, that he dared not 
 order them to be attacked, or prepare for flight. During this 
 ineffectual altercation and struggle of Abudah with his fears, 
 one of the slaves, more daring than the rest, finding his 
 master fearful, encouraged his comrades, and, marshalling them 
 in order, led them toward the robbers. 
 
 The Arabs, who were not more than twenty in number, at 
 sight of a force so much superior, turned their backs, and left 
 Abudah' s slaves in quiet possession of their tents. But now 
 the slave, seeing the Arabs flying from before him, and ob- 
 serving the fear of his master, and the great concern he had 
 for the iron chest, addressed himself to the rest of the slaves, and 
 declaring what immense treasure there might lie hid in that 
 chest, seeing their master had left Bagdad to search for it, and 
 had it secured with so many locks, persuaded them to rob 
 Abudah, and depart with the riches to some other country, where 
 they might enjoy the fruits of their rapine. This being easily 
 agreed to, they all in a body advanced to the tent of Abudah, 
 who came out to meet and thank them for their gallant 
 behaviour. 
 
 The bold slave thus made answer to his master's thanks : — 
 " The danger, Oh Abudah, of defending thy riches, contained in 
 the iron chest with many locks, fell all upon thy slaves ; whilst 
 thou, who wert to enjoy the comfort of those riches, didst lie 
 trembling in thy tent. Wherefore we, who have borne the 
 burden, mean also to share the profits with thee ; but, that 
 thou mayest sec that we are just, one equal share shall be thy 
 portion, and the rest belongs to those who have preserved to 
 thee even the share that will be appointed thee." These words 
 
THE TALISMAN OF 0 ROMANES. 
 
 33 
 
 being ended, without any regard to either the threatenings or 
 ^prayers of Abudah, they dug up the chest ; and, having cleared 
 away the sand, demanded of him the keys of the fifty locks. 
 
 Abudah, finding them inexorable, besought them that they 
 would at least give him a day to consider of their proposal. 
 xi What V J replied the bold slave, " a day ? Why, merchant, 
 long ere that will a thousand Arabs be upon us, invited by 
 those that are fled ; and we shall suffer death, and you and all 
 entirely lose the valuable possessions which are doubtless con- 
 tained in that strong chest of iron." 
 
 It was in vain that, in return, the merchant assured them 
 that there was nothing therein but a poor talisman, whose 
 virtues they could not know ; and promised them all liberty 
 and riches, if they arrived safe in Bagdad with the chest. They 
 had gone too far to trust to his promises ; and the slave w r ho 
 was their ringleader, ordering all to retire, left Abudah for 
 half an hour to think of their proposal. 
 
 Abudah, as soon as they had left him, threw himself upon 
 the chest, as one who was grasping all that was dear unto him, 
 and, with a loud sigh, began to lament his fate ; when, as 
 before, a deep sleep overtaking him ; he sunk motionless on his 
 treasure. 
 
 At midnight he awaked, and, turning his eyes around, per- 
 ceived he was in the apartments of his seraglio, in Bagdad, and 
 that his wife was sleeping near him on a sofa. The recollection 
 of his happy escape immediately got possession of his mind : 
 and he doubted not but he should find his chest, as he had 
 before. Wherefore, before he saluted, or indeed, thought of 
 his wife, taking one of the sweet-scented lamps, that always 
 were burning in the centre of the apartment, he perceived the 
 chest in the very corner where, before, the box which had 
 caused him so much uneasiness used to remain fixed. 
 
 D 
 
34 
 
 LIGHT FROM THE EAST. 
 
 Abudah, now feeling for, and taking out the fifty keys, 
 thought himself the happiest of mankind. The danger which 
 he conceived the talisman might be in, from lying in a chest 
 so conspicuous, and which he had already experienced, deter- 
 mined him, at all hazards, to unlock with his fifty keys the 
 iron chest, and take the talisman out, and always wear it con- 
 cealed about him. With this view he began to try the first 
 key, which, to his amazement, would fit neither of the fifty 
 locks. At this he began to suspect, that either the Genius 01 
 Riches had mistaken (which he could hardly suppose), or that 
 some evil Genius had changed them in his bosom. — u How- 
 ever," said he to himself, u perhaps, as one key will open none, 
 one also may open all so, taking out one by one, he tried 
 them all : but neither of the fifty keys would open a single 
 lock. 
 
 Abudah, at this discovery, flung himself on the sofa, and 
 began to lament his miserable fate : but he soon resolved to try 
 the keys a second time : " for,"' said he, " some key I have 
 possibly missed, and such a treasure cannot be expected without 
 much labour and pains." At this he rose up, and was going 
 toward the chest, when, starting at a noise in the centre of 
 the room, he beheld the little box, which had been the first 
 cause of all his grief, and was saluted by the old hag, who 
 hobbled out from her confinement, and began to terrify the 
 afflicted merchant in the following terms : — 
 
 « Oh, senseless Abudah ! to hope that the Talisman of Oro- 
 manes might be bought with riches ! Thou hast indeed a chest, 
 but thou hast neither the means, nor canst thou force open 
 this chest, to search for thy treasure : what, then, art thou the 
 better for thy possession, or the happier for thy chest of iron ? 
 It will, indeed convey thee where thou desirest, and thou mayst 
 rest upon it; but, waking, thou feelest the tortures of anxiety, 
 
tut iwm 
 
THE TALISMAN OF OROMANES. 
 
 35 
 
 and feelest them the sharper, because thou fearest to lose what 
 thou canst not enjoy. Go then, and search till thou findest 
 the keys of the fifty locks ; but be not so senseless as to sup- 
 pose that the Genius would have parted with the treasure, 
 could he have made any use of it. In a far different country 
 must thou hope to find those keys which will unlock that 
 chest; a joyous country, where serenity ever dwells, and 
 pleasure reigns eternal. — A short respite will I give thee ; 
 but ere this moon be passed, let me find you active, or I shall 
 invent double horrors to surround you." 
 
 Having thus said, the box closed, and in an instant Abudah 
 beheld it mounted on the chest, which he vainly hoped would 
 have driven such a troublesome guest from his house. 
 
 And now Selima his wife, awaking, beheld with surprise 
 her husband Abudah drowned in tears by her side. She in- 
 stantly pressed him in her arms, and, in transports, inquired 
 by what happy fate he was returned. 
 
 " Why, know you not," replied Abudah, "that the third 
 morning, as I mounted the car, which the traveller had pre- 
 pared for me, and was arrayed in my best vestments of gold 
 and diamonds, having a procession the length of two days 
 before me, and such a numerous retinue of all the nobles of 
 Bagdad, and having archers innumerable attending my caravan, 
 which was moving toward the valley — 1" 
 
 "Oh, my dear Abudah/' said SelimU interrupting him, 
 " with what madness hath that wicked enchanter possessed 
 you ? What car ? what vestments ? what procession doth my 
 lord talk of? There came, indeed (brought by those who 
 called themselves your friends), a poor wretch here, who has 
 embezzled the greater part of your riches, and who often 
 talked in private with you : and this continued for some 
 months, during which time you never attended to the speech 
 
 d2 
 
36 
 
 LIGHT FKOM THE EAST. 
 
 of your friends, but seemed wrapped up in that specious villain, 
 who at last took you to the room fronting the gateway of the 
 city, and there, for two days, you continued looking out, and 
 seemed to be in raptures, talking of more riches than the 
 world contains : and the third day, though he still continued 
 by you, you persisted he was gone. Yet he went forth, and 
 you followed him : and, getting into a little vehicle, he placed 
 himself behind you, and your family have from that day 
 lamented your absence." 
 
 At this recital Abudah turned his face on the sofa, and 
 spake no more for several hours. At last, rising from the sofa, 
 "Fool, indeed that I was V said he, "to trust to the account 
 of a miserable impostor, or believe that the Talisman of Oro- 
 manes might be purchased with riches." 
 
 [The continuation of the tale of the " Talisman of Oromanes" describes 
 the second adventure of the merchant Abudah in the groves of Shadaski. 
 We give the conclusion, which forms an introduction to the third 
 Adventure :] — 
 
 Thus passed away the night in the groves of Shadaski ; the 
 morning brought reflection and satiety ; and Abudah, with 
 some impatience, besought the Queen of Pleasures to surren- 
 der him the keys of the iron chest. 
 
 " My ever-loved Abudah," replied the Queen, " behold the 
 chest in the centre of my temple ; and here are the keys for 
 my adventurous hero : go, happy AJbudah, and purchase a 
 perpetuity in these never-fading arms, by the possession of the 
 talisman of the pleasure-giving Oromanes." 
 
 Abudah, having received the keys, jumped forward from 
 
THE TALISMAN OF OROMANES. 
 
 37 
 
 the pavilion to the middle of the temple ; and, like a man just 
 entering on a new pursuit, with great impatience began to open 
 the fifty locks. The locks, being only touched by the keys, 
 flew from their staples, and the merchant, in a few minutes, 
 had conquered forty-nine of the obstacles of his happiness : as he 
 was opening the last, — te Oh Queen !" said he, " come forward, 
 and see me finish this desirable adventure V 9 The last lock 
 tumbled off just as the Queen arrived at the chest ; and Abudah 
 besought her to share with him the pleasures of exploring the 
 chest. But no sooner did the merchant stoop to open the lid 
 of the iron chest, than a sudden darkness ensued, and in a 
 moment the loud thunder cracked around him, and streams of 
 crooked lightnings, with horrid blaze, encircled the astonished 
 Abudah. 
 
 The shrieks and cries of the once-gay set, who were indulg- 
 ing under the canopies, next struck his ears ; some, already 
 blasted by the lightning, withered away ; others, the ruins of 
 the temple, falling in huge fragments, half-buried in the earth ; 
 the rest, in madness, running to and fro in despair, tore each 
 other to pieces. The red angry lightning still continuing, 
 Abudah, in the utmost anguish, looked toward the Queen; — 
 when, (Oh fearful sight !) he saw her soft form parching and 
 contracting by the flames, and her whole body diminishing, 
 till, by degrees, instead of eyes brim-full of love, he beheld the 
 little old hag, with fury flashing from her looks. 
 
 « Wretch, as well as fool \" said she, with a voice that pierced 
 his inmost sense, "how darest thou presume to seek the 
 Talisman of Oromanes amidst the vanities and intemperance 
 of this filthy grove ? But I leave thee to enjoy the situation 
 thou art so fond of ; be this dungeon of lust thy prison ; here 
 wander, and contemplate the pleasures thou hast chosen." 
 
 Thus saying, she struck Abudah with her crutch, and 
 
38 
 
 LIGHT FEOM THE EAST. 
 
 vanished from his sight. The touch of her noxious hand 
 filled him with aching pains, and the dead bodies and the groans 
 of those dying around him, inspired the wretched merchant 
 with horror and remorse. 
 
 He wandered for a long time in what he now believed an 
 endless cavern, without light ; and, to add to his wretchedness, 
 every step he took he trod on some venomous creature ; the 
 serpents hissed at him as he passed ; the toads spit malignant 
 fire ; and the asps, twining round his legs, cast their venom 
 on him, and marked him with a thousand blotches. Thus 
 continued he wandering to and fro, with great caution, about 
 the dismal cavern, not more tormented with the groans of 
 others than his own dismal and heart-aching thoughts, which 
 made him weep and tremble every step he took. 
 
 After many weary searches for an end, or place to escape, 
 he felt something larger than common seize him by the leg ; 
 upon which the poor wretch supposed he was in the gripe of an 
 enormous serpent, and began shrieking with fear and terror ; 
 when a voice, like that of despair, spoke us follows : — 
 
 " What wretch art thou, who yet remainest alive in this 
 cavern of desolation and death ? 1J 
 
 Abudah, though still in terror, was yet somewhat comforted 
 to find some companion in his miseries, and thus answered 
 him : — 
 
 " I am, indeed, a wretch, misled in my searches after the 
 Talisman of Oromanes I" 
 
 " What !" answered the voice, " wast thou fool enough to 
 suppose that pleasure was the road to that noble jewel ? It 
 were then," continued the voice, * an easy purchase : but 
 rough is the path, and high the mount, on which that treasure 
 is preserved." 
 
 m Alas !" answered Abudah, cc it matters not to me where 
 
THE TALISMAN OF OROMANES. 
 
 39 
 
 or how this talisman is disposed, who am thus for ever enclosed 
 in these walls of wretchedness." 
 
 m We cannot but rise/' answered the voice, u when we are 
 at the bottom; and perhaps the most barren ground will 
 yield the richest mine ; be thou but resolved but to tread the 
 crooked and laborious path, and I will instruct thee: for 
 within these caverns begins the winding ascent." 
 
 m Oh friend, or genius, or whatsoever else thou art," returned 
 the merchant, u place me but in the track, and no dangers 
 shall deter me ; for what has he to fear who is beyond hope ?" 
 
 u Take, then," answered the voice, u thy way as the cavern 
 descends : and fear not to stoop in order to rise ; for in the 
 lowest part of this cavern is situated the opening you must 
 ascend." 
 
 As the voice ended, Abudah found his feet at liberty, and 
 began to feel out for the cavern's descent. The lower he 
 went, the more filth and stench he found ; to which, submitting 
 with patience, he, by a long passage, sometimes crawling under 
 rugged arches, sometimes wading in mud and dirt, and in 
 total darkness, attained the end of the cavern, where he 
 stumbled on some narrow steps, but could see no light, and 
 was nearly suffocated with the noisome vapours. 
 
 The winding ascent was so intricate, and clogged with dirt 
 and rubbish, that the merchant worked like a mole in the 
 dark ; but, by his industry, he gained ground considerably ; 
 yet what mostly tormented him was, that as often as he en- 
 deavoured to mount, the steps would slip from under him, and 
 he would come tumbling down with a weight of dirt upon him ; 
 and then had all his work to do over again. Nothing but his 
 intolerable situation and lost condition could have supported 
 the merchant in this odious undertaking : but meanness and 
 wretchedness know no evils greater than themselves. 
 
40 
 
 LIGHT FROM THE EAST, 
 
 After various labours, Abudah arrived at a kind of resting- 
 place, whence the steps began to enlarge ; and by degrees he 
 perceived from above a glimmering light, to which ascending* 
 the nearer he drew to it, the plainer he could hear a confused 
 sound of voices echoing from the top, which increased as he 
 rose, till he could plainly distinguish it must proceed from 
 some great concourse of people without. 
 
 When he had reached the uppermost step, over which a 
 hole opened sufficient for a man to crawl through, the clamours 
 without were so terrifying, that he feared to proceed ; at last, 
 considering that death must be the consequence of remaining 
 in the cavern, he boldly ventured forth. 
 
 No sooner did the merchant Abudah appear through the 
 opening of the cavern, than ten thousand voices cried out all 
 at once, — "Long live our Sultan, whom the mountains of 
 Tasgi have brought forth !" And Abudah, looking round, saw 
 an infinite concourse of people round the mountain, and beyond 
 them a most plentiful country, with cities and towns scattered 
 among the valleys which opened to his view. 
 
 A number of eunuchs and viziers stepped forward to disen- 
 gage Abudah from the mouth of the cavern, who was so spent 
 with his infirmities, sores, and fatigue, that he was obliged to 
 be supported. Immediately a princely robe was thrown over 
 him, and a costly turban put upon his head; the concourse 
 still crying out, with ecstacy and rapture, "Long live our 
 Sultan, whom the mountains of Tasgi have brought forth [" 
 
 Silence being commanded, the grand vizier, with a long 
 train, came toward Abudah ; and, with all the people, prostrat- 
 ing himself before the merchant, thus addressed himself to 
 Abudah : — 
 
 " Behold, O thou, before whose presence even the sun is 
 darkness ! behold, O wonder of mankind, most sacred progeny 
 
THE TALISMAN OF ORO MANES. 
 
 41 
 
 of Tasgi ! thou miracle of beauty ! thou mirror of perfection ! 
 thou most glorious Sultau of earthly princes ! thou diamond 
 of nature ! thou guardian of the world ! behold thy prostrate 
 slaves ; whose wish is only to lay down as thy foot-stools, and 
 to be trodden under thy feet as the dust of the plain ! Thine, 
 O Sultan, is all earthly happiness ! thine, every perfection of 
 body and mind ! thine, all power, from the mountains of thy 
 parent Tasgi, to the parching deserts of Shezrallah, which for- 
 bid the approach of the stranger to the kingdoms of our in- 
 vincible Sultan ! Rule, therefore, thy slaves, according unto 
 thy pleasure, and know but one will in the plains and cities, 
 which, by thy permission and bounty, thy slaves inhabit." 
 
 As the grand vizier, still prostrate with the people, uttered 
 these words, they all with one voice repeated : — " O Sultan, 
 whom the mountains of Tasgi have brought forth, rule thy 
 slaves according to thy pleasure V 
 
 Abudah, filled with conceit, and bloated with pride, had 
 almost forgot his pains and infirmities in this flattering ap- 
 plause: he set his foot on the neck of the vizier with the 
 utmost haughtiness, and commanded him to conduct him to 
 the seraglio of his ancestors. A number of slaves and eunuchs 
 brought a magnificent throne of ivory, with a canopy of golden 
 embroidery thrown over it, into which Abudah ascended, and 
 was borne on the shoulders of the grandees and viziers of his 
 newly-acquired kingdom. 
 
 The retinue, winding round the hill, brought Abudah in 
 sight of an extensive encampment, which, after the eastern 
 manner, was of a thousand different colours : one division 
 yellow, one blue, another white, some red, some green, and all 
 adorned with silver or gold. In the centre of this splendid 
 armament stood the royal tent, which shone with the lustre of 
 the gold and purple velvet of which it was composed, and 
 looked rather like a palace than a tent. 
 
42 
 
 LIGHT FROM THE EAST. 
 
 Here Abudah was seated on his throne ; and, the nobles 
 having done obeisance, Abudah commanded all but the grand 
 vizier to depart. 
 
 The rest being gone, the grand vizier, again prostrating 
 himself before Abudah, cried out, " May my lord, the Sultan 
 of Tasgi, ever rule over Harran his slave." 
 
 " Harran," answered Abudah, H arise, and declare to me the 
 cause of this encampment, and why the armies of Tasgi are 
 thus scattered on the plains V* 
 
 " Our renowned Sultan Rammasin," replied the vizier, 
 Harran, " made it his custom to take the field in summer, to 
 terrify his foes ; but, in the midst of this campaign, it pleased 
 the powers who preside over the mountains of Tasgi to call 
 him from us, and bless us with the presence of my lord, before 
 whom I stand. For, since the time that the descendants of 
 Mahomet involved our kingdom in perpetual bloodshed, we 
 have been warned by the oracles of Tasgi to expect a king 
 from the womb of the mountain, that no division of families* 
 or contention among brethren, might disturb the peace of 
 these happy kingdoms." 
 
 "And who," said Abudah, "are the neighbours of my 
 kingdom beyond these mountains ?" 
 
 u They are," replied the vizier, " O Sultan, a harmless in- 
 offensive race; which was the cause that the Sultan Rammasin 
 would not make war upon them, although their territories 
 extend to the sea-coast, and would be a noble addition to the 
 kingdom of the Sultan of Tasgi." 
 
 " Rammasin, then," answered Abudah, " wanted a nobleness 
 of soul, to sit down contented with less than he might have 
 enjoyed ; but Abudah, your present Sultan, will give their 
 land to the slaves of Tasgi, and extend his dominions even 
 over the waves and the tempest." 
 
THE TALISMAN OF OROMANES. 
 
 43 
 
 " My royal master will thereby/' answered the vizier, €t gain 
 the hearts of his soldiers, who have long pined in the inglorious 
 lethargies of peace/' 
 
 " Go, bid the trumpet sound then/' said Abudah, " and let 
 it be proclaimed in the camp, that your Sultan, Abudah, will 
 revenge the injuries which the inhabitants of Tasgi have re- 
 ceived from their perfidious neighbours. Go, Harran, and 
 denounce war against the " 
 
 " Shakarahs," said Harran, bowing, " who have insulted 
 the mountains of Tasgi." 
 
 Abudah was going on ; but his pains and weakness obliged 
 him to order that an inner tent might be prepared for him. 
 
 While the eunuchs and slaves were attending their new 
 Sultan, his vizier, Harran, caused the royal mandate to be pro- 
 claimed about the encampment, and commanded the leaders 
 of the army to be assembled together, to deliver to them the 
 orders of the Sultan Abudah. 
 
 The whole kingdom of Tasgi was rejoiced at the news of 
 their Sultan's expedition against the helpless and innocent 
 Shakarahs; so little do subjects weigh the merits of war ! and 
 the old and decrepit parents stirred up their children to engage 
 in a service where cruelty and destruction were honoured with 
 the titles of virtue and the love of their country. 
 
 Ere the sun began to smile upon the harvests of the Shak- 
 arahs, the tents of Abudah were moving to destroy them ; the 
 loud cymbals were clanging in the air, and the brazen trumpets, 
 with their shrill notes of liveliness, seemed to inspire the 
 armies of Tasgi with a thirst of glory, and not of blood. The 
 order and discipline of the troops, the regularity of their 
 march, and the sprightliness of their looks, utterly disguised 
 the rapacious purposes of the royal plunderer; who, 
 though but just master of one kingdom, was so eager 
 
44 
 
 LIGHT FROM THE EAST. 
 
 to get possession of a second, that lie destroyed many 
 of his men in forcing a march over the mountains, which 
 nature had placed as the boundaries of their nation. 
 
 The Shakarahs, having notice of their motions, sent an em- 
 bassy to meet the Sultan of Tasgi, beseeching to know the 
 cause of his coming; making the humblest professions of 
 peace ; and offering, if anything had offended him, to make 
 the fullest satisfaction they were capable of ; and imploring 
 him that he would not make war upon a nation who were ever 
 the friends of the Tasgites, and to whom that kingdom had 
 never declared any hostile intention. 
 
 To these humble remonstrances Abudah replied, that he 
 was not to be taught and directed by such base slaves as the 
 Shakarahs, and that, whatever intention he might have had 
 originally in entering their kingdom, he now declared he came 
 to punish the insolence of that people, who dared send such 
 dictating embassies to the Sultan of Tasgi. 
 
 He then commanded the ambassadors to be driven from 
 the encampment, and ordered his army to begin their hostili- 
 ties on the presumptuous Shakarahs. 
 
 The leaders of the armies of Tasgi being ignorant and im- 
 perious, every kind of tyranny and cruelty was practised, till 
 the wretched Shakarahs being made prisoners, and their wives 
 and families outraged or murdered, the Sultan Abudah returned 
 to the kingdom of Tasgi, with the spoils of the conquered 
 country, amidst the acclamations of the army and its leaders ; 
 who were so lavish of their praises and adulations, that 
 Abudah esteemed himself at least equal to the Prophet of 
 Mecca. 
 
 After Abudah arrived at the metropolis of Tasgi, his viziers 
 came to inquire of him where he would bestow the miserable 
 Shakarahs, most of whom they had led home in chains. 
 
THE TALISMAN" OF OROMANES. 
 
 45 
 
 Abudah was for some time doubtful of their fate ; and was at 
 last going to order a general execution, when he recollected 
 the iron chest, which was buried in the mountains of Tasgi. 
 
 " Let the Shakarahs," said the Sultan Abudah, "be con- 
 demned to work in the mountains of Tasgi, till they find an 
 iron chest with fifty locks." 
 
 At these words, the grand vizier, Harran, bowed before the 
 Sultan, and said : — " Will my lord dare to send the Shakarahs 
 into the womb of Tasgi, which his own subjects are forbidden 
 to approach?" 
 
 "Take the rebel Harran," said Abudah, in indignation, 
 " and let his head be severed from his body, and his tongue 
 let the dogs devour." 
 
 The other viziers gladly saw this execution performed on 
 Harran, and returned to the Sultan, and said: — "Far be it 
 that a monarch of the East should be governed by his slaves. 
 Be the will of the Sultan Abudah for ever obeyed, as it is in 
 the destruction of the traitor Harran ; as it is in the labours 
 of the Shakarahs in the mountains of Tasgi/' 
 
 Abudah hourly sent his viziers to inspect the miners in the 
 mountains, who returned with accounts of the death of 
 thousands, over whom the mountains crumbled, and smothered 
 them in its caverns. 
 
 The Tasgites, jealous of their mountain, which they supposed 
 was somewhat divine, began to murmur at the impiety of their 
 Sultan ; which, when Abudah knew, he commanded the leaders 
 of his army to chastise them, and to put every tenth man 
 throughout his kingdom to the sword. 
 
 At length the fainting Shakarahs dug out the chest of iron, 
 and brought it to Abudah, who commanded every engine of 
 force to be applied to it to break it open ; but in vain ; the 
 chest resisted all their endeavours, and would not yield to the 
 utmost force the art of man could bring against it. 
 
46 
 
 LIGHT FROM THE EAST. 
 
 Abudah then published a reward to any that should make 
 keys to fit the locks. This several undertook, and succeeded; 
 but as soon as one lock was opened, it shut while the artificer 
 was employed about the second. 
 
 Abudah, puffed up with pride, was enraged at this disap- 
 pointment, and commanded fifty men to take the fifty keys, 
 and all attempt it at once; which they did, and were all im- 
 mediately struck dead ; he then commanded a second fifty ; 
 but none but his army were near him, for the rest were fled 
 from the tyrant's presence. 
 
 Abudah now ordered fifty soldiers to approach : when the 
 leaders of the army, moved by his cruelties, and seeing he was 
 about to sacrifice his army as well as his subjects, uniting 
 together, came toward him in a body ; which Abudah per- 
 ceiving, and expecting no mercy, leaped on the chest, and 
 trusted himself to its saving power. 
 
 Immediately the chest moved aloft in the air ; and Abudah, 
 being stupified and giddy, fell into a deep sleep, and was 
 wafted far from the army and kingdom of Tasgi. 
 
 [The Merchant's Fourth Adventure is among the Sages of Nema. He 
 there beholds the insufficiency of Science, and the weakness of Philoso- 
 phy. The Chemist perishes in his attempt to regulate the powers of 
 nature ; and the Metaphysician, who boasts of his triumph over all 
 physical evils, finds a violent and sudden death.] 
 
 " Alas \" sighed the Merchant Abudah, " how vain is it for 
 weakness to boast of strength ; or for man, who is infirm, to 
 deny the reality of what he must hourly feel ! To boast of a 
 
THE TALISMAN OF OROMANES. 
 
 47 
 
 power over nature is, I see, the end of philosophy, which 
 should only with wonder contemplate what it cannot scan ; 
 much less ought the reptile man to vaunt itself superior to 
 the blessings or scourges of Him who is the ruler of the 
 universe." 
 
 With these reflections Abudah rose and advanced up a 
 lawn, which, winding between two mountains, brought the 
 merchant into a spacious plain, where he beheld innumerable 
 flocks feeding upon its surface, and shepherds and shepherdesses 
 tending their innocent charge. — " Here," said Abudah to 
 himself, " here is neither pomp, nor luxury, nor vanity ; here 
 is rural peace, and quietness, and tranquillity, which knows no 
 sorrow." 
 
 As thus Abudah mused within himself, he advanced towards 
 the shepherds and their flocks ; when, one passing near him 
 immediately ran, with the utmost precipitation, among the 
 rest, crying aloud — " Fly, fly, O my wandering and distressed 
 friends ; for the tyrant of Tasgi, not content with driving us 
 out from the land of Shakarah, is come down to bereave us of 
 our flocks and herds !" 
 
 Abudah was touched to the soul at this scene of distress and 
 confusion, which his former passions had occasioned, and 
 called to the poor wanderers to stay ; but they, fearing and 
 lamenting, drove their flocks along the plain, and with dread 
 looked back, expecting to see again the cruel armies of the 
 Tasgites. 
 
 One old venerable Brahmin alone, unable through age to 
 follow the Shakarahs, whom he had for many years instructed, 
 sat, with a majestic composure, on a square stone, which stood 
 at the entrance of his cell. As Abudah advanced he arose, 
 and made obeisance, saying : f€ Know, O Sultan, I rise not to 
 the Tyrant of Tasgi; but I bow before him whom it has pleased 
 
48 
 
 LIGHT FROM THE EAST. 
 
 Allah to set over his people. But wherefore shouldst thou 
 seek to do evil, that thou mayest reap good ? Are then bad 
 actions capable of salutary ends ; and is evil predominant that 
 purity may triumph ? Alas, O Sultan! not such are the 
 means of obtaining the talisman of the great and perfect Oro- 
 manes : purity and perfection, such as man may attain unto, 
 true virtue and benevolence, and a faithful religion, are the 
 means of possessing that treasure. Hasten, therefore, O man, 
 to the tomb of the Prophet, and there confess the follies and 
 iniquities of thy researches : and learn, from that fountain of 
 purity and truth, the will of him who ordained you to this 
 hitherto ineffectual toil." 
 
 " Good and pious Brahmin," replied Abudah, " much 
 have I abused both the gifts of Providence and you and your 
 poor innocent and distressed nation : but direct me in my 
 journey to Mecca, for I seem hitherto to have trodden on en- 
 chanted ground." 
 
 " The chest of adamant will convey you to Mecca," answered 
 the Brahmin. 
 
 u I left it," replied Abudah, " in the mansions of Philoso- 
 phy, which may not be found without crossing the brook, and 
 risking the fury of the tiger." 
 
 " There is," answered the Brahmin, " a path that leads 
 hence, round the brook, to the back of that mansion, into 
 which a small bridge will carry you over the brook: and may 
 Mahomet prosper your undertaking. Abudah then took leave 
 of the sage, assuring him that the Tasgites knew not of his 
 place of retreat ; and that he might rest with the Shakarahs 
 safely there, for no evil was intended them. The Brahmin 
 blessed Abudah as he parted." 
 
 The Sultan-Merchant hastened to the seminaries of learn- 
 ing ; where, taking possession of the chest, he threw himself 
 
THE TALIS MAX OF OROMANES. 
 
 49 
 
 on it, in full assurance that lie should awake in the temple of 
 Mecca. 
 
 In a short time, the Merchant Abudah found himself in an 
 awful mosque, reclining on the chest of adamant : on one side 
 stood the box which used to haunt his chamber with the 
 diminutive hag ; and on the other, a large cistern of water. 
 In a moment, with mildness in his aspect, stood the Genius 
 Barhaddan before him. 
 
 u At length," said he " Abudah, receive the true keys of 
 the adamantine chest." 
 
 At these words, the Merchant Abudah approached the 
 Genius ; and, having prostrated himself before him, received 
 the long-excepted keys. 
 
 " Begin," said Barhaddan, "O Abudah, and search for 
 thy treasure," Abudah obeyed ; and in a moment the locks 
 of the chest flew open. 
 
 Abudah, with a consciousness and dread, lifted up the lid 
 of the chest ; when instantly flew out a thousand feathers, 
 so that they covered the whole pavement of the mosque. 
 
 " Now," continued Barhaddan, " put in thine hand, and 
 draw forth the contents of the chest." Abudah obeyed ; and 
 first he took up a beautiful but bleeding hand, with a curious 
 bracelet of diamonds. 
 
 " That hand," said Barhaddan, " was severed from the body 
 of a fair sultana, by a slave, who could not unlock the brace- 
 let. Dost thou think, Abudah, the wearer was the happier 
 for that ornament ?" 
 
 As Abudah w r as going to draw again, out stepped a poor 
 wretch, laden with his bags of gold, trembling and looking 
 behind. Next, on a sudden, a gay youth, with a poignard, 
 stabbed the miser to the heart ; upon which several women, 
 in loose attire, came and shared with him the spoil, and began 
 
50 
 
 LIGHT PROM THE EAST. 
 
 dancing and singing. — These were followed by a crowd, among 
 whom was a crowned head, who ordered his soldiers to fall on 
 them and destroy them : then came a superior force, and put 
 a bowstring around the neck of him that was crowned : and 
 another stripped the crown from his head. — After these came 
 several madmen ; some with wings on their shoulders, some 
 with wheels, which they strove always to keep in motion : 
 some looking unto the skies, some drawing circles in the air 
 with straws, some jabbering ridiculous notions, that the same 
 quantity was both more and less than itself. 
 
 "When these were passed, Barhaddan asked Abudah, " Dost 
 thou understand these things ?" 
 
 " I understand by them," answered the Merchant, u (and 
 also by my travels), that neither riches, nor gaiety, nor honour, 
 nor power, nor science, nor learning, nor obscurity, is free 
 from the common accidents of life : and that, therefore, these 
 can never lead us to the perfect Talisman of Oromanes." 
 
 u What didst thou understand by the feathers ?" said Bar- 
 haddan. 
 
 " I knew not their meaning," answered Abudah. 
 
 u They," continued the Genius Barhaddan, " were the 
 thousand light, airy, inconsistent hopes and wishes, which lie 
 on the top of every man's heart : which have some kind of 
 tendency to the Talisman, and so they are the tirst on the top 
 of the chest. 
 
 " And now, O merchant Abudah," said Barhaddan, " art 
 thou convinced that the Talisman of Oromanes could not be 
 treasured among such refuse as these ? Shut down, therefore, 
 the chest, and attend with silence to the scene which will fol- 
 low." Abudah obeyed, standing like a mute, with his hands 
 before him. 
 
 "Now, thou wicked hag," said Barhaddan, "thou evil 
 
THE TALISMAN OF OR0MANES. 
 
 51 
 
 genius, who lovest to torment and mislead mankind, come 
 forth." At these words, the little box fell to pieces, and the 
 hag came trembling out on her crutches before Barhaddan. 
 
 " I know," said the pure Genius, " thy implacable nature, 
 and that thou delightest only in mischief and evil ; but, that 
 you may have some awe for those who regard mankind, stand 
 here, and see me purge the man whom thou hast enslaved 
 with worldly thoughts and desires." 
 
 Barhaddan then commanded Abudah to wash himself in the 
 cistern; which having performed, he ordered him a second 
 time to open the chest of adamant. Abudah, obeying, looked 
 in, and saw only a little book, which Barhaddan bade him read, 
 and he read these words aloud : — 
 
 " Know, O man, that human nature, which is imperfect, 
 cannot attain to perfection : that true happiness, which is the 
 real Talisman of Oromanes, being immortal, can be enjoyed 
 by immortals alone : that man, being a creature, is subject to 
 the commands of his Creator : and, therefore, a knowledge of 
 his will, and a faithful obedience to it, should be the first and 
 last pursuit of mortality, till it may please the Eternal Power 
 to remove him from trial to perfection, from earthly misery to 
 the eternal happiness of a glorious paradise." 
 
 As he ended these words, Abudah fell prostrate in the mosque, 
 and adored the Eternal Power above ; which the Genius seeing, 
 commended him. 
 
 Then Barhaddan, turning to the hag : — u Go," said he, 
 " false and wicked genius, into that chest, and there, for fifty 
 years, contemplate the happiness thou art so anxious to recom- 
 mend." The hag trembled and obeyed : the chest closed 
 with violence, the locks fastened themselves on, and the whole 
 was taken up like a whirlwind, and vanished away. 
 
 Abudah then looked around to thank the friendly Genius ; 
 
 e 2 
 
52 
 
 LIGHT FKOM THE EAST. 
 
 but he was gone : and, what surprised him more, he found 
 himself on his bed at Bagdad, and his wife and family weeping 
 around him. As he moved, Selima in transport ran to him, 
 and asked him if the life were in him ? 
 
 " In me \" said Abudah ; why, woman, I have been travel- 
 ling these three months : I have seen various countries and 
 kingdoms ; I have (but would I had not !) been crowned a 
 Sultan \" 
 
 "Oh" interrupted Selima, "my lord raves again. Thy 
 children and servants know, O Abudah ! that for four days 
 thou hast slept upon this sofa, and we feared thou wert dead." 
 
 " Is what I have seen, then, a dream ?" cried the merchant 
 Abudah : " then blessed be the Allwise, who has added unto 
 me knowledge without guilt \" 
 
 " But now, my lovely Selima," said Abudah, " I am released 
 from those terrors and uneasinesses which have made me a 
 burden to thee and to myself. Yes, Selima, I have learned ta 
 be content — the utmost man must expect upon earth ; and I 
 have learned to be obedient to Alia ; to love and cherish my 
 family, and to do good to mankind." 
 
 At these words, he again embraced his wife and children, 
 and the day was spent in happy endearments : nor lived there^ 
 a happier or more resigned and cheerful family in Bagdad than 
 in the house of the merchant Abudah. 
 
 The City of Bagdad was in former times the great emporium of 
 Eastern commerce, and its merchants, men of renown. There were then 
 considerable manufactories, and it was the central depot for all commo- 
 dities of the Eastern and Western world. It was, indeed, a place of much 
 trade until the last few years, but the commerce has been diverted, for 
 the Persians now send to Constantinople, by way of Erzeroum and 
 1$&at. >$he present city was founded a,d. 763, on the site of a former 
 towns 
 
THE TALISMAN OF OROMANES. 
 
 53 
 
 In the vicinity of Bagdad are the tombs of the Prophets Ezekiel and 
 Ezra — the former is nearer to the site of Babylon. That of Ezra is of a 
 rather important character : there are a considerable number of Jews resi- 
 dent at Bagdad, and very many pilgrimages are made to this sacred spot, 
 both by Jews and Moslems. 
 
 We have not attempted to realise the kingdoms and grades of the 
 author's imagination ; oriental imagery is well imitated ; in fact, we do 
 not know any purely English production that so near approaches Eastern 
 luxuriance of style. 
 
 The pashalic of Bagdad is a most extensive territory, and is traversed 
 by the Euphrates and Tigris, which ultimately unite and enter the Per- 
 sian Gulph in a single stream. This province, which comprehends the 
 principal part of Ancient Mesopotamia and Assyria, as well as the whole 
 of Babylonia and Chaldoea, is about 630 miles long, by 450 in breadth. 
 
IV. 
 
 Sty <ftffi 4 %pdk\i 
 
 FFLICTIONS in this life are, not unfrequently, 
 our merciful Creator's means of withdrawing 
 our too close attention to worldly affairs, by 
 causing us to seek happiness in the world to 
 come. Hence, those apparent punishments are 
 really proofs of mercy — " For whom the Lord 
 loveth he chasteneth." 
 
 This tale is a production of Dr. Joseph 
 Warton, and one of his contributions to the 
 Adventurer, and is intended to convey a 
 great moral lesson, that man should not pre- 
 sume to scrutinize the decrees of Omnipotence. 
 In some calamities and extreme misery — and 
 what can exceed the loss of a beloved child ? — there is a virtue nearly 
 related to contentment — namely, a patient resignation to the will 
 of God. Evils of any sort are most irksome when they come upon us 
 unexpected, and surprise us unprepared to bear them ; we think our 
 condition particularly hard, and ourselves singled out as it were by Pro- 
 vidence to suffer more than others, and persuade ourselves that any one 
 would be as uneasy as we are. But observations upon the course of 
 things will teach us to arm ourselves against disappointments, and not 
 expect a settled prosperity ; they will inform us of greater afflictions than 
 in all probability we have known, and of many persons who have shewed 
 an evenness of temper and a calmness of mind, under circumstances as 
 undesirable as ours, and who have made them light by bearing them 
 patiently. Our Saviour, speaking of good men tried by adversity, and 
 maintaining- their patience and integrity, represents them rather as objects 
 of reverence than compassion, and annexes blessedness to their condition* 
 
THE MERCY OF AFFLICTION". 
 
 Conduct nie, thou of beings cause divine, 
 Where'er I'm destined in thy great design ! 
 Active, I follow on : for should my will 
 Resist, I'm impious ; but must follow still. 
 
 — Seneca. 
 
 Bozaldab, Calipli of Egypt, had dwelt securely for many- 
 years in the silken pavilions of pleasure, and had every morn- 
 ing anointed his head with the oil of gladness, when his only 
 son, Aboram, for whom he had crowded his treasuries with 
 gold, extended his dominions with conquests, and secured them 
 with impregnable fortresses, was suddenly wounded, as he 
 was hunting, with an arrow from an unknown hand, and ex- 
 pired in the field. 
 
 Bozaldab, in the distraction of grief and despair, refused to 
 return to his palace, and retired to the gloomiest grotto in the 
 neighbouring mountain : he there rolled himself on the dust, 
 tore away the hairs of his hoary beard, and dashed the cup 
 of consolation that patience offered him to the ground. He 
 suffered not his minstrels to approach his presence; but 
 listened to the screams of the melancholy birds of midnight, 
 that flit through the solitary vaults and echoing chambers of 
 the pyramids. u Can that God be benevolent," he cried, 
 " who thus wounds the soul as from an ambush, with un- 
 expected arrows, and crushes his creatures in a moment with 
 irremediable calamity ? Ye lying Imans, prate to us no more 
 of the justice and the kindness of an all-directing and all- 
 loving Providence ! He, whom ye pretend reigns in heaven, 
 is so far from protecting the miserable sons of men, that he 
 
56 
 
 LIGHT FROM THE EAST. 
 
 perpetually delights to blast the sweetest flowerets in the 
 garden of hope ; and, like a malignant giant, to beat down 
 the towers of happiness with the iron mace of his anger. If 
 this Being possessed the goodness and the power with which 
 flattering priests have invested him, he would doubtless be 
 inclined, and enabled to banish those evils which render the 
 world a dungeon of distress, a vale of vanity and woe. — I will 
 continue in it no longer." 
 
 At that moment he furiously raised his hand, which despair 
 had armed with a dagger, to strike deep into his bosom ; 
 when suddenly thick flashes of lightning shot through the 
 cavern, and a being of more than human beauty and magni- 
 tude, arrayed in azure robes, crowned in amaranth, and 
 waving a branch of palm in his right hand, arrested the arm 
 of the trembling and astonished Caliph, and said, with a 
 majestic smile, " Follow me to the top of this mountain." 
 
 " Look from hence," said the awful conductor ; ft I am 
 Caloc, the Angel of Peace ; look from hence into the valley." 
 
 Bozaldab opened his eyes and beheld a barren, a sultry, 
 and solitary island, in the midst of w hich sat a pale, meagre, 
 and ghastly figure : it was a merchant just perishing w T ith 
 famine, and lamenting that he could find neither wild berries 
 nor a single spring in this forlorn uninhabited desert ; and 
 begging the protection of heaven against the tigers that would 
 now certainly destroy him, since he had consumed the las 
 fuel he had collected to make nightly fires to affright them. 
 He then cast a casket of jewels on the sand, as trifles of no 
 use ; and crept, feeble and trembling, to an eminence, where 
 he was accustomed to sit every evening to watch the setting 
 sun, and to give a signal to any ship that might happily ap- 
 proach the island. 
 
 " Inhabitant of heaven," cried Bozaldab, " suffer not this 
 
THE MEECY OF AFFLICTION. 
 
 57 
 
 wretch to perish by the fury of wild beasts." u Peace \" said 
 the angel, " and observe." 
 
 He looked again, and behold a vessel arrived at the desolate 
 isle. What words can paint the rapture of the starving mer- 
 chant, when the captain offered to transport him to his native 
 country, if he would reward him with half the jewels of his 
 casket. No sooner had this pitiless commander received the 
 stipulated sum, than he held a consultation with his crew, and 
 *hey agreed to seize the remaining jewels, and leave the un- 
 happy exile in the same helpless and lamentable condition in 
 which they discovered him. He wept and trembled, entreated 
 and implored in vain. 
 
 u Will Heaven permit such injustice to be practised V* ex- 
 claimed Bozaldab. " Look again, said the angel, " and behold 
 the very ship in which, shortsighted as thou art, thou wishedst 
 the merchant might embark, dashed in pieces on a rock : dost 
 thou not hear the cries of the sinking sailors ? Presume not 
 to direct the Governor of the Universe in his disposal of events. 
 The man whom thou hast pitied shall be taken from this 
 dreary solitude, but not by the method thou wouldst prescribe. 
 His vice was avarice, by which he became not only abominable, 
 but wretched; he fancied some mighty charm in wealth, 
 which, like the wand of Abdiel, would gratify every wish and 
 obviate every fear. This wealth he has now been taught not 
 only to despise but to abhor ; he cast his jewels upon the sand, 
 and confessed them to be useless ; he offered part of them to 
 the mariners, and perceived them to be pernicious; he has 
 now learned that they are rendered useful or vain, good or 
 evil, only by the situation and temper of the possessor. Happy 
 is he whom distress has taught wisdom ! But turn thine eyes 
 to another and more interesting scene." 
 
 The Caliph instantly beheld a magnificent palace, adorned 
 
58 
 
 LIGHT FROM THE EAST' 
 
 with the statues of his ancestors wrought in jasper; the ivory 
 doors of which, turning on hinges of the gold of Golconda, 
 discovered a throne of diamonds, surrounded with the rajahs 
 of fifty nations, and with ambassadors in various habits, and 
 of different complexions ; on which sat Aboram, the much 
 lamented son of Bozaldab, and by his side a princess fairer 
 than a houri. 
 
 " Gracious Alia ! — it is my son," cried the Caliph. "Oh, 
 let me hold him to my heart \" " Thou canst not grasp an 
 unsubstantial vision," replied the angel : " I am now showing 
 thee what would have been the destiny of thy son had he con- 
 tinued longer on the earth. " And why," returned Bozaldab, 
 " was he not permitted to continue ? Why was not I suffered 
 to be a witness of so much felicity and glory ? " Consider 
 the sequel," replied he that dwells in the fifth heaven. Boz- 
 aldab looked earnestly, and saw the countenance , of his son, 
 on which he had been used to behold the placid smile of sim- 
 plicity and the vivid blushes of health, now distorted with 
 rage and now fixed in the insensibility of drunkenness ; it was 
 again animated with disdain, it became pale with apprehension, 
 and appeared to be withered by intemperance ; his hands were 
 stained with blood, and he trembled by turns with fury and 
 terror ; the palace so lately shining with oriental pomp changed 
 suddenly into the cell of a dungeon, where his son lay stretched 
 out on the cold pavement, gagged and bound, with his eyes 
 put out. Soon after he perceived the favourite Sultana, who 
 before was seated by his side, enter with a bowl of poison, 
 which she compelled Aboran to drink, and afterwards mar- 
 ried the successor to his throne. 
 
 u Happy," said Caloc, " is he whom Providence has, by the 
 Angel of Death, snatched from guilt ! from whom that power 
 is withheld, which, if he had possessed, would have accumula- 
 
THE MERCY OF AFFLICTION. 
 
 59 
 
 ted upon himself yet greater misery than it could bring upon 
 others." 
 
 " It is enough," cried Bozaldab ; " I adore the inscrutable 
 schemes of Omniscience ! — From what dreadful evil has my 
 son been rescued by a death which I rashly bewailed as unfor- 
 tunate and premature ; a death of innocence and peace which 
 has blessed his memory upon earth, and transmitted his spirit 
 to the skies !" 
 
 " Cast away the dagger," replied the heavenly messenger, 
 " which thou wast preparing to plunge into thine own heart. 
 Exchange complaint for silence, and doubt for adoration. 
 Can a mortal look down without giddiness and stupefaction 
 into the vast abyss of eternal wisdom ? Can a mind that sees 
 not infinitely, perfectly comprehend any thing among an infi- 
 nity of objects mutually relative? Can the channels which 
 thou commandest to be cut to receive the annual inundations 
 of the Nile, contain the waters of the ocean? Remember that 
 perfect happiness cannot be conferred on a creature; for perfect 
 happiness is an attribute as incommunicable as perfect power 
 and eternity." 
 
 The angel, while he was speaking thus, stretched out his 
 pinions to fly back to the Empyreum ; and the flutter of his 
 wings was like the rushing of a cataract. 
 
 Caliph was the title of certain dynasties of Mohammedan sovereigns 
 regarded as successors and representatives of the prophet. There were 
 reigning at the same time the Abasside Caliphs in Bagdad ; the Fatimide 
 in Egypt, and the Omayyade in Spain. The first Fatimide Caliph, 
 
CO 
 
 LIGHT FHO:*t THE EAST. 
 
 Obeidailah, assumed the sovereign power a.d. 910, and Adhed, the last 
 of that dynasty, died a.d. 1171. The name of Bozaldab is, of course, 
 imaginary ; no Caliph so designated appears. Moez, the fourth Caliph, 
 who was the most renowned of the Fatimides, conquered Egypt, removed 
 his court there, and founded Cairo. He conquered the whole of Palestine 
 and Syria; his son Aziz, who succeeded him, married a Christian woman, 
 and he made her brothers patriarchs of Alexandria and Jerusalem. The 
 Caliph was at the same time the supreme pontiff and temporal sovereign 
 of the empire; and, in this twofold capacity, there may be said to be five 
 principal duties incident to the office, viz , prayer, the administration of 
 justice, the decision of matters not provided for by the laws, conduct of 
 the war against infidels, and the maintenance of order and security in the 
 state. 
 
V. 
 
 CARCELY any country on the globe affords 
 so much scope for the imagination as Tibet, 
 where is laid the locality of this tale. It is 
 an anonymous production, and appeared in a 
 forgotten periodical, some thirty years since. 
 It is a good picture of the habits of the coun- 
 try, as far as we are acquainted with Tibet: 
 certainly that knowledge is but slight, for, 
 being under the vassalage of the Chinese, 
 whose jealous exclusion of foreigners is a bar 
 to all improvement of manners and customs, 
 it is a rare circumstance to hear of an Euro- 
 pean traveller from Tibet. 
 The aim of the author is to set forth the advantages of knowledge, as, 
 by means of his acquirements in foreign lands, the slave Ackbar was 
 eventually restored to his parent and his home. Ackbar found the phy- 
 sicians to be mere empirics, who practised from experience only, and not 
 from well-grounded theory ; and hence he was enabled, by the light of 
 science, to achieve a cure. Even at the present day, the ignorant in 
 Britain, as well as the Orientals, have a great tendency to patronise 
 quacks, and this is not a little increased by the mystery with which their 
 proceedings are shrouded. They delight to surprise and astonish by re- 
 sults, but conceal the process : one accidental recovery out of a hundred 
 cases of failures is sufficient for their purpose. Now the character of 
 science is the direct contrary of this : it delights to lay itself open to in- 
 quiry, and is not satisfied with its conclusions, till it can make the road 
 to them broad and beaten ; its whole aim being to strip away all mysteiy, 
 to illuminate every dark recess, with a view to improve them on rational 
 principles. 
 
THE HALL OF SILENCE. 
 
 On the banks of the sonorous river Sanpoo or Dzangbo, 
 whose thundering cataracts refresh the burning soil, and 
 sometimes shake the mighty mountains that divide Tibet 
 from the Mogul empire, lived a wealthy and esteemed Lama, 
 whose lands were tributary to the supreme Lama, or sacerdotal 
 emperor, the governor of the whole country, from China to 
 the pathless desert of Cobi. But although his flocks and herds 
 were scattered over a hundred hills, and the number of his 
 slaves exceeded the stars in heaven, yet was he chiefly known 
 throughout all the East as the father of the beautiful Zerinda. 
 All the anxiety that Lama Zarin had ever experienced, arose 
 from the conviction that he must soon leave his beloved 
 daughter ; and the question was always present to his mind, 
 " who will guard her innocence when I shall have quitted her 
 for ever ?" The Lama was at this time afflicted with a dread- 
 ful malady, peculiar to the inhabitants of the country in which 
 he resided, which threatened, in spite of all that medicine 
 could do, to put a speedy end to his existence. 
 
 One day, after an unusually severe attack of his disorder, 
 he sent for the fair Zerinda, and gently motioning her to ap- 
 proach his couch, thus addressed her : — " Daughter of my 
 hopes and fears ! heaven grant that thou mayest smile for ever, 
 yet whilst my soul confesses its delight in gazing on thee, 
 attend to the last injunctions of thy dying father : The angel 
 of death, who admonishes and warns the faithful in the hour 
 of sickness before he strikes the fatal blow, has summoned me 
 to join thy sainted mother, who died in giving birth to thee. 
 
THE HALL OF SILENCE. 
 
 63 
 
 Yet let me not depart to the fearful land of death, and leave 
 my daughter unprotected. Oh ! my Zerinda, speak ! Hast 
 thou ever seriously reflected on the dangers to which thy 
 orphan state must shortly be exposed, surrounded as thou wilt 
 be by suitors of various dispositions and pretensions ; some 
 wooing, with mercenary cunning, thy possessions through thy 
 person ; others haughtily demanding both, and threatening a 
 helping heiress with their powerful love ?" He then reminded 
 his daughter that he had lately presented her with the por- 
 traits of several princes who had solicited an union with his 
 house, which they had sent to her according to the custom ol 
 Tibet, where the parties can never behold each other till they 
 are married ; proceeded to give a brief outline of their various 
 characters ; and concluded by asking her which of all these 
 mighty suitors she thought she should prefer? Zerinda 
 sighed, but answered not. Lama Zarin desired her to with- 
 draw, compare their several portraits, and endeavour to decide 
 on which of the Lamas she could bestow her love. At the 
 word love Zerinda blushed, though she knew not why ; — her 
 father, who saw the crimson on her cheek, but attributed it 
 to timidity, again urged her to withdraw, and be speedy in 
 her decision. Zerinda replied with a smile — ec My father 
 knows that he is the only man I ever saw, and I think the 
 only being I can ever love ; at least my love will ever be 
 confined to those objects which delight or benefit the author 
 of my being \" and turning round, she continued, playfully, 
 "I love this favourite dog which my father so frequently 
 caresses ; I loved the favourite horse on which my father rode, 
 until he stumbled, and endangered his master's life; but 
 when the tiger had dragged my father to the ground, and he 
 was delivered by his trusty slave, I loved Ackbar ; and 
 since my father daily acknowledges that he saved his life, I 
 
64 
 
 LIGHT FROM THE EAST. 
 
 I love Ackbar still." Zarin heard her artless confession with 
 a smile, but reminded her that Ackbar was a slave. " But 
 which of those Lamas who now demand my love has created 
 an interest in my heart by services rendered to thee like those 
 of the slave Ackbar ? And yet I have not seen either his per- 
 son or his picture ; nor know I whether he be old or young — 
 but I know that he saved the life of Lama Zarin, and therefore 
 do I love Ackbar." The old Lama gently reproved his child 
 for her freedom of expression : he explained to her that love 
 was impious, according to the laws of Tibet, between persons 
 of different ranks in society. Zerinda left her father, and as 
 she caressed her favourite dog a tear trembled in her eye, from 
 the apprehension that she might possibly be guilty of impiety. 
 
 About this time the slave Ackbar, who for his services had 
 been advanced from the chief of the shepherds to be chief of 
 the household, had an audience of his master : observing him 
 to be unusually dejected, he declared that he himself had ac- 
 quired some knowledge of medicine, and humbly begged per- 
 mission to try his skill in a case in which every other attempt 
 had proved unsuccessful. The Lama heard his proposal with 
 a mixture of pleasure and contempt. The slave, nothing 
 daunted by the apparent credulity of his master, proceeded — 
 " May Lama Zarin live for ever ! I boast no secret antidote, 
 no mystic charm, to work a sudden miracle ; but I have been 
 taught in Europe the gradual effects of alterative medicines ; 
 'tis from them alone that I hope to gain at length a complete 
 victory over your disease ; and if in seven days' time the 
 smallest change encourages me to persevere, I will then boldly 
 look forward, and either die or conquer." 
 
 Lama Zarin assented, and from that day became the 
 patient of Ackbar, whose new appointment of physician to 
 the Lama, gave him a right to remain always in his master's 
 
THE HALL OF SILENCE. 
 
 G5 
 
 presence, save when the beautiful Zerinda paid her daily 
 visit to her father, at which time he was invariably directed 
 to withdraw. 
 
 The first week had scarcely elapsed, when the Lama was 
 convinced that his disease was giving way to the medicines of 
 his favourite ; his paroxysms indeed returned, but grew every 
 day shorter in duration ; and in proportion as Ackbar became 
 less necessary in his capacity of physician, his company was 
 so much the more courted by Zarin as an associate. He 
 possessed a lively imagination, and had improved his naturally 
 good understanding by travel in distant countries. Thus his 
 conversation often turned on subjects which were quite new 
 to his delighted master. They talked of the laws, religion, 
 and customs, of foreign nations, comparing them with those 
 of Tibet : and by degrees the slave became the friend and 
 almost the equal of the Lama. Amongst other topics of 
 discourse, the latter would frequently enumerate the virtues 
 and endowments of his beloved daughter, whilst Ackbar 
 listened with an interest and delight for which he was quite at 
 a loss to account. On the other hand, the Lama, in the full- 
 ness of his gratitude, could not avoid speaking of the 
 wonderful skill and knowledge displayed by the slave, nor 
 forbear relating to Zerinda the substance of the various con- 
 versations which had passed between them. 
 
 It happened one day, when he had been repeating to his 
 daughter the account which the physician had given him of 
 European manners, that Zerinda blushed and sighed : her 
 father entreated to know the cause of her emotion, when she 
 confessed that he had so often mentioned the extraordinary 
 acquirements of this young slave, that she could think of 
 nothing else ; and that in her dreams she saw him, and 
 fancied he was a Lama worthy of her love; then turning to 
 
66 
 
 LIGHT FROM THE EAST. 
 
 her father, she asked, " Oh, Lama, tell me, can my sleep be 
 impious ?" Zarin beheld her with emotion, and told her that 
 she must think of him no more. " I will endeavour to obey," 
 she replied, "but I shall dream, and sleep will impiously 
 restore the thoughts which I will strive to banish during the 
 day." 
 
 The Lama, dreading the effects of the passion which he had 
 himself kindled in his daughter's breast, resolved never again 
 to mention in her presence the name of Ackbar; but this 
 resolution was formed too late : love of the purest kind had 
 taken possession of the maiden's heart, and whilst she 
 struggled to obey her father, her sunken eye, and wasted 
 form, proclaimed the strife of feeling in her breast. 
 
 It was impossible for Lama Zarin to conceal from his phy- 
 sician the sickness of Zerinda ; and whilst he confessed alarm 
 for his daughter's life, he plainly saw that he had too often 
 described that daughter to his favourite ; he saw, too, that 
 which it was impossible for Ackbar to conceal — that he had 
 been the fatal cause of a mutual passion between two lovers 
 who had never seen, and but for him, would never have heard 
 of each other. Thus circumstanced (even if the laws of 
 Tibet had permitted the visits of a male physician) prudence 
 would have forbidden his employing the only skill in which 
 he now had confidence ; but Zerinda, whose disease was occa- 
 sionally attended by delirium, would call upon the name of 
 Ackbar, and add, " He saved the life of my father, and he 
 only can save that of the dying Zerinda." 
 
 Overcome by his daughter's agony, the afflicted father in- 
 wardly cursed the cruel laws of Tibet, and assured her that 
 she should see the physician Ackbar. Zerinda listened with 
 ecstasy to the voice of Zarin ; and knowing that that which a 
 Lama promises must ever be performed, the assurance fell like 
 
THE HALL OF SILENCE. 
 
 67 
 
 balsam upon her heart ; but the Lama had not fixed the 
 period when his sacred promise should be fulfilled, nor could 
 he be prevailed on to do so till he had retired and weighed 
 the consequences of what had fallen from his lips. The 
 oftener he revolved the subject in his mind, the more the 
 difficulties appeared to diminish, till at length he resolved to 
 disregard the slavish prejudices and customs of his country. 
 
 Elated by the prospect of being enabled to secure the 
 future happiness of two individuals so deservedly dear to him, 
 he determined to ask the sanction of that higher power to 
 which all the Lamas of Tibet are subject. * He, accordingly, 
 lost no time in despatching messengers to the grand Lama 
 who resided at Lassa, and with whom his influence was so 
 great that he had sanguine hopes of obtaining whatever he 
 might request, even though the boon craved should be con- 
 trary to the existing laws of the country ; and being unable 
 to conceal the joy he felt at the consummation of happiness 
 which awaited -the lovers, he communicated to Ackbar the 
 plan of future bliss which he had formed for him, and raised 
 in the breast of the physician a transport of hope which 
 neither his love nor his ambition had ever before dared to 
 cherish. To Zerinda he promised that she should be with- 
 held the sight of her lover but one week longer, or till the 
 messenger should return from the great Lama at Lassa ! 
 
 From this time the physician was no longer necessary ; but 
 the week appeared an age to the expecting hearts of Ackbar 
 and the beautiful Zerinda. 
 
 Seven days having at length expired, the messenger arrived 
 from Lassa with the following reply : — " The most Sacred 
 Sultan the Sovereign Lama, who enjoys the life for ever, and 
 at whose nod a thousand Princes perish or revive, sendeth to 
 Lama Zarin greeting ; report hath long made known at Lassa 
 
 f 2 
 
68 
 
 LIGHT FROM THE EAST. 
 
 the beauty of the maid Zerinda ; and by thy messenger we 
 learn the matchless excellence of the slave Ackbar. In 
 answer, therefore, to thy prayer that these may be united, 
 mark the purpose of our sovereign will, which, not to obey, is 
 death, throughout the realms of Tibet. The lovers shall not 
 see each other, till they both stand before the sacred footsteps 
 of our throne at Lassa, that we ourselves may, in person, wit- 
 ness the emotion of their souls ! " 
 
 This answer, far from removing their suspense, created 
 feelings a thousand times more terrible. The Lama Zarin 
 believed that it portended ruin to himself and family : he now 
 reflected on the rash step which he had taken, and feared that 
 his sanguine hopes had been deceived by frequent conversa- 
 tions with a stranger, who had taught him to think lightly of 
 the laws and customs of Tibet. He again recalled to mind 
 the grand Lama's bigotry and zeal, and knowing that he must 
 obey the summons, trembled at his situation. 
 
 Ackbar was too much enamoured to think of any danger 
 which promised him a sight of his beloved mistress ; and the 
 only circumstance that occasioned him uneasiness was, lest 
 the beauty of Zerinda should tempt the Supreme Lama to 
 demand her for his own bride ; but Zerinda, whose thoughts 
 were all purity, revered the Lama for his decree, and believed 
 that it proceeded from his desire of being witness to the 
 mutual happiness of virtuous love : with these sentiments she 
 looked only with joy to the period of their departure, which 
 was fixed for the ensuing day ; when they set out with all the 
 pomp and splendour of an Eastern retinue. 
 
 After three days' journey, during which the Lama Zarin 
 sometimes travelled in the splendid palanquin of his daughter, 
 and sometimes rode on the same elephant with Ackbar, 
 dividing his attention between the conversation of each, but 
 
THE HALL OF SILENCE. 
 
 69 
 
 unable to suppress his apprehensions or dissipate the fears of 
 his foreboding mind, the cavalcade arrived at Lassa, and pro- 
 ceeded without delay to the tribunal, which was held in the 
 great " Hall of Silence." At the upper end of this superb 
 apartment sat, on a throne of massive gold, the Supreme 
 Lama ; before him, at some distance, were two altars, 
 smoking with a fragrant incense ; and around him knelt a 
 hundred Lamas, in silent adoration, (for in Tibet divine 
 honours are paid to the Supreme Lama, who is supposed to 
 live for ever, the same spirit passing from father to son). To 
 this solemn tribunal Lama Zarin was introduced by mutes, 
 from an apartment directly opposite to the throne, and knelt 
 in awful silence between the smoking altars. At the same 
 time, from two doors facing each other, were ushered in 
 Ackbar and Zerinda, each covered by a thick veil, and accom- 
 panied by a mute, both of whom fell prostrate before the 
 throne. A dreadful stillness now prevailed, — all was silent as 
 death, — whilst doubt, suspense, and horror, chilled the bosoms 
 of the expecting lovers. In this fearful interval the throbbings 
 of Zerinda's heart became distinctly audible; her father 
 heard them, and a half-smothered sigh stole from his bosom, 
 and resounded through the echoing dome. At length the 
 solemn, deep-toned voice of the Supreme Lama uttered these 
 words : " Attend ! and mark the will of him who speaks with 
 the lips of heaven ; arise ! and hear ! know that the promise 
 of a Lama is sacred as the words of Allah, therefore are ye 
 brought to behold each other, and in the august presence, by 
 a solemn union, to receive the reward of the love which a fond 
 father's praise has kindled in your souls, and which he having 
 promised, must be fulfilled. Prepare to remove the veils. 
 Let Lama Zarin join your hands, and then embrace each 
 other ; but on your lives utter not a word ; for know that in 
 
70 
 
 LIGHT FROM THE EAST. 
 
 the € Hall of Silence 3 'tis death for any tongue to speak save 
 that which utters the decrees of heaven !" 
 
 He ceased ; and his words resounding from the lofty roof, 
 gradually died upon the ear, till the same dreadful stillness 
 again pervaded the Hall; at length on a given signal the 
 mutes removed their veils at the same moment, and exhibited 
 the beauteous figures of Ackbar and Zerinda. They gazed in 
 speechless rapture on each other, till, by another sign from 
 the throne, the father joined their hands ; and Ackbar, as 
 commanded, embraced his lovely bride ; while she, unable to 
 support this trying moment, fainted in his arms. It was now 
 that her lover, unmindful of the prohibition, exclaimed — 
 " Help, my Zerinda dies!" Instantly the voice from the 
 throne ejaculated with dreadful emphasis, "Ackbar dies!" 
 upon which two mutes approached with the fatal bow-string, 
 and seizing their victim, fixed an instrument of silence upon 
 his lips, whilst others hurried away the fainting Zerinda, in- 
 sensible to the danger of her lover; but the Lama Zarin, 
 unable to restrain the anguish of his soul, cried out with bit- 
 terness — " If to speak be death let me die also ; but first, I 
 will execrate the savage customs, and curse the laws which 
 doom the innocent to death for so trivial an offence." He 
 would have proceeded, but the tyrant's slaves surrounded him 
 and prevented him from uttering another word. Silence 
 being restored, the Supreme Lama again vociferated — " Know, 
 presumptuous and devoted wretches, that before ye brake that 
 solemn law which enjoins silence in this sacred presence, ye 
 were already doomed to death ! Thou, Lama Zarin, for 
 daring to degrade the holy priesthood of Lamas, by marrying 
 thy daughter to a slave ; and thou, Ackbar, for presuming to 
 ally thyself with one of that sacred race. The promise 
 which Lama Zarin made was literally fulfilled ; these daring 
 
HALL OF SILENCE. 
 
 " It was now that Ackbar, unmindful of the prohibition, exclaimed—' Help, my Zerinda dies ! 
 
THt library 
 
 OF THE 
 
THE HALL OF SILENCE. 
 
 71 
 
 rebels against the laws of Tibet, have seen and been united to 
 each other ; and the embrace which was permitted was doomed 
 to be the last. Now, therefore/' added he, addressing the 
 mute, u perform your office on Ackbar first." They accord- 
 ingly bound their victim, who was already gagged, to one of 
 the altars, and were about to fix the silken string upon his 
 neck, when they on a sudden desisted, and prostrating them- 
 selves before Ackbar, performed the obeisance which is paid 
 only to the heir of the sacred throne of Lassa. A general 
 consternation seized all present, and the Supreme Lama, 
 descending from his throne, approached the victim, on whose 
 left shoulder (which had been uncovered by the executioner), 
 he now perceived the mystic characters by which the sacred 
 family of Tibet are always distinguished at their birth. When 
 he beheld the well-known mark, the voice of nature confirmed 
 the testimony of his eye-sight, and falling on the neck of 
 Ackbar, he exclaimed — " It is my son, my long lost son ! let 
 him speak : henceforth this place shall no longer be called 
 the ' Hall of Silence/ but c the Hall of Joy/ for in this 
 room will we celebrate to-morrow the nuptials of Ackbar and 
 Zerinda ! " 
 
 The history then goes on to explain this singular event by 
 relating that some Jesuit Missionaries who had gained access 
 to the capital of Tibet, in their zeal for their religion, had 
 found means to steal the young heir to the throne, then an 
 infant, hoping to make use of him in the conversion of his 
 father's people ; but in their retreat through the great desert 
 of Cobi, they had been attacked by a banditti, who slaughtered 
 them all, and sold the young Lama for a slave. He had 
 served in the Ottoman army, — he had been taken by the 
 Knights of Malta, afterwards became servant to a French 
 officer, with whom he travelled through Europe ; he finally 
 
72 
 
 LIGHT FROM THE EAST. 
 
 accompanied him to India ; there, in an engagement with the 
 Mahrattas, he had been again taken prisoner, and sold as a 
 slave to some merchants of Tibet ; by this means he came 
 into the service of the Lama Zarin, without knowing any- 
 thing of his origin, or the meaning of the characters he bore 
 on his left shoulder, and which had been the cause of effecting 
 this wonderful discovery. 
 
 The history concludes with an account of the nuptials of 
 Ackbar and Zerinda. Their happiness was unexampled ; for 
 the lessons which the young Lama had learned in the school 
 of adversity, and the observations he had made in the various 
 countries through which he had travelled, prepared him to 
 abolish many of the cruel and impious customs which had till 
 then disgraced the legislature of Tibet. 
 
 Tibet forms a mountain ridge of a very peculiar character, and presents 
 a region in every way distinct from the neighbouring territories of Persia 
 or Hindoostan. The whole country is one series of rude plains, covered 
 with scanty herbage, diversified by rocky heights, under whose shelter a 
 few rough built villages find protection from the chilling winds of the 
 snow-clad mountains that enclose it. 
 
 Society in Tibet is at a very low ebb : religion forms the essential 
 basis of the constitution, both civil and social : the system which here 
 holds sway is that known in Asia under the title of Boodhism, the human 
 being its sovereign head. The objects of worship are mortals exalted 
 into deities, instead of a spiritual and eternal Author of the universe. As 
 soon as the Lama dies, the priests, by supposed celestial indications, dis- 
 cover an infant with whom his soul is supposed to have transmigrated. 
 This person is immediately exalted into the character of Lama, and in his 
 
THE HALL OF SILENCE. 
 
 73 
 
 name all the civil and ecclesiastical affairs of the state are administered. 
 Each district has its Lama, but there is a chief called the Grand Lama, 
 who resides at Lassa. At Lassa is the temple of Pootata, which is said to be 
 367 feet high ; it contains ten thousand apartments filled with images in 
 gold and silver, and has its roof richly gilded. In the surrounding plains 
 are twenty-two other temples, all richly adorned ; and we are assured 
 that the entire number of priests and monks maintained at the expense 
 of the country is little short of ten thousand. Missionaries inform u3 
 that many of their religious ceremonies have a striking resemblance to 
 those of the Church of Eome. 
 
VI. 
 
 %hv4; mil 4w 
 
 ALUE of LIFE, as fixed by Hope and Fear, 
 and, therefore, dependent on the Will, is the 
 doctrine the author of the narrative that fol- 
 low, desires to enforce. 
 
 The story is by Dr. Hawkesworth, and form g 
 No. 114 of The Adventurer. The divine pre- 
 cept it enforces, is one that Christ and his 
 Apostles taught. St. Paul admonishes us thus — 
 u Set your affections on things above, not jn 
 things on earth." In the same proportion that 
 the love of the world increases in our hearts, 
 so does our love of God diminish. The final 
 happiness or misery of man being placed at a 
 distance from our present state, we are apt to think they are further off 
 than they really are. Under this false impression., we frame a thousand 
 excuses, and, inconsiderately and fatally for ourselves, set our affections on 
 earthly things, and fix our tabernacle here. It is a most certain and 
 evident truth, that if any person firmly believed a future state of happi- 
 ness, and could entertain an humble and modest hope that he should 
 have some share in it, he would more easily rest satisfied with his con- 
 dition for the few days of his pilgrimage here below. The expectation of 
 undisturbed peace and rest from all troubles, the hope of living for ever 
 with God and angelic beings, and of making continual progress in 
 wisdom and knowledge, in virtue and every amiable disposition, would 
 compose the mind, and raise it above care and disquiet. Temporal in- 
 conveniences would then seem little, and the common objects of men's 
 hopes and fears would appear but as shadows. 
 
ALMET; OR, HOPE AND FEAR. 
 
 "Whoe'er enjoys the untroubled breast, 
 "With virtue's tranquil wisdom blest ; 
 With hope the gloomy hour can cheer, 
 And temper happiness with fear. Horace. 
 
 Almet, the dervise, who watched the sacred lamp in the 
 sepulchre of the Prophet, as he one day rose up from the de- 
 votions of the morning, which he had performed at the gate 
 of the temple, with his body turned towards the east and his 
 forehead on the earth, saw before him a man in splendid appa- 
 rel, attended by a long retinue, who gazed steadfastly at him 
 with a look of mournful complacence, and seemed desirous to 
 speak, but unwilling to offend. 
 
 The dervise, after a short silence, advanced, and saluting 
 him with the calm dignity which independence confers upon 
 humility, requested that he would reveal his purpose. 
 
 " Almet," said the stranger, " thou seest before thee a man 
 whom the hand of prosperity has overwhelmed with wretched- 
 ness. Whatever I once desired as the means of happiness I 
 now possess ; but I am not yet happy, and therefore I despair. 
 I regret the lapse of time, because it glides away without en- 
 joyment ; and as I expect nothing in the future but the vanities 
 of the past, I do not wish that the future should arrive. Yet 
 I tremble lest it should be cut off; and my heart sinks 
 when I anticipate the moment in which eternity shall close 
 over the vacuity of my life like the sea upon the path of a 
 ship, and leave no traces of my existence more durable than 
 the furrow which remains after the waves have united. If, in 
 the treasures of thy wisdom, there is any precept to obtain 
 
76 
 
 LIGHT FBOM THE EAST. 
 
 felicity, vouchsafe it to me : for this purpose I am come ; a 
 purpose which yet I feared to reveal, lest, like all the former, 
 it should be disappointed." Almet listened with looks of as- 
 tonishment and pity to this complaint of a being in whom 
 reason was known to be a pledge of immortality ; but the se- 
 renity of his countenance soon returned : and stretching out 
 his hand towards Heaven, " Stranger," said he, u the knowledge 
 which I have received from the Prophet, I will communicate 
 to thee. 
 
 " As I was sitting one evening at the porch of the temple, 
 pensive and alone, mine eye wandered among the multitude 
 that was scattered before me ; and while I remarked the 
 weariness and solicitude which was visible in every counte- 
 nance, I was suddenly struck with a sense of their condition. 
 u Wretched mortals," said I, u to what purpose are you busy ? 
 if to produce happiness, by whom is it enjoyed ? Do the 
 linens of Egypt, and the silks of Persia, bestow felicity on 
 those that wear them equal to the wretchedness of yonder 
 slaves whom I see leading the camels that bring them ? Is 
 the fineness of the texture, or the splendour of the tints, re- 
 garded with delight by those to whom custom has rendered 
 them familiar ? or can the power of habit render others insen- 
 sible of pain, who live only to traverse the desert ; a scene of 
 dreadful uniformity, where a barren level is bounded only by 
 the horizon : where no change of prospect, or variety of images, 
 relieves the traveller from a sense of toil and danger, of whirl- 
 winds which in a moment may bury him in the sand, and of 
 thirst which the wealthy have given half their possessions to 
 allay ? Do those on whom hereditary diamonds sparkle with 
 unregarded lustre gain from the possession what is lost by the 
 wretch who seeks them in the mine ; who lives excluded from 
 the common bounties of nature j to whom even the vicissitude 
 
ALMET; OK, HOPE AND FEAR. 
 
 77 
 
 of day and night is not known ; who sighs in perpetual dark- 
 ness, and whose life is one mournful alternative of insensibility 
 and labour ? If those are not happy who possess, in propor- 
 tion as those are wretched who bestow, how vain a dream is 
 the life of man ? and if there is, indeed, such difference in the 
 value of existence, how shall w r e acquit of partiality the hand 
 by which this difference has been made ? 
 
 M "While my thoughts thus multiplied, and my heart burned 
 within me, I became sensible of a sudden influence from above. 
 The streets and the crowds of Mecca disappeared : I found 
 myself sitting on the declivity of a mountain, and perceived 
 at my right hand an angel, whom I knew to be Azoran, the 
 minister of reproof. When I saw him, I was afraid. I cast 
 mine eye upon the ground, and was about to deprecate his 
 anger, when he commanded me to be silent. " Almet," said 
 he, " thou hast devoted thy life to meditation that thy counsel 
 might deliver ignorance from the mazes of error, and deter 
 presumption from the precipice of guilt ; but the book of 
 nature thou hast read without understanding ; it is again open 
 before thee : look up, consider it, and be wise/' 
 
 a I looked up, and beheld an enclosure, beautiful as the 
 gardens of Paradise, but of a small extent. Through the 
 middle there was a green walk ; at the end, a wild desert ; 
 and beyond, impenetrable darkness. The walk was shaded 
 with trees of every kind, that were covered at once with blos- 
 soms and fruit ; innumerable birds were singing in the 
 branches ; the grass was intermingled with flowers, which im- 
 pregnated the breeze with fragrance, and painted the path 
 with beauty : on one side flowed a gentle transparent stream, 
 which was just heard to murmur over the golden sands that 
 sparkled at the bottom ; and on the other were walks and 
 bowers, fountains, grottos, and cascades, which diversified the 
 scene with endless variety, but did not conceal the bounds. 
 
78 
 
 LIGHT FROM THE EAST. 
 
 " While I was gazing in a transport of delight and wonder 
 on this enchanting spot, I perceived a man stealing along 
 the walk with a thoughtful and deliberate pace : his eyes were 
 fixed upon the earth, and his arms crossed on his bosom ; he 
 sometimes started, as if a sudden pang had seized him; 
 his countenance expressed solicitude and terror ; he looked 
 round with a sigh, and having gazed a moment on the desert 
 that lay before him, he seemed as if he wished to stop, but was 
 impelled forwards by some invisible power : his features how- 
 ever, soon settled again into a calm melancholy, his eye was 
 again fixed on the ground : and he went on, as before, with 
 apparent reluctance, but without emotion. I was struck with 
 this appearance ; and, turning hastily to the angel, was about 
 to inquire what could produce such infelicity in a being sur- 
 rounded with every object that could gratify every sense ; but 
 he prevented my request : 1 The book of nature/ said he, c is 
 before thee ; look up, consider it, and wise/ I looked, and 
 beheld a valley between two mountains that were craggy and 
 barren j on the path there was no verdure, and the mountains 
 afforded no shade ; the sun burned in the zenith, and every 
 spring was dried up ; but the valley terminated in a country 
 that was pleasant and fertile, shaded with woods, and adorned 
 with buildings. At a second view, I discovered a man in this 
 valley, meagre indeed, and naked, but his countenance was 
 cheerful and his deportment active : he kept his eye fixed 
 upon the country before him, and looked as if he would have 
 run, but that he was restrained, as the other had been im- 
 pelled, by some secret influence : sometimes, indeed, I per- 
 ceived a sudden expression of pain, and sometimes he stopped 
 short, as if his foot was pierced by the asperities of the way ; 
 but the sprightliness of his countenance instantly returned, 
 and he pressed forward without appearance of repining or 
 complaint. 
 
ALMET ; OR, HOPE AND [FEAR. 
 
 79 
 
 u I turned again towards the angel, impatient to inquire 
 from what secret source happiness was derived, in a situation 
 so different from that in which it might have been expected ; 
 but he again prevented my request : c Almet/ said he, ' re- 
 member what thou hast seen, and let this memorial be written 
 upon the tablet of thy heart. Remember, Almet, that the 
 world in which thou art placed is but the road to another ; and 
 that happiness depends not upon the path, but the end : the 
 value of this period of thy existence is fixed by hope and fear. 
 The wretch who wished to linger in the garden, who looked 
 round upon its limits with terror, was destitute of enjoyment, 
 because he was destitute of hope, and was perpetually tor- 
 mented by the dread of losing that which yet he did not enjoy. 
 The song of the birds had been repeated till it was not heard, 
 and the flowers had so often recurred that their beauty was 
 not seen ; the river glided by unnoticed ; and he feared to lift 
 his eye to the prospect, lest he should behold the waste that 
 circumscribed it. But he that toiled through the valley was 
 happy, because he looked forward with hope. Thus, to the 
 sojourner upon earth, it is of little moment whether the path 
 he treads be strewed with flowers or with thorns, if he per- 
 ceives himself to approach those regions in comparison of which 
 the thorns and the flowers of the wilderness lose their distinc- 
 tion, and are both alike impotent to give pleasure or pain. 
 
 u ' What then has Eternal Wisdom unequally distributed ? 
 That which can make every station happy, and without which 
 every station must be wretched, is acquired by virtue, and vir- 
 tue is possible to all. Remember, Almet, the vision which 
 thou hast seen ; and let my words be written on the tablet of 
 thy heart, that thou mayest direct the wanderer to happiness, 
 and justify God to men/ 
 
 " While the voice of Azoran was yet sounding in my ear, 
 
80 
 
 LIGHT FEOM THE EAST. 
 
 the prospect vanished from before me, and I found myself 
 again sitting at the porch of the temple. The sun was gone 
 down, the multitude was retired to rest, and the solemn quiet 
 of midnight concurred with the resolution of my doubts to 
 complete the tranquillity of my mind. 
 
 u Such, my son, was the vision which the Prophet vouch- 
 safed me, not for my sake only, but for thine. Thou hast 
 sought felicity in temporal things ; and, therefore, thou art 
 disappointed. Let not instruction be lost upon thee, as the 
 seal of Mohammed in the well of Aris: but go thy way, let thy 
 flock clothe the naked, and thy table feed the hungry : deliver 
 the poor from oppression, and let thy conversation be above. 
 Thus shalt thou c rejoice in hope/ and look forward to the end 
 of life as the consummation of this felicity." 
 
 Almet, in whose breast devotion kindled as he spake, re- 
 turned into the temple, and the stranger retired in peace. 
 
 The sepulchre of the] prophet Mohammed is at Medina. Mecca and 
 Medina (the one being the prophet's birth-place, and the other as contain- 
 ing his tomb) are places of great veneration with all devout Moslems, and 
 vast numbers annually make pilgrimages thereto. The district in which 
 these holy cities are placed is, except on the side towards the Red Sea, 
 surrounded by mountains, and was, until very recently, forbidden to be 
 trodden by Europeans. The houses in Mecca are superior to all others 
 in the East, and a very active commerce is combined with the pil- 
 grimage, as we are led to believe that devotion alone contributes but few 
 visitors, the great majority of votaries uniting trade with their piety. 
 Medina is a city very inferior ; the houses do not rival Mecca. The 
 great mosque which encloses the tomb is very splendid, being surrounded 
 by numerous pillars of jasper, marble and porphyry, on which sentences 
 in gold are inscribed. The tomb itself is remarkably plain. 
 
ALMKT; OE, HOPE AND FEAR. 
 
 81 
 
 Dervise (Derwish is a Persian word, signifying poor and indigent). 
 This is a name given to various Mahometan priests or monks : many of 
 them travel over the whole eastern world, entertaining the people 
 wherever they come with agreeable relations of their adventures, the 
 wonders they have met with, and, as in the case of Almet, enforcing moral 
 and religious truths by means of fable and fiction, clothed in the glowing 
 language of eastern imagery. In their religious opinions the greatest 
 variety prevails, as there are numerous orders. The name is synony- 
 mous with the Arabic word Fakir, both expressions being employed in 
 Mahometan countries to designate the various religious classes that in 
 Christendom are termed Monks and Friars. Extension of intercourse 
 with Europeans have caused Dervises to lose the rank and esteem in 
 which they were formerly held, and, at the present day, they are regarded 
 rather in the light of hypocrites, who have assumed a sanctimonious 
 appearance as a pretext for idleness. 
 
 6 
 
VII. 
 
 EIEVOUS as the trials and sufferings were to 
 the brave Ishmael, they had their reward in the 
 fond affection of his bride. 
 
 The tale is an anonymous production. It ap- 
 peared in an extinct miscellany some thirty years' 
 since. It exhibits the cruel and desolating war- 
 fare that has throughout ages characterised the 
 countries subjected to Turkish rule. The Arab 
 is the same wild man of the desert, the descendant 
 of Ishmael, whose hand is against every man, and 
 certainly his Turkish neighbour is not likely to 
 improve his habits. Although robbery and vio- 
 lence is his accustomed practice, travellers relate many instances of kind- 
 ness and care of the Arabs during illness. The Arab is of all races of 
 men the least changed : his manners, habits, and even his costume has 
 undergone but very trifling alteration since the time of the patriarchs. 
 Burckhardt tells us that the Kahtan tribe, which at the present da}^ is 
 one of the wealthiest tribes of the eastern desert of Arabia, is descended 
 from Khatan or Jaktah, son of Heber, whose other son, Peleg, was the 
 ancestor of Abraham. The same traveller also informs us, that as four 
 thousand years ago Jacob was a plain man, dwelling in tents, Hyad, at 
 this day, the richest sheik, lives like the meanest of his Arabs ; they both 
 eat every day the same dishes, and in the same quantity, and never par- 
 take of any luxury except on the arrival of a stranger, when the host's 
 tent is open to all his friends : the dress of all is alike. In further illus- 
 tration of the Arabs' unchangeable character, is the interpretation 
 afforded us of the covenant of salt — (Numbers xviii. 19)— that the act of 
 
THE DIAMOND OE THE DESEET. 
 
 eating salt together constitutes the inviolability of an engagement ; it is 
 not that salt itself is selected in any other way than that it is generally 
 mixed with all kinds of food, and thus whenever the stranger is admitted 
 to partake of food in the tent of the children of the desert, his person and 
 property becomes from that instant safe from violence. We have, in our 
 Saviour's parable of the good Samaritan, an instance of the cruel deeds of 
 the Arab ; and in the same locality, in 1820, Sir Frederick Henniker was 
 robbed and stripped naked by them. The tribes that roam that district 
 are not possessed of any of the more admirable traits that distinguish the 
 tribe mentioned by Burckhardt. 
 
THE DIAMOND OF THE DESERT. 
 
 In one of those skirmishes which are so continually occur- 
 ring between the Arabs of the Desert and the Molsallam or 
 Governor of Jerusalem, the Turkish troops captured, near 
 the valley of Begaa, a young Sheik of distinguished bravery, 
 whose name was Ishmael ; and whose father, Ahmed, the son 
 of Bahir, was the Chief of the Wahydyahs, one of the most 
 ancient and important tribes in Syria. The young Bedouin 
 was surprised in an ambuscade ; but resolving to sell his life 
 as dearly as he could, resisted his assailants for some time with 
 unexampled valour; and it was not until he had received 
 several desperate wounds, that he at length suffered himself to 
 be overpowered and taken prisoner. Indeed, so truly pitiable 
 was his condition, that it was with great difficulty he was 
 transported to J erusalem alive. On his arrival in the Holy 
 City he was immediately conveyed into the court of the 
 governor's palace, where he was placed upon the ground, with 
 a marble column at his back to support him, until the decision 
 of the Molsallam, as to his final destination, should be ascer- 
 tained. A death-like paleness overspread his countenance, 
 but had not subdued the manly and noble dignity of his fea- 
 tures, — still instinct with a vital scorn of his enemies. A 
 smile of proud defiance lingered on his bloodless lip ; yet his 
 ghastly wounds and the rigidity of his limbs seemed to indi- 
 cate to the by-standers that the night of the grave was rapidly 
 closing over the head of that youthful warrior, whose daring 
 soul and resistless arm had made him at once an object of 
 terror and admiration throughout all Syria. Life was, how- 
 
THE DIAMOND OF THE DESERT. 
 
 85 
 
 ever, not wholly extinct, and that which would certainly have 
 been denied from a feeling of compassion, was conceded from 
 a motive of interest, to the expiring Bedouin. 
 
 The Molsallam expecting, as a matter of course, that a 
 liberal ransom would be offered for the release of the only son 
 of the Sheik of Wahydyah, sent for the Dragoman of the 
 Convent of the Holy City, who passed for a skilful physician. 
 " Hakim," said he, " as thou hast been favoured by heaven 
 with the gift of healing, and enjoyest the reputation of an 
 admirable leech, I confide this capture to thy care ; if it be 
 possible to preserve his life, take him to thy dwelling; but 
 swear to deliver him into my hands on the twentieth of the 
 moon Schowal ; for, if through either thy neglect or perfidy, 
 the slave is suffered to escape, thou shalt answer for the trea- 
 son with thy head : but if, on the other hand, thou art able 
 to restore him to health, and he is forthcoming at the time 
 appointed, one half the treasure paid for his liberation shall be 
 thine/'' The Dragoman bowed his assent, and having atten- 
 tively examined the wounds of the young Sheik, replied, 
 (placing, as he spoke, his hand successively on his breast, his 
 beard, and his forehead) "Your Highnesses orders shall be 
 obeyed ; commit your prisoner to my charge, and I will 
 endeavour to effect his restoration so completely, that he 
 shall be worth whatever ransom your justice may demand for 
 his release." # The dying Ishmael was accordingly conveyed 
 to the house of the Dragoman, whose name was Youhanna 
 Ebn Temym, and who was possessed of a large share of Chris- 
 tian charity. His residence was situated near the gate of St. 
 Stephen, and his garden was partly enclosed by an angle of 
 the wall that bounded the pool of Bethesda — that stream 
 which had in the earliest ages of Christianity wrought so 
 many miraculous cures on those who resorted to it. Miriam, 
 
86 
 
 LIGHT FROM THE EAST. 
 
 the loveliest of the daughters of Palestine, heard the repeated 
 knocks of the Dragoman and his attendants ; and having re- 
 cognised the voice of Ebn Temym, her father, opened the 
 door, which, like those of all the Christian residents of Jeru- 
 salem, was usually barricaded. It was not without considerable 
 surprise and alarm that she beheld the servants of the 
 Molsallam, bearing among them the almost lifeless body of 
 the young Sheik. " Daughter," said the Dragoman, u I 
 bring thee an unhappy sufferer ; v and the pensively beautiful 
 face of Miriam immediately brightened with compassion ; — 
 Cc He is the bravest of the Bedouin chiefs, the son of Ahmed, 
 the Sheik of Wahydyah." " What, so young \" mournfully 
 responded the fair Christian ; " and is this he who has ren- 
 dered himself so celebrated among the Bethlehemites ? Oh, 
 my dear father ! let us pardon him ; let us remember the 
 example of the good Samaritan, and pour oil upon his wounds, 
 and comfort into his soul. Oh that your skill may enable 
 you to save the life of this unfortunate youth \" " Quick," 
 said Ebn Temym, " haste, daughter, and bring me bandages 
 of linen, and the balsam of Zaggoura ; 99 Miriam waited for no 
 other bidding ; she flew to perform the injunctions of her 
 father, and, during her absence, Ishmael was placed on the 
 divan. She returned almost instantaneously, and having 
 herself prepared the lint, knelt down and sustained in her 
 arms the declining head of the young captive ; eagerly watch- 
 ing the countenance of the good Dragoman, in order to 
 ascertain his opinion of the condition of his patient, whose 
 last sigh appeared to be almost fluttering on his lips. His 
 head was, as she continued to support it, pressed against her * 
 beating heart, whilst she regarded every alteration of his 
 ghastly features with the most intense watchfulness and 
 anxiety ; but his eyes still remained closed, and their long 
 
THE DIAMOND OF THE DESERT. 
 
 87 
 
 dark lashes served only to contrast with the deadly paleness 
 of his cheek. A deep gash passed across his bosom ; Ebn 
 Temym expressed his fears that it was mortal. Miriam, in 
 whose susceptible heart the sufferings of Ishmael had already 
 created a powerful enterest, shuddered at her father's words, 
 and pressed the drooping head of the sufferer still more ten- 
 derly to her heart. She no longer regarded him as a stranger ; 
 his misfortunes had given him a claim upon her sympathies, 
 which nothing else could have secured him ; and she knelt by 
 his side and continued to staunch the blood that still flowed 
 profusely from his temples upon his unbound turban. She 
 could no longer restrain her tears, and they fell upon the fore- 
 head of the feeble Arab. A balm so precious might almost 
 have sufficed to have awakened him from the sleep of eternity. 
 He slowly opened his eyes, and, at length, fixed them upon 
 the beautiful face that was bent above him. Delirious, from 
 the effects of the fever which the agony of his wounds had 
 occasioned, <c Mahomet," whispered he, u am I then in Para- 
 dise V 3 " Oh ! Virgin Mother of the Son of God," exclaimed 
 Miriam, u he still lives! blessed be thy name ; comfort, I 
 beseech thee this poor infidel, for without thy aid we can do . 
 nothing." 
 
 During the entire period of his long and painful illness, 
 Ebn Temym and his daughter tended with unremitting 
 solicitude the couch of the son of Ahmed. Day after day he 
 grew more sensible of the soothing attentions and sympathiz- 
 ing kindnesses of the beautiful Miriam, and gratitude and 
 admiration operating upon his warm and enthusiastic feelings, 
 he delivered himself up to all the impulses of the most intense 
 and passionate adoration ; — as his frame gathered strength, the 
 weakness (if love be weakness) of his soul increased ; and he 
 lived but in the smiles of the gentle daughter of Ebn Temym. 
 
88 
 
 LIGHT FROM THE EAST. 
 
 As soon as he was sufficiently recovered to walk out, Miriam 
 led him beneath the sycamore whose branches overshadowed 
 the house and garden of the Dragoman. Seated by his side^ 
 ahe questioned him concerning the wars of his tribe, the re- 
 venge of the Wahydyahs upon the treacherous Djezzar Pacha, 
 the condition of his family, and the customs and amusements 
 of the wanderers of the Desert : whilst he, in return, expressed 
 a wish to be instructed in her creed, and sought to know in 
 what it differed from the belief of his fathers. Twilight fre- 
 quently surprised them in these long and sweet discourses^ 
 and they were often only awakened to a sense of the reality of 
 their existence by the evening chaunt of the Muezzin, wha 
 from the minarets of the splendid mosque of El Harem, called 
 the Mussulmans to prayer. 
 
 " Miriam," said the Arab ; on one glorious evening when 
 their delicious conference had been prolonged until the stars 
 were beginning to begem the deep blue skies above them — 
 " Miriam, you have taught me to forget my father, my pro- 
 phet, and my tribe. You have rescued me from the over- 
 whelming power of the Angel of Death only to deliver me 
 over to all the agonizing anxieties of the most impassioned 
 love. Either my ashes must become as dust to be scattered 
 over the land by the lightest breezes of Yemen, or I must 
 build for thee the bridal bower in the Desert. My parents 
 will rejoice in such a daughter; all the Wahydyahs will kiss 
 he hem of Ebn Temym's garment ; and the fairest maidens, 
 of the Kabyla will contend for the honour of washing the dust 
 from thy feet," Miriam, touched and troubled by the warmth 
 and tenderness of this appeal, could only reply that she was a 
 Christian, and that everything in life separated them. "Alas I" 
 added she mournfully, " Death will, perhaps,! be less unjust to 
 us than fortune." A few short moons abundantly confirmed 
 
THE DIAMOND OF THE DESERT. 
 
 89 
 
 the melancholy presentiment which ^was contained in these 
 few wild and simple words. 
 
 The Pacha of Damascus, jealous of the rapidly increasing 
 treasures of the Molsallam of Jerusalem, covened a Divan, 
 and, after having obtained its sanction, reproached him with 
 his manifold acts of tyranny and injustice, and put him to 
 death. His next step was to instal one of his own favourites 
 in the government of Jerusalem, and this man sought to repay 
 the kindness of his patron by an offering worthy the barbarian 
 whose lust of rapine and cruelty it was intended to gratify. 
 He sacked the Convent of the Holy Sepulchre, and those of the 
 Armenians and Greeks throughout Palestine. Twenty of the 
 wealthiest J ews expired under the bastinado of the Chiaoux 
 and the whole city of Jerusalem became one scene of lamenta- 
 tion and despair. 
 
 " Listen, son of Ahmed," said the Dragoman to the young 
 Sheik committed to his custody ; " although bound by a sacred 
 oath to the late Molsallam, to deliver thee into his hands on 
 the twentieth of the moon Schowal, I have promised nothing 
 to his successor ; if thy strength permits, profit by the confu- 
 sion which now reigns in the city : depart at sunset by the gate 
 ofNabyDaoud; conceal thyself in the grottos of Aceldama ; 
 the sepulchres will furnish thee a secure asylum until the hour 
 of evening, when thou canst shape thy steps with caution to- 
 wards the Desert ; and may that God who has already restored 
 thee from the arms of death, protect thee in thy flight, and 
 grant a long life to thee and to thy kindred. Peace be with 
 thee V } The pale cheek of Miriam became crimsoned with 
 emotion, and the cup of sherbrt she was in the act of offering 
 to her lover dropped from her trembling hand, on hearing this 
 address. " O, my father," rejoined Ishmael with melancholy 
 earnestness, " can you desire me to depart and leave my pro- 
 
90 
 
 LIGHT FEOM THE EAST. 
 
 tector and my friend, — and one, too, who is dearer to me than 
 life itself, — exposed to the various perils which now environ 
 you ? Abdallah, the savage minion of the unrelenting Pacha 
 of Damascus, is now occupied in hunting to desperation and 
 death the most noble families in J erusalem : but when the 
 new Molsallam shall have sacrificed the powerful and the 
 strong, will he not then pounce upon his weaker and more 
 defenceless prey, even upon thee and the trembling dove thou 
 hast cherished in thy bosom ? He will remember in his bitter- 
 ness the battle of Tiberias : and when he shall be informed 
 that Ishmael is a prisoner, no ransom will be deemed suffi- 
 ciently large for my redemption : and thus will the feuds in 
 which so much blood has been already causelessly expended, 
 be perpetuated to our children's children. Abdallah will 
 immediately demand of thee the captive confided to thy charge 
 with such severe injunctions; and thy lips of truth, what 
 answer can they give? Rather let us fly together : or if thou 
 wilt repose thy faith in my truth, I will go to my father, and 
 having assembled the people of his tribe, who unite the gentle- 
 ness of the gazelle with the boldness of the lion, I will send 
 thee a docile camel and faithful servant of my tent, who will 
 guide its steps to the entrance of the valley of Gaza, where I 
 and my father will await you, and shouts of joy shall be the 
 welcome of Miriam and Ebn Temym to the haunts of the tribe 
 of Wahydyah. On the last day of the month Sepher, shall 
 we expect you, and we will watch incessantly for your arrival 
 from the green heights of Eder." 
 
 u My father/' exclaimed the agitated Miriam, clasping the 
 knees of the Dragoman in an agony of supplication, " my dear 
 father, accept, I beseech thee, the offer of Ishmael, for it is 
 indeed inspired by heaven. As I prostrated myself yesterday 
 before the altar of the Virgin, I had a prophetic anticipation 
 
THE DIAMOND OF THE DESERT. 
 
 91 
 
 of all that he now proposes. Let us hasten our escape from 
 the cruelties that are now perpetrating in this devoted city. 
 The hand of the most high God will in time dissipate the 
 storm, and avenge the murder of his people. We can then 
 return. Meanwhile, let us, I conjure thee, journey into a land 
 of safety, where, if we find no one to sympathise with us in our 
 creed, we may at least be permitted to offer up oar prayers to 
 heaven without molestation." 
 
 Ebn Temym was struck with the force of this pathetic 
 appeal, and could not choose but yield to the solicitations of 
 his daughter. He accepted the proposal of Ishmael — the 
 plan of their route was finally decided upon, and every pre- 
 caution adopted to facilitate their escape, and ensure their 
 safety. The young Sheik bade them a hasty farewell, and 
 prepared to set out upon his expedition. " May your longing 
 for a view of the camp of Amhed," said he, as he kissed the 
 fair forehead of Miriam, u be as ardent as that of the desert- 
 worn traveller for the green Oasis of the wilderness." 
 
 But the skies of this heaven of hope were soon overclouded, 
 and a scene of horror and of blood obliged them speedily to 
 relinquish their delightful project. The disturbances through- 
 out the city were becoming every hour more and more 
 alarming ; so much so indeed that Ebn Temym would by no 
 means consent to the departure of his youthful guest. The 
 attempt at that moment would certainly have been attended 
 with the most imminent danger. He therefore induced him 
 to conceal himself in a subterranean retreat, with the laby- 
 rinths of which he alone was acquainted, in order to await a 
 more favourable opportunity for carrying his plans into effect. 
 Having conveyed Ishmael to this place of temporary refuge, 
 the good Dragoman rejoined his daughter with his accustomed 
 tranquillity ; but scarcely had he acquainted her with what he 
 
92 
 
 LIGHT FROM THE EAST. 
 
 had done, than the Spahis of the newly elected tyrant burst 
 into the room, and rudely seizing him, bound him hand and 
 foot before his daughter's eyes. They then plundered the 
 house of what little treasure the Dragoman had amassed, and 
 bore him away to the Molsallam, to whom he had been 
 denounced as a traitor by the perfidious Greeks. His daughter 
 saw him no more. 
 
 Miriam, in a state of mind little short of distraction, has- 
 tened to the Superior of the Convent of the Holy Sepulchre, 
 to implore his assistance in procuring her father's freedom. 
 She noticed, as she drew nearer, that its walls were closely be- 
 sieged by the murderous emissaries of the Molsallam, who 
 were imprecating the most dreadful curses on the unoffending 
 brotherhood. " My daughter/' said the venerable father to 
 Miriam, " our Saviour visits us with severe calamities, and 
 thou art at this moment suffering the most poignant of human 
 afflictions ; but what are thy sorrows in comparison with his, 
 who upon this very spot voluntarily, and for the redemption 
 of the immortal souls of Sinful men, drained to its last dregs 
 the bitterest cup that ever was prepared for mortal taste ! 
 Handmaid of that serenest of sufferers, who when writhing 
 under agony almost too powerful for the endurance of huma- 
 nity, exclaimed, ' not my will but thine be done/ — follower 
 of the living Lord, thy father is no more ! He has escaped 
 the fearful anxieties to which we must hourly be exposed, and 
 has reached that kingdom in which the spirits of just men 
 are made perfect." 
 
 The unhappy maiden, overwhelmed by the suddenness of 
 this dreadful catastrophe (for an hour had scarcely elapsed 
 since her father was alive and in her presence), fell senseless 
 on the floor. When she recovered from her swoon, she found 
 herself surrounded by Christian women, who, with tears in 
 
THE DIAMOND OF THE DESERT. 
 
 93 
 
 their eyes, were entreating the holy fathers not to deliver her 
 into the hands of the governor. The barbarian had heard of 
 her surpassing beauty, and considering her a prize worthy the 
 harem of his patron, the Pacha of Damascus, had issued his 
 commands that she should be brought before him. The 
 prayers and presents of the holy brotherhood had, however, 
 succeeded in obtaining for her a few hours' respite. They had 
 hoped to save her from the misery and degradation with which 
 she was threatened, by sending her to Bethlehem, but they 
 were informed the same evening, that that city was also aban- 
 doned to the fury of the Spahis, and that the convent of Jeru- 
 salem and the church of the Holy Sepulchre would be plun- 
 dered by these lawless bands in the course of the night. From 
 the first moment of the arrival of this dreadful intelligence the 
 greatest consternation prevailed, and every individual was oc- 
 cupied in preparing for a hasty flight to a place of safety. 
 Some of the women and children secreted themselves in the 
 subterranean recesses of the Holy City. The more courageous 
 among them, having first buried their precious reliques, their 
 sacred vases, in the sands of the grotto of Jeremiah, or in the 
 deep caves of Siloah, scaled the walls and fled. 
 
 Worn and dejected, without either counsel or an asylum, 
 Miriam sought the retreat of Ishmael, whom she found full of 
 anxiety and fears for her safety. His voice was tremulous 
 with rage : he vowed the deepest vengeance on the Molsallam 
 for the murder of Ebn Temym, and the tears of his bereaved 
 and unhappy daughter. " Let me employ the little energy 
 that is left me/' said Miriam, "in persuading thee to seek 
 thy safety in flight. I have confided everything to the supe- 
 rior of the convent. Yousef is one of the janissaries charged 
 with the defence of the holy fathers ; I have interested him in 
 thy behalf, and he will favour thy escape. He has consented 
 
94 
 
 LIGHT PKOM THE EAST. 
 
 to conceal himself in the ruins of Bethany, where the Arabs 
 of Siloah will provide him with a camel. Night is fast ap- 
 proaching, make for the valley of J ehoshaphat ; thou wilt find 
 thy guide, he will wait patiently for thee until the ninth hour. 
 God be with thee on thy perilous journey, and guide thy fugi- 
 tive steps in safety over the burning sands of the desert — less 
 fatal and terrible than the cruel machinations of evil men. 
 Farewell, dear Ishmael ; think sometimes of the martyred 
 Ebn Temym, and his hapless daughter — the orphan Miriam." 
 
 "Oh! Miriam," rejoined the young Sheik, "you will not 
 follow me, and yet you entreat me to fly ! how is this ? ** I 
 am a Christian, Ishmael," responded the desolate girl, " it is 
 not lawful for me to be thy bride ; but, if thou lovest me, 
 friend of my father, save thine own life, and be happy in the 
 Desert. Miriam can never cease to find protection near the 
 tomb of her blessed Redeemer." Then acquiring courage, she 
 continued in a voice rendered tremulous by grief — " the only 
 sorrow which I could not endure, would be that arising from 
 a wilful neglect of my duty ; or," pursued she with repressed 
 anguish, " of witnessing thy destruction. I have borne much, 
 I could bear anything but this." 
 
 " Holy Prophet," rejoined Ishmael, " she cannot suppose 
 that I will leave her ! Miriam," added he, with a mournful 
 voice, laying down his arms and mantle, " you have no right 
 to suspect the son of Ahmed of such base ingratitude and in- 
 sensibility ; you do but employ these words as the test of my 
 truth. And what is life without her I love ? I will stay : and 
 I swear by Mahomet himself, that no power shall force me 
 from your side." " Stay," said Miriam, " in despite of 
 death?" "I scorn it," rejoined Ishmael, "and here will I 
 remain to meet it." These last words, uttered in a tone of 
 deep emotion, were omnipotent : they decided the fate of 
 Miriam. 
 
THE DIAMOND OF THE DESERT. 
 
 95 
 
 u Oh, my God !" cried she, u the only father to whom I 
 can now appeal for either succour or advice, what must I then 
 do ? Must I suffer Ishmael to perish ? Were my dear father 
 but alive, a sacred duty would detain me here ; but an orphan 
 in this thorny world, isolated, and without one friend to pro- 
 tect me from insult and degradation worse even than death, 
 what course am I to follow ? I belong to no one, have no one 
 either to love or to regret me. A numerous family would 
 mourn for Ishmael, and can I then consent to his death ? Of 
 what importance is the fate of Miriam? He shall live, he may 
 even yet be happy. Ishmael, save thy life and mine : we will 
 abandon these awful scenes together. It shall be even as thou 
 wilt. Pardon us, Holy Virgin, if we have erred : or, at least, 
 if we are guilty, let thy vengeance descend upon my head 
 alone." 
 
 Not an instant was to be lost. Guided by the flames that 
 were consuming the hospital of the Armenians, Miriam and 
 Ishmael threaded with considerable difficulty the aloe hedges 
 that divide the gardens of the suburbs. With the opportune 
 aid of some fugitive Christians, whom they casually encoun- 
 tered in their flight, they passed the outer walls of the city. 
 Their situation became every moment more and more critical. 
 They could be both seen and heard, and the slightest noise 
 might have betrayed them into the hands of their enemies. 
 For the first time in his life, Ishmael experienced a sensation 
 of fear. They hurried on in silence : but Miriam, accustomed 
 to the sedentary life of eastern women, found her strength 
 beginning to fail her, and her companion was obliged to bear 
 her onward in his arms. The minarets of Bethany now burst 
 upon their sight, and Ishmael, gaining resolution from the re- 
 flection that he was at length master of the fate of his beloved, 
 hastened on to the ruins. Having reached them, he proceeded 
 
96 
 
 LIGHT FROM THE EAST. 
 
 to give the appointed signal, and profound was their conster- 
 nation at receiving no answer in return. The night, one of 
 unusual darkness, had now closed in upon them, and neither 
 guide nor camel was in attendance. In vain they repeated 
 the signal, and listened with beating hearts for the reply. All 
 was silent as the grave. They had greatly exceeded the ninth 
 hour, and the janissary had, in all probability, given up the 
 hope of seeing them, and returned to the city ; or it might be 
 for the purpose of betraying them into the hands of the re- 
 vengeful Molsallam. Various and painful were the conjectures 
 in which they successively indulged. 
 
 What was to be done ? How were they to traverse sixty 
 miles of a rough mountainous and desert track, without as- 
 sistance, and without provision, to find at the end of their 
 journey a wide expanse of moving sands, burning beneath the 
 scorching rays of a tropic sun, and treacherous and uncertain 
 to the tread. Everything, however, appears possible to love : 
 Ishmael easily convinced Miriam of the necessity of conti- 
 nuing their course : u I know," said he, " of a spring half way 
 between this and the part of the Desert inhabited by the tribe 
 of Wahydyah; we shall find date trees near the fountain, 
 whose fruits will yield us nourishment. I will sustain you in 
 my arms ; two days will suffice for the journey : if your 
 strength fails you we will rest, and you shall regain it on my 
 bosom." Pure and unsophisticated innocence invested them 
 with their panoply and tempered the warmth of their emotions, 
 awakening between them a full and perfect confidence in each 
 other, the tender and holy charm of earliest love. Miriam 
 willingly believed the asseverations of Ishmael. Anxious to 
 take advantage of the freshness of the night, that they might 
 prosecute their arduous journey with as little fatigue as possi- 
 ble, they hastened to quit the ruins of Bethany — vain hope ! 
 
THE DIAMOND OF THE DESERT. 97 
 
 the strength of the fair Christian was already exhausted, and 
 her tender feet were lacerated by the sharp stones that lay 
 imbedded amidst the sands over which she had passed. 
 Ishmael witnessed her forced exertions and her sufferings, and 
 his heart bled within him at the sight. He guided her steps, 
 and supported her in his arms, but still their progress was 
 ■comparatively slow. The rising sun now displayed to their 
 view the Desert over which they had to pass, an immense 
 plain of sand already red by the suit's earliest beams, and un- 
 shaded by a single tree. But this prospect, so far from dis- 
 couraging Ishmael, seemed only to animate him to fresh ex- 
 ertions. The Desert was to him a home and an emblem 
 of independence ; " O Miriam I" said he, " take courage ; 
 before sunset we shall reach the fountain of Engaddi, and to- 
 morrow we shall approach my father's tents/' Miriam, in- 
 spirated by these soothing words, endeavoured to conceal her 
 weariness, and continued to press forward leaning on the arm 
 of Ishmael. But the paleness of her countenance betrayed 
 that she was in the last stage of exhaustion. Ishmael again 
 took her in his arms. Towards the close of this fatiguing day 
 the newly recovered invalid himself began to droop ; his eyes 
 grew dim, and he could scarcely discern in the horizon the top 
 of the palm trees of Engaddi. It seemed impossible that they 
 should reach this resting place before dark, and Miriam, who 
 laid already a fainting burthen in his arms, and parched with 
 thirst, was scarcely able to articulate a word. The thought 
 that it was for his sake she had exposed herself to this inten- 
 sity of suffering, invigorated the sinking Arab : he pressed on, 
 rested, and again pursued his way. The fear of losing the object 
 of his idolatry stimulated him almost beyond his strength, and 
 still he struggled onward, pressing ever and anon his precious 
 burthen to his panting and agitated bosom. A few steps more 
 
 H 
 
98 
 
 LIGHT FROM THE EAST. 
 
 and they were by the side of the long- desired spring, at which 
 they had no sooner arrived than, utterly powerless and ex- 
 hausted, they both fell prostrate on the sands. 
 
 Ishmael dragged himself with some difficulty to the edge of 
 the fountain, and filling the palms of his hands with the pre- 
 cious liquid, moistened the parched and bleeding lips of Miriam. 
 She opened her languid eyes, and smiled her grateful thanks 
 through the tears with which they were filled. Anxious only 
 for Ishmael, she appeared indifferent to her own sufferings. 
 "Alas!" said she, faintly, "had it not been for me, thou 
 wouldst not have been reduced to this strengthless and debili- 
 tated condition thus making even her own sacrifice a sub- 
 ject of self-accusation. 
 
 They rested one entire night and day beneath the date- 
 trees at the fountain of Engaddi. As the evening advanced, 
 Ishmael stationed himself at the feet of Miriam, and watched 
 over her with intense and breathless anxiety — a solicitude as 
 deep and pure as that with which the young mother hangs 
 over the waning beauty of her first-born child. 
 
 IshmaePs energies were in a great measure renewed, whilst 
 the daughter of Ebn Temym awoke feverish and unrested • but 
 still anxious for the safety of her lover, she expressed the 
 utmost eagerness to depart, and they once more set out on 
 their journey, bearing with them dates and water for their 
 future refreshment. They had not proceeded far when they 
 met some Arab shepherds, who, sympathising with them in 
 their distress, provided them with more solid nourishment than 
 they had hitherto been able to obtain. It happened fortu- 
 nately for the wearied fugitives, that an old man of the party 
 was on terms of friendship with several of the tribe of Wahy- 
 dyah, and he, therefore, tendered Ishmael and Miriam his 
 services as a guide. They directed their course towards the 
 
DIAMOND OF THE DESERT. 
 
 " Ishmael stationed himself at the feet of Miriam, ud watched over her with intense and 
 breathless anxiety." 
 
MMtl 
 
 OF THE 
 
THE DIAMOND OF THE DESERT. 
 
 99 
 
 vale of Harma ; the shepherd assisted them to climb the 
 heights of Tabor, to cross the torrent of Soeta, and the deep 
 solitudes of Hebron. " My daughter," said he to Miriam, 
 H trust in Allah :" it was he who led you to us in the pastures 
 of Edom. He has deprived me of a beloved child, the prop 
 and support of my old age : you recal her to my memory : the 
 mourner is doubly dear to one who is, like me, so well ac- 
 quainted with grief — lean on me, damsel, frail reed that I am, 
 lean on me. I am old, it is true, but the Prophet hath given 
 me sufficient strength to succour thee in thy necessity : let us 
 then press forward on our way together." But, notwithstanding 
 the additional assistance she received, Miriam was gradually 
 growing more and more exhausted, and her eyes were over- 
 flowing with tears, when the keen and anxious sight of the 
 young Sheik discerned towards dusk a company of horsemen 
 on a distant height before them. The shepherd hastened 
 towards the party, and recognised them as Arabs. " Sons of 
 the Desert," exclaimed he, " are ye of the noble tribe of 
 Wahydyah, sovereigns of Bosor and Eblator ?" " Yes, yes," 
 exclaimed the Bedouins with one voice, u we are, we are !" 
 "Without waiting for reply the old man hurried back to Ishmael, 
 who, having confided to his care his precious charge, fled to 
 his friends. As soon as he had dispatched messengers to 
 apprise his father of his approach, and secured the accommo- 
 dation of which the sinking Miriam stood in such extreme 
 need, he as speedily returned. " Take courage, sweet sister of 
 my soul," said he, " the whole of my tribe await you ; I will 
 restore to you a father in Ahmed, the son of Bahir." 
 
 The fair Christian was soon supported by her lover upon a 
 sure-footed and gentle steed. She fainted several times before 
 they arrived at the plain of Anna, whither the ancient Sheik 
 and his family had repaired to meet them. Ishmael cried out 
 
 h 2 
 
100 
 
 LIGHT FROM THE EAST. 
 
 to him afar off, " Sheik of the Wahydyahs, oh ! , my father, 
 behold the angel that has preserved thy son ; kill the new- 
 born camel in her honour, and present to her the bread and 
 salt." He then recounted to Ahmed all the sufferings they had 
 undergone ; and tears bathed the venerable cheek of the son 
 of Bahir, as he listened to the sad recital. 
 
 Alas ! the seeds of death were already sown in the fragile 
 form of the gentle Miriam. The young listers of Ishmael 
 exerted themselves in vain to divert her. When they thought 
 her somewhat recovered, they conducted her to the well of 
 Laban, and, seated in the shade of its fig-tree, described to 
 her the anxieties they had felt during their brother's painful 
 absence, and related to her all that he had told them of the 
 benevolence of Ebn Temym. On their return to the women's 
 tent, their mother, who was anxiously expecting them, re- 
 ceived Miriam with open arms, addressed her as a daughter, 
 and tended her with more than maternal solicitude. She 
 despatched envoys to Gaza, for everything she considered 
 to minister either to her pleasure or restoration. " We are 
 poor and ignorant," said the sympathising matron, " but our 
 hearts expand to the influences of friendship, even as the po- 
 megranate to the rays of that sun from which it derives both 
 its colour and sweetness." 
 
 Miriam was sensibly affected by these proofs of the tender in- 
 terest with which she was regarded : she loved the young Sheik, 
 but her piety, her fears with regard to another life, so forcibly 
 impressed upon the mind of a Christian born at the sacred 
 foot of Calvary, all combined to agitate her soul with wild and 
 visionary apprehensions. She constantly fancied that she 
 heard the voice of her martyred father calling upon her name, 
 and in spite of the vigilant kindness of her Arab friends, was 
 gradually wasting away like the wounded palm-tree of the 
 
THE DIAMOND OF THE DESERT. 
 
 101 
 
 Desert, r cut by the Indian for its juicy balm/ Ishmael, with 
 anguish he could ill conceal, beheld the beloved of his soul 
 thus meekly descending into the valley of the shadow of death. 
 He wandered round her tent groaning in the agony of his 
 despair, like a young lion that has been smitten by the 
 poisoned arrow of the hunter. His father endeavoured to 
 soothe him under the pressure of his painful anticipations, 
 " Allah, is good," he would say, " he allows the dove to shelter 
 in my tent — to nestle in the bosom of my tribe. Regard it, 
 Ishmael, as a sign of happiness for the Wahydyahs, and let 
 the thought that we ministered comfort and healing to the 
 heart of the striken daughter of the martyred Ebn Temym, be 
 as the oil of peace on the troubled billows of thy soul." 
 
 The tender attentions lavished by this patriarchal family 
 upon their dying guest were ineffectual. One morning, after 
 a few moments of unusual cheerfulness, the head of Miriam 
 declined upon her bosom, like a drooping rose of Sharon, the 
 last sigh passed from her pale dissevered lips, and her 
 spirit mounted at once into its native heaven. All the 
 fibres that had sustained the perishing form of this fragile 
 flower were at length divided. The horrible death of her 
 father, her religious scruples, (they might almost be called 
 prejudices), and the passionate depth of her affection, all 
 united to blight a creature — once the very soul of beauty 
 and of promise. 
 
 The lamentations of the women of the tribe of Wahydyah 
 were loud and incessant : but Ishmael remained wrapped in a 
 shroud of impenetrable gloom. He could not weep, for the 
 fountain of his tears was dried up. The grief of his father was 
 deep, but it was calmer than that of his kindred. He super- 
 intended the funeral of the hapless Miriam. She was interred 
 in the sands under the majestic palm-trees, beneath which he 
 
102 
 
 LIGHT FROM THE EAST. 
 
 had so frequently reposed, without disturbing the emblem of 
 her faith, which the Christian virgin had never for one mo- 
 ment ceased to wear upon her breast. 
 
 The grief of Ishmael was profound. It was in vain that his 
 father offered him food— that he spoke to him of the interests 
 of his tribe, and of the wars with which it was threatened. He 
 could never obtain from him a single syllable in reply. But 
 the repose of this simple family was menaced soon after this 
 sad catastrophe, by the Aga of Gaza ; and a general retreat 
 to the Desert of Mephaath, beyond the Dead Sea, in the land 
 of the Moabites, was decided upon by the elders of the tribe. 
 They were ail occupied in preparing for their departure, when, 
 towards the close of the day before that on which they were to 
 have set out, the sun appeared surrounded by a crimson halo : 
 the skies, wild and overcast, yielded a lurid light : the birds flew 
 towards the west, skimming, in continual circles, along the 
 boundless plain : the heavens seemed luminous, while the air 
 was gloomy and opaque. The palm-tree let fall its flexible 
 branches to the earth, as if it too had partaken of the general 
 blight, and the plaintive cries of animals in the vast solitudes 
 around, announced, in language not to be misunderstood, the 
 approach of the merciless simoom, the pestilential wind, the 
 terror of the desert. 
 
 Ishmael smiled in the anticipation of this awful visitation. 
 He repaired to the grave of his beloved Miriam, removed the 
 sand that covered her beautiful form, pressed the relic that re- 
 posed upon her bosom to his heart, in token that he had for- 
 sworn the creed of his tribe and embraced that of the daughter 
 of EbnTemym : and then, removing the veil from her alabaster 
 face, gazed once more upon it with the pure and delighted con- 
 sciousness that he should soon be reunited to her for ever in 
 that blissful land, in which thirst, weariness, and blight, are 
 
THE DIAMOND OF THE DESERT. 
 
 103 
 
 equally unknown. The features of his beloved were still un- 
 wasted by decay. She seemed to smile upon her Ishmael, and 
 to rejoice that he had adopted the religious belief of her people. 
 u Come, my beloved/' she appeared to say, " thou art now 
 exclusively my own : leave thy vale of tears for those blissful 
 habitations which are prepared for the devoted followers of the 
 merciful and omnipotent God of Miriam and Ebn Temym." 
 " I obey thy call/' he replied, implanting a fervid kiss upon 
 her marble brow — " I come. Take, adored of my soul, the 
 chaste embrace of thy bridegroom of the tomb : the links that 
 bind me to earth will soon be broken, and we shall then, if I 
 am not deceived by the impulses newly stirring within me, be 
 reunited for ever. 
 
 His voice was the voice of a prophecy, too speedily to be ful- 
 filled. A dark red cloud rose in the east, the whirlwind made 
 a chaos of the tranquil desert, the date-trees were plucked up 
 by the roots, and sandy billows rolled over the plain. In this 
 fearful inundation the son of Ahmed disappeared : the surging 
 sand swept over him as he bent to kiss the forehead of his 
 Miriam. He sleeps the sleep of death with the daughter of 
 Ebn Temym. 
 
 " They were lovely and pleasant in their lives, in their deaths they 
 were not divided." 
 
 That part of Palestine which lies to the east of Jerusalem has always 
 been exposed to the attacks of bands of Arabs, who not only carry on 
 habitual incursions, but have regularly established themselves on the 
 line of the principal high roads, where they cause every traveller deeply 
 to rue his temerity if he proceed without the security of a strong armed 
 guard, or without having propitiated, by liberal gifts, some great chief 
 of the Desert. 
 
104 
 
 LIGHT FROM THE EAST. 
 
 The Dragomans are a class of learned men, versed in the Oriental 
 language, descended from old Genoese or Venetian settlers. They are 
 attached to the European embassies or consulates, as few Europeans un- 
 derstand the Turkish language. Their learning commands respect from 
 the Moslems ; and as some are possessed of a knowledge of the healing 
 art, they not unfrequently act as physicians. Hakim is synony- 
 mous with doctor. The Dragoman and his family are protected from all 
 operations of the Turkish law. 
 
 The fountain of Engaddi is a celebrated oasis in the Syrian desert, and 
 is eloquently described by Sir Walter Scott in the "Talisman": — 
 " They were now arrived at the knot of palm trees and the fountain, that 
 welled out from beneath their shade in sparkling profusion. This spot of 
 beauty, in the midst of a sterile desert, was a scene which, perhaps, else- 
 where would have deserved little notice ; but as a single speck in a bound- 
 less horizon, which promised the blessing of shade and living water> 
 these blessings, held cheap where they are common, rendered the foun- 
 tain and its neighbourhood a little paradise." 
 
vir. 
 
 adafc and Ualasrad*. 
 
 ADAK'S "Adventures in search of the Waters 
 of Oblivion" would have been the most fitting 
 title for this story, which is by the same 
 author and in the same volume as the " Talis- 
 man of Oromanes," and it has, from the time 
 of its appearance, always been highly esti- 
 mated. The lessons of patience and fortitude 
 that are engendered in the trials of Sadak, and 
 the constancy and truth of the fair Kalasrade, 
 have a most captivating effect on the minds of 
 youth. 
 
 For we ma}-, with the poet, ask — 
 
 "What is the mystery of human life ? 
 
 In rude or civilised society, 
 
 Alike a Pilgrim's Progress through the world 
 
 To that which is to come, by the same stages ; 
 
 With infinite diversity of fortune 
 
 To each distinct adventurer by the way ! 
 
 Sadak's rejection of the " Waters of Oblivion," and his acknowlegd- 
 ment that afflictions were meant as blessings to increase his faith, is 
 perfectly consistent with his religion, as patience under suffering is a 
 characteristic trait of the Moslems. 
 
 Affliction is the wholesome soil of virtue : 
 TVhere patience, honour, sweet humanity, 
 Calm fortitude, take root and strongly flourish. 
 
 The Amurath of the story will not correspond with the history of 
 either of the sultans bearing that name. Amurath I. was a great and 
 enlightened prince, severe but just ; he was a strict observer of the 
 religion of the Koran; he died of a wound received in battle, 1389, at 
 the age of seventy-one, after a reign of thirty years. 
 
SADAK AND KALASRADE. 
 
 The fame of Sadak lives yet in the plain of Erivan, where 
 he drew the bow of the mighty, and chased the enemies of his 
 faith over the frozen mountains of the north. When Amurath 
 gave peace to the earth, Sadak retired with his beloved Kalas- 
 rade to the palace of his ancestors, which was situated on the 
 banks of the Bosphorus, and commanded one of the most 
 beautiful prospects in the world. Sadak, though furious and 
 impetuous in the field, was elegant and amiable in his happy 
 retreat, where fancy and delicacy preserved their pre-eminence 
 over the richest productions of unrestrained nature. 
 
 The palace of Sadak stood upon a wide-extended terrace, 
 which overlooked the sea and the opposite shores of Europe ; a 
 deep and noble grove sheltered it behind, and on each side 
 hills and valleys diversified the rural scene. The gardens of 
 the palace, though wild and irregular, yet afforded the most 
 delightful retirement ; and Sadak found in its bosom pleasures 
 far superior to the splendid pageants of the Othman court. 
 To increase the bliss of this earthly paradise, his favourite fair 
 one had blest him with a numerous progeny ; and as Sadak and 
 Kalasrade sat under the shade of the lofty pines, their children 
 wantoned and sported on the plains before them. The spirit 
 of their father was in the lively contests of his sons; and ma- 
 ternal delicacy dimpled on the cheeks of the daughters of 
 Kalasrade. The happy pair saw their own virtues reflected 
 from their children : and Sadak, having already earned this 
 elegant retreat by the toils of war, was resolved to dedicate the 
 rest of his days to the improvement of his beauteous offspring. 
 
SADAK AND KALASRADE. 
 
 107 
 
 Kalasrade, though her charms were as yet undiminished by- 
 age, harboured not a wish in which her noble Sadak was un- 
 concerned; all her joy was centred in Sadak: her heart 
 rejoiced not but when Sadak appeared; and her soul, uneasy 
 at a moment's absence, panted after Sadak her lord. The 
 love of Sadak equalled the affections of his beloved : he gazed 
 every hour with new transports upon her charms ; none but 
 Kalasrade engaged his thoughts, none but Kalasrade shared 
 in his affections. Time, which impairs the impetuous sallies 
 of desire, increased the holy flame of their love ; and their re- 
 tirement grew more and more agreeable, as they more and 
 more experienced the purity of its joys. But Sadak indulged 
 not wholly on the sofa of pleasure : his sons required his pre- 
 sence with them in the chase; he led them forth to manly 
 sports, and trained them to the exercise of arms. His four 
 sons followed their father Sadak daily to the plains of Rezeb, 
 where they strove for mastery in the race, and pointed their 
 arrows at the distant mark. 
 
 w O my father !" said Codan, the eldest of his children, as 
 they were on the plain, where Sadak was drawing the bow-string 
 to his breast, u a black cloud arises from the grove, and flames 
 of fire burst through its sides \ n Sadak quickly turned his 
 eyes toward the wood, which sheltered his palace, and saw the 
 sparks and the flame ascending over the tops of the trees. " My 
 children/' said Sadak, with a firm countenance, " fear not ; 
 continue your sport on the plain till I return : I will leave four 
 slaves with you, the rest shall follow your father to this grove 
 of fire/' Though Sadak was unwilling to terrify his children., 
 he knew full well the misfortune which had befallen him. His 
 palace was in flames, and the doating husband hastened with 
 his slaves to the relief of his beloved Kalasrade and her daugh- 
 ters. Sadak first reached the burning palace. The slaves of 
 
108 
 
 LIGHT FftOM THE EAST. 
 
 the house, terrified at the fire, were flying into the woods. He 
 commanded them back, and asked if Kalasrade and her little 
 ones were safe. Seeing their consternation, he flew toward 
 the apartment of his beloved, which was situated in one of the 
 inner courts j and though the devouring flames endeavoured 
 to bar his passage, the firm Sadak pressed through the fire 
 into the apartments of Kalasrade. " Kalasrade I" said Sadak, 
 " my beloved Kalasrade ! where art thou?" Kalasrade answered 
 not. Sadak lifted up his voice still higher — " Kalasrade ! my 
 beloved Kalasrade ! where art thou ?" Kalasrade answered 
 not. Sadak, though terrified at not discovering his beloved, 
 yet searched every part of the harem, till he came to the apart- 
 ments of his three daughters, who, with their female slaves, 
 were fallen on the earth, every moment expecting to be de- 
 voured by the flames. — " Arise, my children, said Sadak, and 
 be comforted at the presence of your parent. But where is 
 your mother? "Where is my beloved Kalasrade?" — " Alas, 
 answered the children of Sadak, u we know not : some slaves 
 forced our dear parent from her apartments, as she was hasten* 
 ing to our relief." " Then," answered Sadak, " blessed be my 
 prophet, she is safe ! 33ut come, my daughters," continued 
 their father, " you must not delay your escape ; the fire makes 
 hasty strides upon us. Come, my children, to my arms, and 
 I will bear you through the flames : but first let us dip in the 
 bath, lest the fire seize on our garments." As they passed the 
 female baths, they dipped themselves in the basin ; and the 
 slaves followed their master's example. 
 
 Sadak, arriving at the entrance where the flames had reached, 
 resolutely took up his two eldest children, and carried them 
 through the flames ; then again returning, ' c I will either," said 
 he, rescue my youngest, or perish with her." His youngest 
 fainted with fear as soon as her father had left her, and Sadak 
 
SADAK AND KALASRADE. 
 
 109 
 
 found her stretched on the ground, with but little signs of life. 
 All the female slaves, following their master Sadak, had escaped 
 out of the harem, except one faithful creature, who rather re- 
 solved to die with her young mistress than leave her exposed 
 to the flames. Sadak snatched up his clear treasure in his 
 arms, and commanded the faithful slave to take hold of his 
 garment, and follow him through the flames. Happily the 
 wind had turned the fire toward a different part of the palace, 
 so that Sadak had less danger to encounter in the second effort 
 than in the first. The resolute Sadak, having rescued his 
 children, inquired of his slaves where they had conveyed his 
 dear Kalasrade ; but none could give answer to the question 
 of their lord. The slaves were now all gathered together in a 
 body ; but four of their number were missing, besides those 
 who continued with the son of Sadak on the plain. 
 
 As little more could be rescued from the flames, "Sadak left 
 only ten slaves about the palace to recover what they were 
 able : the rest he sent into different parts of the grove, and to 
 the villages around, to seek for their mistress Kalasrade and 
 her slaves : six he dismissed with his daughters to the plains 
 of Rezeb, commanding them, with their attendants, to join 
 his sons, and seek some shelter and refreshment in a neigh- 
 bouring village, and leaving orders for his beloved Kalasrade, 
 if she were found, to retire to her children. Sadak then went 
 through the most unfrequented paths, and into the loneliest 
 parts of the wood, to seek his beloved, calling upon her as he 
 passed along, and pronouncing the names of the slaves that 
 were missing. This he continued till night had thrown her 
 sable garments on the earth, and he had compassed his palace 
 every way around for several miles, when he resolved to tarn 
 again to his palace, and inquire of his slaves concerning his 
 beloved Kalasrade. He passed through the woods, guided by 
 
110 
 
 LIGHT FROM THE EAST. 
 
 the red glare of light which the clouds reflected from the fire 
 that had nigh consumed his dwelling, and entered the further 
 part of the terrace, whereon stood the few remains of his once 
 elegant building. The flames, insatiated with their former 
 cruelties, seemed to rekindle at his presence. His slaves came 
 weeping toward him, but could give no tidings of their amiable 
 mistress ; and Sadak, who in the morning had looked with 
 the utmost satisfaction on the lively scenes around him, now 
 saw the melancholy face of nature, enlightened with the dusky 
 gleams of his own unexpected ruin. 
 
 But yet the wreck of nature could not have disturbed Sadak 
 more* than the loss of his beloved : he doubted not but that 
 the fire was kindled by those slaves who had torn Kalasrade 
 from his arms ; and, though he felt within himself the deepest 
 affliction, his blood curdled with horror when he reflected on 
 the tenfold distresses which encompassed the pure and spotless 
 partner of his affections. "O Allah I" said the trembling Sadak, 
 u fortify my faith, and teach me, even in the horrors of this 
 night, to believe that mercy triumphs over evil, and that the 
 paths of destruction are controuled by thy all-seeing power ! 
 To me all is confusion, misery, and terror ! *But thou seest 
 through the dark abyss, and guidest the footsteps of the just 
 in the valleys of desolation ! Nevertheless, O thou Just One ! 
 forgive the sinking of my soul, and pour the virtuous balm of 
 hope into the wounded spirit of thine afflicted servant V The 
 bounteous Allah heard the voice of his servant, and the heart 
 of Sadak was fortified and strengthened with religious hope. 
 
 Having disposed of what effects his slaves had rescued from 
 the flames in a place of security, Sadak hastened to the village 
 where his children were assembled, and, disguising the severer 
 pangs he felt himself, endeavoured to assuage the grief of his 
 fond family for the loss of their mother. Several of Sadak's 
 
SADAK AND KALASEADE. 
 
 Ill 
 
 friends soon joined him in the village; and the relations of 
 his wife offered to take care of his children, while he went in 
 search of Kalasrade and his villainous slaves. Sadak, with 
 thankfulness, embraced the offer of Mepiki, the father of his 
 beloved ; and, having tenderly embraced his children, directed 
 his steps toward the sea-side, and crossed in one of his feluccas 
 to the city of Constantinople. 
 
 No sooner was Amurath seated on his throne in the divan, 
 than Sadak fell prostrate before him. — " My brave soldier," 
 said Amurath, " arise. The world, Sadak," continued theprince, 
 " talks largely concerning your happiness ; and those who envy 
 not the Othman crown, yet pant after the elegant and peace- 
 able retirements of the fortunate Sadak. Has Sadak then a 
 wish ungratified, that he comes thus an humble supplicant at a 
 monarch's feet ?" "The smiles of his prince," answered Sadak, 
 " are a soldier's joy : and in the sunshine of those smiles did 
 Sadak live an envied life, till one dark cloud interposed, and 
 blasted the ripe fruit of Sadak' s joy." " What means 
 my Sadak?" answered Amurath. " While I led my sons 
 to the plain," replied Sadak, "to teach them the duties 
 which they owed their prince, the flames seized my peaceful 
 dwelling; and ere I could return to the rescue of my 
 beloved Kalasrade, four slaves had dragged her away, and I 
 and my attendants have in vain been seeking her in the 
 woods and plains that surround my habitation : where- 
 fore, O Amurath ! I come a supplicant to thy throne 
 to ask redress of thee." " That," answered Amurath, " brave 
 soldier ! thou shalt have ; my hasnadar baski shall pay 
 thee twice the value of thine house ; thou shalt have twenty 
 of my slaves : and as to thy beloved, go where fancy leads 
 thee, and seek a new Kalasrade." The words of Amurath were 
 as thearrows of death in the heart of Sadak ; and he said, " let 
 the hand of justice overtake the robbers, and let the power of 
 
112 
 
 LIGHT FROM THE EAST. 
 
 my lord restore Kalasrade to my arms." u Kalasrade," an- 
 swered Amurath, « has, doubtless, been so long in your slaves' 
 possession, that she is ere this contented with her lot : instead of 
 being the slave of one, she is now the mistress of four. But 
 why should a weak female trouble the brave soldier's heart? 
 The chance of war gives them to our arms ; and, as they 
 change their lords, our females change their love." 
 
 As the blasted oak is torn by the thunderbolt, so was the 
 heart of Sadak rent by the words of Amurath : but he con- 
 cealed the storms that shook his breast, and, bowing to the 
 earth, departed from the divan. He applied himself that day 
 to inquire in the Bezestein and public market-places concern- 
 ing Kalasrade and his four slaves ; and, hearing no tidings of 
 them there, he went to the water-side, among the levents, or 
 watermen ; but none could give him the least account of the 
 fugitives. The sorrows of Sadak bore heavy on his heart, but 
 they did not prevent him from making a regular and strict 
 search on the opposite shores both of Europe and Asia. Seve- 
 ral months passed in a fruitless inquiry, without the least dis- 
 covery either of his slaves or the manner of their escape. 
 
 The gentle Kalasrade, in the meantime, suffered still severer 
 afflictions. On the morning in which she was torn from her 
 lord she was seated on a sofa, with her slaves around her, when 
 she heard from several quarters of the palace a cry of "Fire !" 
 and in an instant saw the blaze ascend in three different parts. 
 All was confusion and distress : Kalasrade forgot not her chil- 
 dren ; but was hastening to their apartment, when four slaves 
 broke in upon her, and forced her out of the palace. They 
 flew with their prize to one extremity of the terrace, where a 
 small galley, which was concealed by the trees which over- 
 shadowed the water, waited for her arrival. The distracted 
 Kalasrade was delivered to an old eunuch in the galley, who 
 
SADAK AND KALASRADE. 
 
 113 
 
 instantly threw a thick black veil over her head, and threatened 
 to cast her into the sea if she cried ont or resisted. The threats 
 of the eunuch were vain; Kalasrade feared no greater misfor- 
 tune than the loss of Sadak, and she filled the air with her 
 lamentations. The eunuch, finding his remonstrances unsuc- 
 cessful, shut up the windows of the galley, and urged the 
 rowers to hasten away with their prize. 
 
 Kalasrade, being enclosed in the galley, knew not to what 
 shore she was carried ; but ere long the vessel struck upon the 
 ground; and ten black eunuchs entering the galley, they 
 wrapped a covering of silk around her, and conveyed her away. 
 After some time they stopped, and uncovered the unfortunate 
 Kalasrade, to give her breath. The beauteous mourner looked 
 around her, and saw she was in a garden planted with cypress 
 trees. She fell at the feet of him who seemed to have the 
 command of his brethren, and besought him to have compas- 
 sion on the miseries of a distressed mother and an injured 
 wife. The eunuchs made no answer to the entreaties of Ka- 
 lasrade ; but he who commanded the rest made a sign for 
 them to fling the silken covering over Kalasrade, and to bear 
 her away. 
 
 It was not long before the slaves made a second halt, and 
 took off the silken covering again from Kalasrade, and retired. 
 The beauteous wife of Sadak lifted up her veil, as soon as she 
 perceived the slaves withdraw, and found she was in an obscure 
 room, the windows of which were guarded with iron bars. In 
 one corner of the room stood a pot of boiled rice, and beside 
 it a pitcher of water. Kalasrade hastened to the door, but 
 the slaves had made it fast without. Seeing all possibility of 
 escape taken from her, and not knowing where she was, the 
 wretched Kalasrade threw herself on the earth, and, with tears 
 and sighs intermixed, thus poured forth her griefs : " O whither 
 
 i 
 
114 
 
 LIGHT FROM THE EAST. 
 
 am I carried from the arms of my beloved ! Where was 
 Sadak, the light of mine eyes, when the hands of the oppressor 
 was on the bosom of his Kalasrade ! Where was the strength 
 of his arrn, and the fierceness of his countenance, when they 
 tore his Kalasrade from the nest of her little ones ! O faith- 
 ful Sadak, whither am I borne from the light of thine eyes ! 
 Whither am I carried from the smiles which refreshed my 
 heart ! Did we not, O Sadak ! divide the light and the dark- 
 ness together ! In the bosom of Sadak I hid me from the 
 storm 5 in the arms of Sadak his beloved triumphed. 
 
 " Ah, Sadak ! Sadak ! hear the voice of Kalasrade, ere the 
 vile ravisher come and despoil thee of thy treasure ! My love 
 for thee, O Sadak ! has been pure as the rain-drops ; and the 
 thoughts of Kalasrade have not wandered from her lord. In 
 the morning I joyed not at the sun, but as he gave to mine 
 eyes the image of my beloved. When Sadak arose, my heart 
 was poured out in a sigh : when he led his sons to the chase — 
 ah, wretched chase ! — my eyes went with him to the grove; 
 but my thoughts followed him to the plain. When he re- 
 turned, his presence was like the sprightly notes of music to 
 my soul : when he smiled, he was cheerful as the light of the 
 morning. When he spoke, his words were as the dews of 
 heaven on the fruitful bosom of the earth ; and his motion 
 was graceful as the waving of the palm-tree on the brow of 
 the mountain. Oh, who has divided my beloved from mine 
 arms ! Ah, Kalasrade ! thou art as the traveller among the 
 wolves of the forest ; thou art as a stranger bewildered in the 
 snowy plain !" 
 
 Kalasrade vented her sighs undisturbed for several days ; 
 no one appearing but an old female mute, who daily brought 
 her some boiled rice and a pitcher of water, which, though 
 but scanty, was more than sufficient for the beauteous wife of 
 
SADAK AND KALASRADE. 
 
 115 
 
 Sadak. During this interval it was impossible for Kalasrade 
 to guess at the meaning of her confinement, and, seeing no 
 one come to molest her, she began to bear her situation with 
 more temper ; though still, like the turtle, her moans after 
 Sadak were every moment indulged, and her fears for her 
 children renewed the horrors of her mind. At length one of 
 her own black slaves, who had assisted in forcing her way, 
 appeared. He was dressed in a green robe, and wore a yellow 
 turban on his head. As he entered the room, Kalasrade 
 retired as far as she was able ; but he, with a horrid grin, 
 advanced, and seized her by the arm. 
 
 The beauteous Kalasrade, finding herself in the power of 
 the black slave, shrieked aloud, and filled the room with her 
 cries ; but he, regardless of her tears or her entreaties, and in 
 a rough and determined tone, acquainted her with his love, 
 and that he intended to make her his mistress. At these 
 words Kalasrade redoubled her cries, and the slave proceeded 
 to press her in his arms ; when, in an instant, fifty eunuchs 
 rushed into the apartment ; and, seizing on the black slave, 
 delivered Kalasrade from his embraces. The wife of Sadak 
 was astonished at the new scene of wonders which she 
 beheld : but her heart soon returned to its former fears, when 
 she beheld the mighty Amureth approach. — "Let that slave," 
 said the monarch, " repay with his life the injuries he has done 
 to this perfection of beauty V 3 
 
 The distressed Kalasrade, hearing the command of Amurath^ 
 fell at the feet of her prince, and said — " Lord of thy slaves, 
 whom Allah has sent to the relief of the distressed, behold the 
 handmaid of thy servant Sadak before thee ! As Sadak, 
 mighty prince ! was teaching his sons to walk in the paths of 
 their father, four of his slaves, having set fire to his dwelling, 
 rushed into the harem, and bore me away to a galley ; in which 
 
 i 2 
 
116 
 
 LIGHT FKOM THE EAST. 
 
 throwing a blind over me, they conveyed me to this wretched 
 hut, where, till to-day, I have been indulged in my silent woes* 
 But a few moments ago this base slave entered, whom I sus- 
 pect to be the author of my misfortunes, and was about ta 
 compel me to bear his filthy love, when the guards of my lord 
 rushed in, and preserved me from his villainous malice : where- 
 fore, mighty lord ! permit thy slave to depart ; and, if it 
 please thee, gracious prince ! let a few of these my deliverers 
 convey me from this slave's house to Sadak, thy servant." As 
 Kalasracle uttered these words, Amurath made a sign to his 
 eunuchs to withdraw ; and taking the lovely Kalasrade by the 
 hand, he bid her arise. ''Beauteous Kalasrade V 3 said he, "I am 
 pleased at your artless tale, yet are you much deceived ; — you 
 are not in a slave's house, fair mistress of my heart ! but in 
 the garden of thy Amurath' s seraglio." At these w r ords the 
 countenance of Kalasrade changed, a deadly paleness over- 
 spread her cheeks, and she fell on the earth, as a flower cut 
 off from its root by the stormy wind. Although Amurath 
 called in immediate assistance, it was long before they could 
 restore motion and life to the miserable Kalasrade, w T ho, as 
 soon as she beheld the countenance of Amurath, again sunk 
 to the earth. 
 
 After some time, when the distressed Kalasrade was a little 
 recovered, Amurath thus began : "It is beneath the lord of the 
 earth to disguise his thoughts, or to wear a countenance which 
 accords not with his heart, No, my lovely Kalasrade ! 
 hypocrisy is a slave's portion ; — the sun knows no shadow, 
 and Asia's monarch knows no restriction. Wherefore, Kalas- 
 rade, shall not any longer feel the tortures of a doubt, or the 
 shackles of fear. Know, then, lovely fair-one, that I was 
 jealous of my slave Sadak, who boasted joys superior to those 
 which attend his prince, and I issued forth the law of my 
 
SADAK AND KALASRADE. 
 
 ill 
 
 mind — that he should be cut off for his presumption. While 
 the janissaries were making ready to obey my commands, I 
 considered that death alone was not a sufficient recompense 
 for his folly ; and therefore I determined to add suspense to 
 the tortures which the rebel had merited at my hands. 
 ~Fov this purpose, I gave orders to the chief of my eunuchs 
 to corrupt some of his slaves, who were to fire his dwelling in 
 different parts, and to bring away his Kalasrade to my seraglio. 
 ^Not that I intended, beauteous fair-on?e, to exalt thee to my 
 notice — no, the wife of Sadak was a personage too low for 
 Amurath to stoop to — but having heard that you also gloried 
 in your Sadak, I resolved that you should live, confined in an 
 ignominious hut, on the coarsest food for some days ; which 
 being executed, I commanded one of your slaves to go in unto 
 you, and make you subservient to his will. But my anger 
 was so hot against you, that this was not sufficient revenge, 
 unless I were an eye-witness of your distress. For this pur- 
 pose a secret stand was contrived for me behind this hut, 
 where I could, unobserved, behold all that passed. Hither I 
 came with the slave, just in time to see him enter before 
 you. But, O lovely Kalasrade ! what was my emotion when 
 I beheld the charms which I was about to sacrifice to my 
 revenge ! The moment I saw your irresistible beauties, I 
 vowed the vile slave should die, who even in thought had at- 
 tempted to profane your charms. I made a sign for my 
 eunuchs to rush in and seize him ; and ere this his accursed 
 blood is poured on the earth, as an atonement for his inso- 
 lence. But this is not all that Amurath will do for the 
 mistress of his heart ; and the happy Kalasrade may rejoice 
 that the presumption of Sadak was not unnoticed by his lord. 
 Your short troubles, O Kalasrade ! have been productive of 
 the greatest joy your sex can feel ; for know that you have 
 
118 
 
 LIGHT FKOM THE EAST. 
 
 engaged the affection of the mighty Amurath ; and he, who 
 will not depart from the words of his lips, doth here call Ma- 
 homet to witness, that Amurath will make his beloved 
 Kalasrade the sultana of his heart." 
 
 The tender Kalasrade was overcome with the words of 
 Amurath, and she sunk into the arms of the chief of the 
 eunuchs, who stood behind her. " Doubor," said Amurath, " I 
 perceive Kalasrade's joy has overpowered her. While she is 
 in the trance of happiness, too great for her mortal nature to 
 live under, let her be conveyed to the richest apartments of 
 the seraglio, where the favourites of our race enjoy the con- 
 verse of their lords ; and let all homage be paid to her who is 
 destined to share in the pleasures of Amurath." While 
 Doubor and the rest of the eunuchs waited to perform the 
 will of their prince, Amurath returned to the seraglio, and 
 entered the baths 5 and afterwards arrayed himself in his most 
 sumptuous robes. He then sent to inquire of the chief of his 
 eunuchs whether Kalasrade was recovered. The chief of the 
 eunuchs came with the countenance of sorrow. " What !" said 
 Amurath trembling, as he saw the posture of his slave, " is not 
 the beauteous Kalasrade arisen from the slumber of transport?" 
 "Lord of life !" answered Doubor, "we have used every secret 
 of physic in vain ; our beauteous mistress still slumbers on 
 the sofa whereon we conveyed her." — "If so," replied Amurath, 
 " let us hasten to the adjoining apartment, where I may behold, 
 unseen, the joy which will awaken in her breast as her eye-lids 
 unfold to her the splendours that surround her." 
 
 After Amurath had been some time stationed in his secret 
 stand, the lovely Kalasrade opened her eyes, and beheld the 
 magnificent apartment into which she had been conveyed. 
 The beauteous wife of Sadak, seeing the mutes standing on 
 each side of her, the fair female slaves fallen prostrate in two 
 
SADAK AND KALASRADE. 
 
 119 
 
 rows before the steps of the sofa, and the eunuchs, with folded 
 arms and downcast eyes at a distance, shrieked aloud ; and 
 clapping her hands together in wild despair, cried out, t€ O 
 Sadak ! Sadak ! save me from this pompous horror \" She 
 then, in frantic haste, tore off the magnificent bracelets of 
 diamonds which, during her fainting, had been fastened to her 
 arms, and the rich girdle of rubies which adorned her waist* 
 the pearls and emeralds which were hung upon her bosom ; 
 and, looking on herself, " If I have anything," said she, u that 
 may tempt the lawless to injure Sadak's love, thus will I 
 sacrifice it to our mutual truth !" 
 
 As she spoke these words she fastened her delicate hands on 
 her cheeks ; and before the eunuchs, who instantly ran toward her 
 to prevent her intentions, could seize her, she had marked her 
 features with streams of blood. The disappointed Amurath 
 could no longer contain himself; but he entered the apartment 
 just as the blood was starting from the lovely cheeks of the 
 wife of Sadak. u Slaves," said he, " your lives shall answer 
 this neglect ! your base folly has robbed me of all my joys. 
 Behold ! my Kalasrade is defiled with blood, and Amurath 
 must abstain from her embrace ! But, if these deserve death, 
 what torture should await the wretched and foolish Kalasrade^ 
 who presumes to value the caresses of a slave, when the 
 mighty Amurath hath received her into the seraglio of his 
 pleasures ? " " Alas, mighty prince !" said the distracted 
 Kalasrade, falling at his feet, " who can absolve the plighted 
 
 vow? or " " Polluted slave ! " said Amurath, starting 
 
 from her, " defile not my garments with thy touch, nor mine 
 ears with thy rebellion ! For three days shall I leave thee, 
 till thou art washed from the stains of this frantic deed ; at 
 the end of which time, either prepare to receive my caresses, 
 or expect to see the head of Sadak blackening in the sun 
 
120 
 
 LIGHT FKOM THE EAST. 
 
 before the windows of the seraglio." At these words the in- 
 censed Ainurath left the fair Kalasrade weeping on the 
 ground, and retired to a different part of the palace. But 
 he gave orders that the chief of his eunuchs should, attend 
 her, to see that she was purified from the stain of her blood. 
 The disconsolate fair one gave herself up to perpetual grief, 
 and refused to taste the delicacies that were set before her, 
 although Doubor on his knees besought her to consider the 
 dreadful consequences of ^offending his lord. To these re- 
 monstrances Kalasrade answered little ; her mind was full of 
 the mighty ills which she suffered, and she could conceive 
 nothing more dreadful than the embraces of Amurath. 
 
 As she sat the second day on her sofa, musing on her dear 
 absent Sadak, she perceived a small bird perch on one of the 
 windows which looked toward the gardens of the seraglio ! 
 which, hopping from thence to her hand, opened its little 
 throat, and began its artless lay. As the bird left off sing- 
 ing, Kalasrade, though she was astonished at its tameness, 
 yet began to stroke it, and said, " Thou, pretty chorister ! 
 art mistress of the air, and Heaven hath adorned thee with 
 the wings of liberty ; thou buildest thy nest beyond the trace 
 of human malice, and soarest abroad where no Amurath can 
 impede thy flight." 
 
 The moans of Kalasrade were interrupted by a small voice 
 which, at first the beauteous wife of Sadak could scarcely 
 believe was uttered by the little bird; till, listening with 
 attention to it, she destinguished the following words : — 
 
 " Start not, lovely mistress of Sadak' s wishes ! at the voice 
 of a bird. The most trifling causes can, in the hands of 
 strength, produce the greatest effects — as the instructions of 
 Allah were conveyed to the holy prophet of Mecca by the 
 whispers of a dove. My station appears envious to Kalasrade, 
 
SADAK AND KALASRADE. 
 
 121 
 
 because she conceives me the offspring of liberty. Her fancy 
 represents me on the wings of pleasure and enlargement : 
 she sees me soaring in Heaven's broad path, but forgets my 
 toils in the grove and my labours in the field. If the light 
 feather, which bears me on the thin surface of the air, makes 
 me man's superior in flight, yet the artifice of human inven- 
 tions again subjects my weaker understanding a prey to con- 
 trivance : but it is enough for me, Kalasrade, to know that I 
 am the creature of Allah, who has, in wisdom, appointed to 
 everything living its proper station and bounds. 
 
 " At present, indeed, I seem to have transgressed those 
 bounds ; but it is in obedience to my mistress Adiram, who 
 presides over the faithful family of Sadak : it is she who speaks 
 in me, and who means to speak comfort to the heart-broken 
 Kalasrade : she it is that saith, — O beauteous mourner, aud 
 slave of the oppressor, fear not misfortunes, which are the tests 
 of virtue, and not the rotten fruit of infirmity. The malicious 
 shall not always triumph ! the staff whereon the wicked lean 
 shall rot and decay. When clouds hover above the fields, the 
 drops of fatness descend ; when the storm passeth over the 
 city, the days of health are at hand. It is the glory of the 
 faithful to bear afflictions with patience, and to oppose the 
 temptations of evil with fortitude and firmness/' As the bird 
 was continuing to speak the lessons of its mistress Adiram, 
 the chief of the eunuchs entered the apartment, and the little 
 chorister flew swiftly away through the window, among the 
 trees in the garden of the seraglio. 
 
 Doubor, as he entered, approached to the sofa of Kalasrade, 
 and fell prostrate before her. " Lovely Kalasrade !" said the 
 trembling eunuch, " it is to the intercession of Elar, the father 
 of thy lord, that Doubor owes the spirit which enlivens him. 
 When Elar, the father of Sadak, fought by the side of Maho- 
 
122 
 
 LIGHT FROM THE EAST. 
 
 met, Iris lord, on the confines of Sclavonia, and the inhabitants 
 of Z a grab fled before him, my widowed mother with her family- 
 were among the number of the fugitives ; but, as she held a 
 daughter in each hand, and was laden with me, an infant, on 
 her back, she was soon unable to keep up with her brethren, 
 whose concern was so urgent for themselves, that they 
 refused to bear any part of her burthen. My mother Idan, 
 finding it in vain to fly with her children, and resolving 
 not to leave them behind her to the merciless fury of her ene- 
 mies, sat down by the road-side ; and, while I hung on the 
 breast, embraced, with the utmost tenderness, her two daugh- 
 ters. While she was thus mournfully employed, the outskirts 
 of Mahomet's army appeared. Two janissaries first reached 
 the miserable widow : they examined her features, but age had 
 spread the veil of safety on her cheeks. The daughters of the 
 wretched widow next excited their attention : the countenance 
 of Liberak, the eldest, bedewed with tears, appeared like the 
 melting snow, and the bloom of Hirab, the second, shone 
 through the pearly drops that hung upon her face, as the rose- 
 bud laden with the dew of night. " Be this my prey \" said the 
 first janissary, and seized on the elegant Liberak. " And this be 
 mine !" said his ferocious comrade, fastening on the blush- 
 covered Hirab. 
 
 Idan, my mother, awakening from her trance of sorrows by 
 the rude onset of the two janissaries, called aloud on her Chris- 
 tian gods for relief, and held each daughter firmly by the hand, 
 while the janissaries endeavoured to loosen her hold ; which the 
 first, not effecting so easily as he hoped, drew his scymitar, and 
 severed her hand and her daughter from the miserable Idan. 
 His comrade, observing the brutal success of his fellow-soldier, 
 drew his scymitar likewise, and was about to gain his prize by 
 the same kind of cruelty, when Elar, the captain of the band, 
 
SADAK AND KALASRADE. 
 
 123 
 
 rode up, and seeing the accursed design of the janissary, with 
 his uplifted scymitar hewed him to the ground. The first 
 janissary, seeing the fate of his comrade, fled; and Elar gave 
 orders that Idan and her children should be preserved : he set 
 a guard over her, and sent, with several slaves, one experienced 
 in the knowledge of physic to bind up her wound. But the 
 kind efforts of Elar were vain : my mother fainted with the 
 loss of blood ; and, before proper assistance could be procured, 
 expired in the arms of her helpless daughters. 
 
 Liberak and Hirab, the children of Idan, fell on the face of 
 their mother, and ceased not to mourn over their unhappy 
 parent ; neither could the attendants which Elar had provided 
 prevail on them to receive the least refreshment. They con- 
 tinued, during the pursuit of the Turks after the Sclavonians, 
 which lasted three days, immoveable on the body of their 
 dead mother Idan, while I was nourished by one of the slaves 
 of Elar. Sorrow and fatigue soon put an end to the lives of 
 Liberak and Hirab, the duteous daughters of the deceased 
 Idan ! and I was left an helpless infant in the arms of the 
 slaves of Elar, who, after the return of the army from pur- 
 suing their enemies, presented me to Elar, with an account 
 of the death of my mother and my sisters. Elar, perceiving 
 a liveliness in my looks ; sent the slave with me to Mahomet, 
 who gave orders that I should be admitted into his seraglio ; 
 and on ^ of the first things I learnt there was this history, 
 from the mouth of a slave who was appointed to be my nurse ; 
 wherefore be not surprised, O beauteous Kalasrade ! at my 
 affection for Sadak, the son of my lord Elar, by whose gener- 
 ous intercession I became a servant of Mahomet, and was 
 afterwards, by the favour of the mighty Amurath, exalted to 
 this post of confidence and honour. But, alas ! how will my 
 desire to serve Sadak be believed, when it is known that I, by 
 
124 
 
 LIGHT EKOM THE EAST. 
 
 the command of Amurath, corrupted his slaves, and assisted 
 them in bringing the wife of my lord into this seraglio ! in 
 deed, faithful Kalasrade ! my ignorance must plead my 
 excuse : bred up in this palace, I knew no law but the will of 
 my master ; and I believed that every female would esteem 
 it her greatest happiness to enjoy the smiles of the mighty 
 Amurath. But the despair of Sadat* s beauteous wife, her 
 constancy, and her contempt of every grandeur when the 
 price of unfaithfulness, have convinced me how much more I 
 have distressed the noble Sadak, and to what a precipice I 
 have dragged the much-injured Kalasrade : — and yet what 
 liad my refusal to obey Amurath benefited your cause ? Death 
 had been my instant reward, and some more savage heart had 
 been procured to direct the bloody resolves of Amurath 
 against you. Yet I plead not my own excuse ; but mean, ere 
 it be too late, to serve the much-injured wife of Sadak, the 
 son of my patron Elar." 
 
 " If you mean to serve me, Doubor," said the lovely Kalas- 
 rade — u though much I suspect the integrity of your tale — lead 
 me this instant out of the seraglio, and waft me over to the 
 dwelling of Sadak my lord." — " What !" answered Doubor, " is 
 Kalasrade such a stranger to the watchful keepers of this ser- 
 aglio, that she supposes it possible for any one to escape 
 unobserved through the various guards which surround it ? 
 Know you not, beloved of Sadak ! that numberless mutes and 
 eunuchs watch it night and day within, and without are sta- 
 tioned a thousand janissaries both by water and by land ? No, 
 fair captive ! there is no escape from these walls unless Amu- 
 rath consent." — "Is this, base Doubor !" answered Kalasrade, 
 " your promised comfort, that you officiously come to certify 
 me of my ruin ? Thou art, indeed a Christian renegade, and 
 no Turk ; for thou delightest to torment those whom thou 
 
SADAK AND KALASRADE. 
 
 125 
 
 canst not save. O Sadak ! Sadak ! was it for this thy father 
 Elar preserved this Christian's blood, that he should be the 
 chief engine of Amurath' s malice against thee ! Such tales a& 
 these are fitting to drive pity from a warrior's breast, and to 
 justify the slaughter of those who spare neither sex nor 
 age !" — " It were hard/' answered Doubor, the chief of the 
 eunuchs, " to condemn the fierce courser, because he cannot fly 
 without the assistance of the earth whereon he bounds, or to 
 extirpate the olive-tree, because it bears not the luscious 
 clusters of the vine. Although Doubor is unable to release 
 the fair Kalasrade, yet he may find some expedient to drive 
 off the completion of Amurath's designs." 
 
 " Ah, faithful Doubor !" said Kalasrade, convinced of her in- 
 judicious hastiness ; " forgive the wild sallies of a distempered 
 mind ; I am satisfied of your kind intentions, and I wait with 
 impatience to hear your instruction and advice. — cc The great 
 foible of Amurath," replied the chief of the eunuchs, " is pride ; 
 and even his love is subservient to the haughtiness of his 
 soul." — "If so," answered Kalasrade, "interrupting him, " I 
 will tempt his utmost anger, and merit his contempt; I 
 will sting his proud heart with taunts and revilings, and force 
 him to cast me forth to public scorn." — " Alas !" answered 
 Doubor, " you know not, beauteous Kalasrade ! the fury of 
 Amurath : such behaviour would irritate him to invent new 
 torments for Sadak, through whom he knows the heart of 
 Kalasrade is soonest wounded : no, my lovely mistress ! you 
 must use other arts, if you mean to preserve yourself un- 
 hurt in this impregnable seraglio. "While Amurath thinks 
 you love Sadak, no concession of yours will please him : he 
 may, indeed, for a few hours, take a pleasure in your smiles ; 
 but his jealous heart will soon awake, and his rage against 
 the unfortunate Sadak will rekindle." " O, Doubor !" said 
 
126 
 
 LIGHT FROM THE EAST. 
 
 Kalasrade, " where will our mean advice end !" — ""Fear not, 
 constant Kalasrade !" answered the chief of the eunuchs ; "I 
 seek to deliver you even from the horrors of your own im- 
 agination. In the wide ocean is a large island, surrounded 
 by inaccessible rocks and deceitful quicksands ; in the centre 
 of which, from a rising ground, runs a small spring, whose 
 waters are of such a nature, that whoever drinks of them 
 immediately forgets whatever has passed before in his life : 
 but these waters are beset with such insurmountable difficul- 
 ties, that no one hath ever been able to draw of that stream, 
 though thousands have perished in the undertaking. When 
 Amurath, then, next enters, lovely Kalasrade ! into these 
 apartments, appear submissive and humble before him : and 
 when he presses you to accept of his love, promise to yield 
 to hisd esires on one condition— that he procures for you the 
 waters of oblivion, that you may forget all your former con- 
 verse with Sadak, and be made fit to receive the conqueror of 
 the earth." 
 
 "Ah ! Doubor ! Doubor !" answered Kalasrade, " how can 
 I prevail upon myself, even in deceit, to speak so disrespect- 
 fully of Sadak, the beloved of my soul? O Sadak ! may I 
 be indeed the tyrant's mistress, when my base heart forgets its 
 lord !" " Consider, faithful consort of Sadak," answered Dou- 
 bor, V what otherwise may be your doom : better it is to speak 
 in terms of disgrace of Sadak than to disgrace his love, by suf- 
 fering the wild effects of Amurath' s desires." " O, Doubor," 
 said Kalasrade, " I had much rather submit to every lesser ill, 
 than have my heart-strings broken by his hated embrace." 
 " I had not dared to have staid thus long at the feet of Kalas- 
 rade," answered Doubor, " unless Amurath had sent me to 
 soften your heart. I will now return, and prepare him to be 
 received by the request of his sultana." " Ah, Doubor," said 
 
SADAR and kalaseade. 
 
 127 
 
 Kalasrade, * if you mean to serve me ; never again let me hear 
 that detested name : sultana, to me, is a worse sound than po- 
 verty and contempt can frame. " The chief of the eunuchs 
 bowed to the earth, and withdrew from the presence of Kalas- 
 rade. "The tale of Doubor," said Kalasrade to herself, as the 
 chief of the eunuchs, left the room, "may be only a fertile in- 
 vention to amuse and soften the rigorous sorrows of my heart, 
 but as they cannot change my fixed resolves, I will act as 
 though I believed them. If there is truth in his words, his 
 device may at worst put off for a time the misfortunes I have 
 too much reason to dread." 
 
 The mind of Kalasrade was so greatly eased by the instruc- 
 tions of the bird of Adiram, and the devices of Doubor, the 
 chief of the eunuchs, that on the third day she suffered the 
 slaves to adorn her, and partook of the delicacies which were 
 set before her. In the evening, the slaves of the seraglio 
 warned Kalasrade of Amurath's approach, and as he entered, 
 the beauteous wife of Sadak fell with her face to the earth. 
 " Kalasrade," said Anxurath, " let me know, ere you rise from 
 the earth to the blissful paradise of these arms, whether you 
 have well weighed the difference between a slave's love and a 
 monarch's favour, or is it necessary to compel you tobe happy?" 
 u Light of the faithful, and lord of the earth !" answered the 
 prostrate Kalasrade, " the preference you have shewn an 
 object unworthy of your notice, can never be sufficiently ac- 
 knowledged by your slave. But, O, my lord ! mention not 
 the mighty honours you mean to heap upon me, lest my 
 dazzled fancy totter with the towering thought, and my over- 
 charged reflection sink into the long slumbers of eternal night." 
 — u Blessed and unexpected change ! said the transported 
 Amurath, " raising up the trembling Kalasrade in haste, what 
 were those sweet words that I suffered to fall so soon to the 
 
128 
 
 LIGHT FROM THE EAST. 
 
 earth — words valuable as the wide empire that I hold ! Repeat 
 them, beauteous Kalasrade, ten thousand thousand times in 
 mine ears, and ask your own reward for the sweet labour I 
 have imposed upon you." 
 
 " Alas ! alas !" continued Kalasrade, " what has my weak 
 heart uttered in the ears of my prince ! Can the mighty 
 Amurath stoop to raise a peasant's daughter? Shall the 
 age-stricken wife of Sadak — shall the mother of a numerous 
 family — shall the mean inhabitant of a cottage on the banks 
 of the Bosphorus, become the favourite of Amurath, and the 
 Sultana of the Othman court? No, Kalasrade, foolish Ka- 
 lasrade ! Amurath laughs at thy folly, and has raised thee to 
 this height to make thy fall more terrible. As the humble 
 tortoise is lifted up and borne on the pinions of the eagle, 
 till his giddy sight swims at the wide prospect round him, 
 and then hurled suddenly downward to the pointed rock, so 
 shall Kalasrade be raised by the mock pageants of power, till 
 it please those who delight in her miseries to cast her forth 
 to infamy and scorn." " By the sacred blood of that prophet 
 which animates me, I swear, O Kalasrade, I mean to fulfil the 
 words I have spoken, and thou alone shall be the sultana of my 
 heart." "But will the mighty Amurath consent to one request 
 of his slave ; will he bear with his Kalasrade in one petition, 
 in which her happiness is concerned ?" " Ah, Kalasrade," 
 said Amurath, starting, t€ beware of all past reflections ; for if 
 the hated Sadak be the subject of thy request, thou shalt in- 
 deed be cast to infamy and scorn." 
 
 " The name of him who has deserved Amurath's hatred," 
 replied Kalasrade, u be far from the tongue of Kalasrade. O 
 gracious prince ! dismiss such ungenerous suspicions from your 
 mind. But that, alas ! is vain to hope, and I must still be 
 wretched. No, mighty Amurath ! expect no happiness with 
 
SADAK AND RALASKADE. 
 
 129 
 
 her who must ever disturb the joys with the mean thoughts 
 of what she once has been. How shall I meet my prince 
 with the noble ardour he requires, when my poor mind shall 
 be weighed down with the remembrance of my former 
 ■meanness?" " Ten thousand pleasures," replied Amurath, 
 a shall hourly surround you ; the sun and moon shall alike be 
 witnesses of our eternal festivals; the dance, the song, the 
 sprightly music, the masque, the feast, the public show, the 
 priv ate transport, shall all succeed in quick rotation, and drive 
 from your pleased fancy every former thought. Each wish of 
 your heart shall be so quickly gratified, your fertile mind shall 
 toil to recollect its wants." 
 
 ' iC Prince of my life !" answered Kalasrade, " though 1 must 
 ■not doubt your power, nor your desire to please, yet will the 
 mind, stretched out by the long scenes of pleasure, oft recoil 
 upon its former self, and the sense of my unworthiness em- 
 bitter the undeserved joys my prince shall fondly heap upon 
 me." — u To prove my sincerity, and to show you how soon I 
 mean to gratify every thought Kalasrade forms," said Amu- 
 rath, " let me hear the request of your lips ; but see it glance 
 not upon Sadak's love." — <c Gracious Amurath !" said Kalas- 
 rade, " forgive a slave's presumption, and I will speak." — 
 u Speak the whole wishes of your heart," replied Amurath ; 
 <( and if they are subservient to our love, though my empire 
 w r ere the price, I would purchase fair Kalasrade' s peace." 
 
 " There is, my lord," said Kalasrade, ec as I have heard, a 
 spring, whose waters are of such a nature, that whoever drinks 
 of them immediately forgets whatever has passed before in his 
 life. Let my lord then swear unto his slave, that, ere he takes 
 her to his arms, he will procure her a draught of that pleasant 
 stream ; and then Kalasrade shall be the slave of Amurath. 
 
 K 
 
 • 
 
130 
 
 LIGHT FROM THE EAST. 
 
 " Rather," said Amurath, " the mistress of my heart. Yes, 
 lovely Kalasrade ! I will swear by Mahomet, our holy prophet, 
 not to present myself to you till I have procured you a taste 
 of that stream, provided you can find any one within two days 
 who can describe to me the place where it rises." 
 
 Kalasrade then fell at the feet of Amurath, and said, " thou 
 hast made the heart of thy slave to rejoice ; thou hast not 
 only lifted her from obscurity, but thou hast renewed the 
 streams of her life ; that, having lost all memory of the past,, 
 she may seek to please her lord, without diffidence at the mean 
 thoughts of her former state." 
 
 At these words Amurath left the fair Kalasrade, and 
 hastened to call unto him the sage Balobor, who was ac- 
 quainted with every natural production of the earth. 
 " Balobor," said Amurath, " can you describe to me the 
 place where that spring may be found, whose waters 
 are of such a nature that whoever drinks them immediately 
 forgets whatever has passed before in his life ?" " If the 
 mighty Amurath," answered the sage Balobor, "will permit 
 me to return to my books, I will, ere the morning's sun, dis- 
 cover to my prince, if the earth produces such a spring, where 
 it may be found." 
 
 The next morning, the sage Balobor appeared in the pre- 
 sence of Amurath, and said, "the Waters of Oblivion, O mighty 
 Amurath, are preserved by a watchful race of genii, in a wide- 
 extended island in the southern parts of the Pacific Ocean. 
 The island itself is fortified by inaccessible precipices, and be- 
 set with pointed rocks, and around it are spread insidious 
 quicksands, to prevent the approach of any vessel, and which 
 sink with the weight of those who attempt to venture upon 
 them. What clangers surround the spring, which is situated 
 in the centre of the island, none can tell ; for, although thou- 
 
SADAK AND KALASRADE. 
 
 131 
 
 sands have attempted to seek after it, none have ever succeeded, 
 but destruction has overwhelmed them in the very entrance of 
 their toils." 
 
 At the words of the sage Balobor the countenance of Amu- 
 rath was overcast with frowns, and the tempest which raged in 
 his breast strove for utterance in his face ; but the disappointed 
 monarch endeavoured to conceal his discontent, and retired 
 from the apartment whither Balobor had been ordered to at- 
 tend him. 
 
 " Sadak," said the monarch to himself, "the proud Sadak still 
 pursues his inquiries after Kalasrade ; I will command him. to 
 appear in my presence, and heap the vengeance due to Kalas- 
 rade* s falsehood on his head." Amurath then gave orders for 
 the janissaries to bring Sadak before him, not by compulsion, 
 but to consult with him, as one. who had formerly experienced 
 the favours of his lord. The janissaries found the melancholy 
 Sadak instructing his little ones in the village whither they 
 had retired from the flames of his palace. They showed him 
 the signet of Amurath, and required his immediate attendance. 
 "Alas!" said the afflicted mourner, "doth Amurath again 
 mean to jest with his slave, that he calls me from this poor re- 
 cess ? Unless the trumpet sound, what call hath Sadak to the 
 court of kings? But I obey ; obedience and submission are 
 the most welcome tributes that a slave can offer." 
 
 The janissaries, having brought the wretched Sadak into the 
 presence of Amurath, retired. " Brave soldier !" said Amurath, 
 "hath the peaceful sloth of retirement yet unstrung your 
 manly heart, or are you still the undaunted warrior I once 
 knew you ? Can the shrill trumpet's sound, and the hollow 
 murmurs of the brazen cymbal, rouse the fire of war in all 
 your soul, or are you relaxed by the soft voice of love into the 
 inactive slumbers of a life of ease ? Say, brave companion of 
 
 k 2 
 
132 
 
 LIGHT FROM THE EAST. 
 
 my former toils, were Amuratli again to take the field, would 
 Sadak headlong plunge into the rapid stream? Would he, 
 laden with war's heavy trophies, again climb the rugged pre- 
 cipice, or sleep on beds of snow, or stand undaunted in the 
 bloody struggle of contending armies ?" " Dead as I am to 
 pleasure, noble Amurath I" said Sadak, " yet were my prince's 
 voice to call me to the field, Sadak again should live in arms, 
 and court the toils and horrors of war's bloody stage. Yes, 
 Amurath, at thy command, this arm should fix the standards 
 of our faith on Russia's frozen bounds, or on the burning sands 
 of Afric's distant shore." " Brave, noble Sadak !" said the 
 false Amurath, embracing him, " I cannot doubt your truth, 
 though the base minions of my court have stained that name 
 they long have envied with their mean surmises !" " A cour- 
 tier's malice, mighty Amurath !" replied Sadak, " is beneath 
 a soldier's notice, and best is answered, when occasion calls, by 
 deeds which their dastard minds shall shudder to relate." 
 "Such deeds," replied the artful monarch, "Amurath hath in 
 store for Sadak's arms to execute — deeds which wear the 
 fiercest countenance of danger, and which none but Sadak 
 dares to undertake." " My prince," answered Sadak, " Sadak 
 is ready to receive your commands, but the day is ill spent in 
 words, when action can only prove my worth." 
 
 u Sadak," answered Amurath, " the malicious whispers of 
 my courtiers concerning your worth, have much disturbed 
 me ; and I mean to-morrow, in the public divan, to give you 
 a glorious opportunity of convincing their little souls how 
 greatly the soldier towers above the advisers of the cabinet." 
 
 As the all-diffusive light of morn appeared, which shines 
 alike upon the care-worn countenance of the guilty wretch, 
 and on the open face of artless innocence, Amurath arose, 
 impatient till the hour of public audience came ; when, being 
 
SADAK AND KALASRADE. 
 
 133 
 
 seated on his throne, amidst the nobles of his court, and see- 
 ing the faithful Sadak at the extremity of the divan, he thus 
 began his deceitful speech : " Nobles and warriors, who by 
 your counsels and exploits in arms cast varied lustre on my 
 throne, say, where shall Amurath find that brave resolved 
 heart who will engage to procure for him the Waters of Obli- 
 vion, which are preserved in a far-distant isle, defended by 
 quicksands, monstrous rocks, the perils of the waves, and 
 flames of fire ? Genii are its guardians, and all nature is com- 
 bined to save it from man's possession. Such an acquisition, 
 nobles, would manifest to ail the earth the superiority of your 
 monarch, and the bravery of his subjects : who is there, then, 
 among your ranks dares hope to add such lustre to my throne, 
 and such honour to himself? But speak not, nobles, unless 
 a fixed resolve attend your speech. To undertake and not suc- 
 ceed would wither, and not increase, the laurels we have al- 
 ready won in arms ; wherefore, be these the terms on which 
 the noble adventurer issues forth : let him be sworn not to 
 turn back till he have the water in his possession. Let him 
 likewise forfeit his life, if he depart not in search of this water 
 ere the remainder of this moon be worn away." As Amurath 
 left off speaking, a general silence succeeded, and the eyes of 
 all were turned upon Sadak. 
 
 The noble Sadak, perceiving no one offer, stood up, and 
 advanced toward the throne. " Descendant of Mohammed, and 
 lord of thy creatures !" said Sadak, and bowed before Amu- 
 rath, " behold, the hand of thy slave is prepared to execute 
 the desires of thy heart ; and here I swear, in this august 
 assembly, never to turn back till I have procured the waters ; 
 and ere three days be passed shall the face of Sadak be set 
 toward the dangers that surround the fountain of oblivion." — 
 " Thanks, noble Sadak !" said Amurath aloud, " thanks for 
 
134 
 
 LIGHT FROM THE EAST. 
 
 this proffered service, which my nobles feared to undertake : 
 and thus I swear before the face of Heaven, that when Sadak 
 returns I will make either him or one of his family the second 
 in honour throughout all my dominions." — The beguiled 
 Sadak understood not the base meaning of his lord ; but he 
 fell at his feet, and kissed the earth whereon Amurath stood. 
 
 The chief of the eunuchs, seeing the noble Sadak on the 
 divan, passed by his side as he was retiring, and whispered, 
 " Wait a few minutes, much-injured Sadak, and I will convey 
 into your hands the words of comfort." Sadak was astonished 
 at the speech of the eunuch ; and now his heart began to 
 misgive him, and tumults arose in his breast. Before the 
 crowd were dissipated out of the divan, the eunuch slipped a 
 note into Sadak's bosom, and the much-afflicted warrior 
 retired with it to the rocks which are behind the city, and 
 there read as follows : 
 
 cc Doubor, who oweth his life to the generous interposition 
 of thy father Elar, is distressed for his friend. Alas, noble 
 Sadak, Kalasrade is in the royal seraglio, and Amurath is — 
 what my hand dare not write ! He alone, who has undertaken 
 to procure the Waters of Oblivion is able to enter the seraglio 
 of Amurath. Doubor has no command without ; but should 
 Sadak escape through the janissaries, and scale the wall at the 
 eastern part of the gardens, Doubor will this night watch his 
 approach, and convey him to the apartments of the wretched 
 Kalasrade. May Allah forbid that the life which Elar saved 
 should be sacrificed by the imprudence of Sadak ! ;; 
 
 Sadak returned to the city in order to , procure such 
 things as might be necessary to assist him in his under- 
 taking. Going to the Eezestein, he ordered an iron to be 
 made with five hooks, and an eye in the centre ; and at the 
 silk merchant's bought a cord of silk fifty feet in length : he 
 
SADAE AND KALASRADE. 
 
 135 
 
 also purchased a small iron trowel and a poniard. Having 
 these things in his possession, in the evening he went down to 
 the water-side, between Pera and Constantinople, and, sud- 
 denly unloosing a small boat, he launched it into the gulf 
 Keratius, and swiftly rowed to Riscula, which is on a rock, 
 near the shore of Asia, facing the eastern part of the seraglio. 
 Here the determined Sadak rested on his oars, till the clouds 
 of night had shortened the vigilant sight of the janissaries, 
 and the tide was fallen from the walls of the palace ; when, 
 paddling toward the seraglio, he advanced in his boat within 
 six hundred paces of the shore. A part of the guard, who 
 were then going round on the beach to examine the walls, 
 halted at the noise of Sadak' s oars, and made a signal for a 
 galley which lay near them to come up. The slaves in the 
 galley obeyed the janissaries, and, coming along-side the 
 shore, took them on board. The janissaries directed them to 
 row toward the place where they imagined they had heard the 
 paddling of oars, and in a few minutes Sadak perceived one of 
 the sultan's galleys advancing toward him. The bold Sadak, 
 pleased at the success of his stratagem, gently glided out of 
 the boat into the water, and diving wide of the galley, some- 
 times rising for breath, and at other times continuing to strike 
 forward under the water, he in a short time reached the shore, 
 and landed between Sera Burni and the gate Topcapu, through 
 which his beloved was hurried by the slaves of the seraglio. 
 
 Sadak, knowing that his time must not be wasted, as the 
 janissaries, finding no one in the boat, would soon return to 
 the shore, immediately pulled out the iron with five hooks, 
 and the silken cord, and fastening them together, he threw 
 the hook over the wall, which catching on the top, by means 
 of the silken cord, Sadak raised himself up on the wall ; then 
 again fixing the hook on the inner side, in such a manner as 
 
136 
 
 LIGHT FROM THE EAST. 
 
 he might loosen it from the wall, by shaking the cord back- 
 ward and forward, he quickly descended into the gardens of 
 the seraglio, and, unhitching the iron from the wall with a 
 few shakes of the cord, he took out his trowel, and buried 
 them in the earth ; then hastening towards a thicket of small 
 trees and shrubs, he hid himself therein. 
 
 Here Sadak had time to recollect his thoughts ; but he was 
 hardly covered by the bushes, before he heard the galley on 
 the opposite side of the wall strike against the shore, and 
 could distinguish the voices of the janissaries descending from 
 its sides. By their conversation he learned that they were 
 alarmed at finding a boat without any one in it ; and as they 
 hastened toward the gate Topcapu, he doubted not but they 
 would shortly raise the guards of the seraglio. In the midst 
 of these thoughts Sadak heard the fall of feet approaching 
 toward him ; and presently one drew near the bushes, and was 
 entering into the very place where Sadak was concealed. 
 Although the mind of Sadak was more disturbed at the 
 approach of the stranger than it had ever been in the field of 
 blood, yet he neglected not to draw his poniard ; and, as the 
 stranger entered among the bushes, he seized him, and was 
 about to strike the steel into his heart, when Doubor cried 
 out, " O Sadak, destroy not thy friend !" 
 
 The spirits of Sadak, having been flurried by the noise of 
 the janissaries, made him forget the appointment of Doubor 
 to meet him in the garden ; but, when he perceived it was the 
 grateful eunuch, he dropped the poniard on the earth, and 
 said, u O friend of my bosom ! forgive the fears and the dis- 
 traction of the miserable Sadak, who in mad fury had nearly 
 sacrificed his comforter, and driven the poniard of suspicion 
 into the breast of the tender-hearted Doubor !" — " Noble 
 Sadak V answered the chief of the eunuchs, " I wonder not 
 
SADAK AND KALASRADE. 
 
 137 
 
 at your suspicions; it is a hard task for the brave to dissemble, 
 or for the generous warrior to descend to the dark deeds of a 
 midnight robber. But let us hasten toward the seraglio. Yet, 
 before we issue forth out of this thicket let me help you to 
 dress yourself in the habit of a mute ; the garments are 
 hidden in the thicket behind, and I was coming to see whether 
 they were safe against your arrival, when you seized me by 
 the arm." Sadak was pleased at the proposal of the chief of 
 the eunuchs ; and stripping himself, he left his own garments 
 concealed in the thicket, and putting on the mute's habit, 
 followed Doubor toward the seraglio. Doubor, advancing 
 toward the seraglio, made a sign for the eunuchs that were 
 placed at the gates to retire ; and, entering, he bid his mute 
 follow him to the apartments of Kalasrade. The joy of Sadak, 
 at the thoughts of again viewing his beloved, and his fears, 
 lest any unfortunate disaster should discover him, raised alter- 
 nate storms in his breast ; but the mighty warrior concealed 
 in his countenance the strong passions which beset his heart. 
 After passing through several galleries, the chief of the 
 eunuchs arrived at the apartment of the beauteous Kalasrade, 
 and was about to enter, when he perceived the royal sandals 
 at the door. Doubor started back at the sight. " O Mo- 
 hammed," said he in a whisper, " Amurath is risen in the 
 dead of night, and entered into Kalasrade' s apartment I" 
 
 The words of Doubor were as deadly poison to the heart of 
 Sadak : the cold hand of death chilled his astonished blood, 
 and his weak nature could scarcely sustain the mighty shock. 
 
 " O Doubor, Doubor I" said the wretched son of Elar, 
 " support my conflicting frame, O Doubor. I am unable to 
 bear this tenfold death. Ah ! tyrant ! — ah, my friend, if 
 
 I strike, thou must perish ; if I withhold my arm 
 
 O, wretched Sadak, wander not into that hell of thought. 
 
138 
 
 LIGHT PEOMTHE E 
 
 O Mohammed ! O Allali ! have I deserved this torture ? If I 
 have, strike with thy merciful thunder this rebellious heart ; 
 if not, strengthen and support the wretch whom thou art 
 pleased to load with ills past human thought. O that I were 
 a worm, to be trodden under a giant's foot ! O that I were a 
 toad, and my food corruption, that I were a camel in the 
 desert, or an ass in the mill ! that I were aught but Sadak, 
 the accursed of his prophet V 3 As the miserable Sadak thus 
 poured forth his griefs in the bosom of his friend, the affrighted 
 Doubor pressed his head, and covered it with the folds of his 
 garment, that the voice of the wretched Sadak might not 
 pierce the walls of the apartment, and raise the suspicion of 
 Amurath ; but his utmost precaution could not prevent the 
 sighs of Sadak, whose wounded and afflicted soul was as the 
 wearied boar of the forest, when pierced with the darts and 
 javelins of a thousand hunters. 
 
 In the midst of his sighs, the door of the apartment opened, 
 Amurath came forth, and Sadak, leaving the bosom of Doubor, 
 fell with his face toward the earth. u Doubor !" said the sul- 
 tan, " where hast thou been ? and where are thy guards ? 
 "Who is that mute thou didst cherish in thy bosom ? and why 
 art thou here in the dark hour of night Y* " Lord of princes !" 
 answered Doubor, " when my master retired to his sofa, I 
 went to examine the guard of eunuchs, and to see that thy 
 slaves were faithful to their trust ; and at my return, perceiv- 
 ing that my lord was arisen, I called this mute to me, as I was 
 unwilling to disturb my sultan with the feet of his guards, and 
 followed thee to the apartment of the ever-blooming Kalasrade. 
 But as I tarried here, waiting lest my lord should have any 
 command for his slave to execute, the poor mute fell sick, and 
 in pity I took him to my bosom ; as I have learned from the 
 kindness which my lord shows his slaves, to copy, as far as my 
 
SADAK AND KALASRADE. 
 
 139 
 
 poor and weak capacity will permit, the bright virtues of the 
 favourite of Allah." " Doubor," said Amurath, " I commend 
 your care ; but since the slave is ill, let him be sent to Kalas- 
 rade to nurse : the haughty fair one despises my condescend- 
 ing love, and the embraces of the son of Othman are grievous 
 to the wife of Sadak; wherefore, Doubor, see you place this 
 slave on the sofa of Kalasrade, and let her fancy him her lover, 
 till she fling her proud arms around him, and call him Sadak 
 and her lord." 
 
 The heart of Doubor rejoiced at the words of Amurath ; but 
 he concealed his joy, and said, "Will the glory of the Oth- 
 man race first suffer me to attend him to the apartments of 
 my sultan ?" " Doubor," said Amurath, sternly, " have I 
 said, and shall I recall my words ? Slave ! obey me instantly, 
 and force this wretch into Kalasrade' s arms !" The chief of 
 the eunuchs, laying his hand upon his breast, bowed down and 
 said, " The will of Amurath is the law of his slave." 
 
 No sooner was Amurath gone, than the chief of the eunuchs 
 raised up Sadak, and said, u Son of Elar, friend of my bosom, 
 first in my esteem, arise and perform the commands of Amu- 
 rath." "Yes, faithful, generous Doubor, thou balsam of peace 
 to my wounded soul, thou ray of heaven on the spirits of the 
 afflicted ! I will arise and bless the great Fountain of happi- 
 ness for the merciful change he has wrought in my favour. 
 Now, Doubor, I am more than Amurath — I am about to enjoy 
 a paradise, from which, O Allah ! grant the blood of Othman 
 be for ever barred ! While the emperor of the world retires 
 to a discontented sofa, Sadak shall revel in the rich pastures of 
 unsatiated pleasure. But why do I delay to seek Kalasrade ? 
 if life is short, how fleeting are the joys of life !" At these 
 words, Doubor interposed : " Permit me, O fortunate Sadak !" 
 said he, " to go first unto Kalasrade, and prepare her delicate 
 
140 
 
 LIGHT FROM THE EAST. 
 
 frame for your reception, lest the strong tide of returning hap- 
 piness overpower her nature, and faintness, or death, again 
 snatch her from the embrace of her beloved." The tender Sa- 
 dak acquiesced in the reasons of the chief of the eunuchs, and 
 Doubor hastened to impart to Kalasrade the arrival of her be- 
 loved. After a few minutes, Doubor returned, and entered 
 with Sadak into the female apartments. 
 
 As the happy Kalasrade beheld the features of her lord 
 under the disguise of a mute, she sprang forward, her eyes 
 enlivened by the transports of her heart, and, with a fond sur- 
 prise, half fearful, half overjoyed, she pressed him in her arms. 
 
 " By what stratagem," said Sadak eagerly, " hath Kalas- 
 rade rescued herself from the mighty Amurath ?" u Monarch 
 of my affections !" answered Kalasrade, " I challenge not the 
 honour of the device ; it is to Doubor' s prudence that I owe 
 my safety : he opened to me the cause of his friendship for the 
 son of Elar, and advised me, when Amurath should again re- 
 turn to me, that I should use him deceitfully, and engage him 
 by a vow not to come near me till he should procure for me 
 the Waters of Oblivion." " And what concession," said the 
 stern Sadak, " has Kalasrade made the sultan Amurath, to 
 obtain from him this mighty and important vow ?" " Alas ! 
 noble Sadak," said Doubor, interposing, "the wary sultan 
 hath turned our toils upon ourselves, and we are caught in the 
 snare which was laid for the foot of Amurath." " What, 
 Doubor !" replied the astonished Kalasrade, " what doth thy 
 ominous tongue, and the stern front of my offended lord, por- 
 tend ? Ah ! said you not that Amurath hath entangled us ? 
 Hath he then, faithful Doubor ! made a false use of my sooth- 
 ing words ? Hath he defiled my honour by loose hints ? 
 Nov/, on my soul, brave Sadak ! the tyrant lies; never, never, 
 in word or thought, hath Kalasrade injured her lord ; and I 
 
SADAK AND KALASRADE. 
 
 141 
 
 call the great Allah and the spirits of the just to witness, Amu- 
 rath, the vile Amurath ! hath never approached the arms of 
 Sadak's wife !" 
 
 " Peace ! gentle and much-injured fair one !" said Doubor; 
 " and dissipate, brave Sadak, the cloud on thy brow. Kalasrade 
 never has nor can yield to AmuratVs desires ; nor hath the 
 prince pretended to boast of joys he never knew. No, con- 
 stant pair ! Amurath, though furious in his revenge, is just 
 and perfect in his speech ; and would as quickly throw off the 
 state of his empire as falsify his oath. But briefly thus it is, 
 sweet mistress'of brave Sadak' s heart. The sultan, nettled at 
 your request, when he found it would prevent him for a long- 
 season from using force to compel you, cast about how he 
 might make your imagined security as irksome to yourself as 
 it was forbidding to him ; and therefore he has engaged thy 
 unsuspecting lord by a firm oath to seek for him the waters of 
 oblivion, and never to return to the Othman empire till he 
 bring with him the produce of that inaccessible fountain." 
 u AYhat," said the affrighted Kalasrade — " what are the words 
 which have escaped the lips of the generous Doubor ? Look 
 on me, O Sadak, thou much injured lord ! Look on her who, 
 by a mean device, hath heaped eternal afflictions on thy heart ! 
 Oh, curse on this tongue, on this heart, on this head, which 
 have all been the wretched instruments of Sadak's banishment ! 
 Ah, bird of Adiram ! ah, sweet-spoken Doubor ! see you not 
 the poison that lurks under the tongue of the adder ? see you 
 not the flames which lie beneath the verdant surface of the 
 burning Santorini? O Sadak ! Sadak ! rather let me run to 
 Amurath, and satisfy his brutal appetite, than suffer Sadak to 
 wander amidst ten thousand deaths. The treacherous sands 
 my love, will sink with thee ; evil genii will hurl thee from 
 the summit of their rocks ; thy wretched carcase shall be cast 
 
142 
 
 LIGHT FROM THE EAST. 
 
 ■upon an unknown shore ; the vultures of the air and the 
 monsters of the deep shall feast on my beloved ! And the wild 
 ungoverned Amurath, fearless of thy arm, will ravage the 
 poor remains of thy Kalasrade' s beauty \" " Rather/' said 
 Sadak, " shall this arm hurl instant vengeance on the tyrant's 
 head, and all the blood of Othman perish, than ever Kalasrade 
 shall be stained with Amurath's unhallowed touch !" " Ah ! 
 furious Sadak !" ansv^ered the chief of the eunuchs, " what mean 
 the black resolves of thy rebellious heart? But think not 
 Doubor intends to stand a tame spectator of thy malice • 
 faithful to my lord in every just command, through me must 
 the base Sadak reach the heart of Amurath. But moderate 
 your rage, bold man, and know, though Doubor loves not 
 every deed of Amurath, yet will he never prove a traitor to his 
 life. While Saclak means no more than to recover his Kalas- 
 rade, I am bound by gratitude and justice to espouse his cause ; 
 but if his murderous, traitorous heart aim at his prince's life, 
 both gratitude and justice call me then to Amurath's defence/' 
 " Generous Doubor !" answered Sadak, u I justly stand re- 
 buked : I were indeed a wretch, when holy Othman's race is 
 nearly extinct, to rob our faith of its last royal leader. No, 
 faithful eunuch ! the man who out of private malice gives con- 
 fusion to his country, and subverts his peace, deserves not pity 
 nor relief/' 
 
 " Are these, then," replied Kalasrade, in tears, " the vir- 
 tuous resolutions of a patriot, to give up private happiness to 
 public tyranny ? For what were Othman's race decreed to 
 rule, but for the safety of the faithful ? And if a tyrant vio- 
 late unchecked each social duty, it is he first robs his subjects 
 of their peace." 
 
 It was in vain that Doubor attempted to interrupt * the ve- 
 hemence of Sadak and Kalasrade; forgetful of themselves, or 
 
SADAK AND KALASRADE. 
 
 143 
 
 of the hazard of their friendly eunuch, they folded each other 
 in mutual embraces, and seemed resolved that nothing more 
 should part them. The distressed eunuch, finding every 
 remonstrance in vain, departed from the apartments of Kalas- 
 rade, and hastened to the chambers of the Sultan. Sadak 
 and Kalasrade, without perceiving the chief of the eunuchs 
 had left them, continued entranced in each other's arms, and 
 calling Allah to witness their mutual constancy and truth. 
 
 In the midst of these passionate expressions, the bird of 
 Adiram entered the windows of the palace, and, perching on 
 the shoulder of Sadak, thus delivered the message of his 
 mistress to the astonished pair : " To comfort the afflicted is 
 the delight of our race, and the inhabitants of Heaven stoop 
 with pleasure to the children of earth when mercy calls them 
 down : for this cause came the voice of consolation to Kalas- 
 rade when the evils of tyranny beset her ; Adiram also, the 
 servant of Mohammed, watched over the afflicted fair-one, and 
 gave to Doubor the feelings of compassion. By his counsels 
 was Amurath engaged in an inviolable oath to abstain from 
 his base purpose till the Waters of Oblivion were obtained. 
 
 "How have ye, wretched pair! perverted these kind purposes 
 of Adiram ! and where is that fortitude which first recom- 
 mended you to the tutelage of our immortal race ? By an ill- 
 judged perseverance, you have changed a virtuous constancy 
 into a vicious passion ; and, neglecting both the bonds of 
 friendship and the commands of Mohammed, you have nearly 
 sacrificed Doubor to your folly, and yourselves to the idle 
 dreams of uncurbed love. Love is a heavenly appetite, planted 
 in the human species to beget in them social harmonies : it 
 melts and subdues the savage heart, as the stubborn ore is 
 softened in the refiner's vessel ; and, when regulated by re- 
 ligion, it is ever protected by Allah and his prophet. But 
 
144 
 
 LIGHT FROM THE EAST. 
 
 blessings in the cup of the unrighteous are as the dregs of 
 Heaven's wrath ; and appetite, when it overcomes reason and 
 religion, is as the vassal of sin. Though Allah hath taught you 
 to submit, and bear with patience the evils of life, ye have 
 listened to the phantasies of love, and, in the bravery of your 
 hearts, resolved to pass together to the gates of death. Thus 
 stiith Adiram, the genius of Sadak and Kalasrade, who is 
 now compelled by the law of fate to leave her pupils to 
 the miseries they have entailed upon themselves." — The bird 
 of Adiram uttered no more, but flew on the elastic surface of 
 the air into the gardens of the palace. 
 
 The bird was no sooner gone forth than Sadak heard the 
 feet of a multitude in the gallery ; and, the doors of the 
 apartment immediately bursting open, the guards of the 
 seraglio entered, and seized on the unhappy pair. Sadak, 
 unmindful of himself, endeavoured to defend his beloved. But 
 resistance was vain, the guards parted him from Kalasrade, 
 and loaded him with chains. 
 
 As soon as Sadak was secured by the guards, the chief of 
 the eunuchs appeared at the door of the apartment. " Slaves \" 
 said he aloud, is the vile miscreant Sadak, who hath entered 
 the sacred walls of Amurath's seraglio, seized ? — u He is, 
 great Doubor ! w answered the guards ; " the chain of death is 
 on him, and we wait but for your commands to send his soul 
 among those who rebel against their prince." — " Hold, slave \ n 
 replied Doubor, " and secure him, unhurt, till the mighty 
 Amurath approach." 
 
 Sadak was confounded at the appearance and behaviour of 
 Doubor ; and Kalasrade wished to load him with reproach, 
 but she feared she might incur the censures of Adiram, as she 
 knew not as yet by what means her lord was discovered. Ere 
 long the music of the seraglio sounded ; and Doubor, the 
 
SADAK AND KALASRADE. 
 
 145 
 
 chief of tlie eunuchs, perceiving that Amurath was near, 
 hastened to receive him. u Prince of my life !" said the chief 
 . of the eunuchs, as the royal Amurath came forward with the 
 deadly frown on his brow, " thy slaves have secured the enemy 
 of thy peace." a Faithful Douhor V y replied Amurath, c( I com- 
 mend thy zeal. But where is this vile miscreant, who presumes 
 to invade the recesses of Amuratlr's seraglio ?" " Here, 
 tyrant !" said the stern Sadak, " if the oppressor dare look upon 
 his injured " 
 
 The wretched Kalasrade, seeing her lord in such distress, 
 broke from the guards, who held her but slightly, fearing the 
 same fate which befel the black slave, should Amurath relent; 
 and clasping the much-injured Sadak in her arms, "Vile 
 slaves!" said she, " unhand my lord!" Then, bursting into 
 tears, "O Sadak ! noble Sadak, " continued she; "joy of my 
 soul, and fountain of my life ! how have these wretches dared 
 deform thy noble image with their bonds of iron ! Why didst 
 thou not frown, my love, and fix them motionless with awe 
 and fear ? "What is this puny Amurath, and all his guards, 
 against the noble effort of thy uplifted arm ? Alas, alas ! my 
 Sadak ! they have bound you while you slept with ignominious 
 chains, and now the tyrant laughs at your distress." 
 
 The chief of the eunuchs having secured the distressed 
 Kalasrade, gave her into the custody of the eunuchs, and then 
 he commanded the guards to put the bow-string upon Sadak. 
 The wild miserable, Kalasrade at the sight of the bow-string, 
 screamed aloud, and fell into the arms of the eunuchs : her 
 fixed eyes were dilated with madness, and her teeth shook with 
 the agonies of death. Amurath saw the affecting change with 
 wild emotion, and, fearful lest the soul of Kalasrade should 
 escape, ordered the slaves to release Sadak from the bow-string. 
 " Slothful Doubor !" said Amurath, " hasten to my Kalasrade' s 
 
 L 
 
146 
 
 LIGHT FKOM THE EAST. 
 
 assistance ; for, by the Othman faith, I swear ye all shall fol- 
 low if my fair one perish." The attempts of Doubor and his 
 attendants were vain : Kalasrade continued entranced ; and 
 Amurath, in despair, ordered Sadak to be released, that he 
 might endeavour to recover his Kalasrade from her alarming 
 trance. 
 
 As soon as the guards had unbound Sadak, and released 
 his mouth, they signified to him the Sultan's orders, and led 
 him toward the motionless Kalasrade. " Happy Kalasrade ! M 
 said the brave Sadak, " I trust ere this the prophet of the 
 faithful hath delivered thee from the tyrant's power ; if not, 
 Sadak will not disturb thy fleeting spirit. Proceed, thou divine 
 spirit of innocence and virtue ! toward thy eternal mansion, 
 and let not the rude breath of Sadak' s voice divert thee from 
 thy righteous course !" " Ah ! blessed Allah !" said the faint 
 Kalasrade, reviving at her Sadak's well-known voice, "where 
 am I ? In what blissful seat hast thou placed me, where the 
 sweet music of my Sadak' s voice sings comfort to my soul? 
 Ah ! surely the trance of death is passed, and I am far re- 
 moved from Amurath and all his curses." " Unfortunate 
 Kalasrade," said Sadak, starting, " art thou again returned 
 from the sweet sleep of death to new-invented scenes of 
 misery ? Then bind me, slaves, again, and fix the bow-string 
 to my neck. Once more, thou virtuous partner of my heart, 
 I call thy faithful soul away. Tyrant ! release me from the 
 world ; for now I know Kalasrade will not stay behind." 
 u No, proud rebel !" said Amurath, when Kalasrade's life is 
 at stake, thy being is of trivial moment : at present, live, that 
 she may live for whom only life is sweet. But I demean my 
 royalty in holding speech with such a slave. Doubor, separate 
 these stubborn spirits ; and, for Kalasrade's sake, let Sadak, 
 though confined, want not life's comforts. But, eunuch 
 
SAD AK AND KALASEADE. 
 
 147 
 
 watch witli steady eye my beauteous sultana; supply her 
 wants unbidden; yet, on your life, take care her frantic wild- 
 ness is not suffered to prey upon herself; and, Doubor, when 
 these things are executed according to the will of thy lord, let 
 me see thee in the palace of pictures." 
 
 At these words the sultan Amurath retired ; and Doubor, 
 having executed his commission, hastened to meet his lord. 
 u Faithful eunuch!" said Amurath, as he entered, "I am 
 pleased at thy contrivance ; it had been dangerous, as thou 
 well observedst, to have seized on Sadak, the favourite of the 
 janissaries, in the public face of day : but now, by thy artifice, 
 his life is forfeit, and the silent bow-string will, unheard, re- 
 lease me from this enemy of my love. Wherefore I mean that, 
 ere to-morrow' s sun survey the wide-extended Othman empire, 
 my faithful Doubor, with a few attendants, seize on his forfeit 
 life." " Lord of the Othman empire !" answered Doubor, " I 
 shall obey the law of thy mouth." 
 
 " But, Doubor," said Amurath, " one circumstance still 
 hangs upon my doubtful mind. You say this Sadak entered 
 the seraglio by your advice ; yet, Doubor, what need was 
 there to bring him in the silent hour of midnight to Kalasrade's 
 apartment? to have detected him in our royal gardens was 
 sufficient. Doubor, the thought breeds anguish in my soul ; 
 besides, traitor ! thou leddest him as a mute into Kalasrade's 
 arms. Slave ! slave ! thou liest, and Amurath is betrayed !" 
 "Most enlightened of sovereigns !" answered Doubor, "the 
 slave that dared attempt to deceive my lord might justly 
 tremble, as nothing can escape thy penetrating eye. Alas ! 
 had ignorant Doubor the judgment of the father of the faith- 
 ful, I had assuredly done as thou hast said ; but, foolishly 
 hoping to do more, I have nearly forfeited the esteem of my 
 sultan." " What more didst thou mean, vain man, to exe- 
 
 l 2 
 
148 
 
 LIGHT FROM THE EAST. 
 
 cute?" said Amurath, somewhat softened. " Mighty Amu- 
 rath. !" answered the chief of the eunuchs, " when first I 
 brought the disguised Sadak from the gardens of the sera- 
 glio, I asked the deceitful slave whether he would yield Kalas- 
 rade to thy arms, if Amurath would vest him with a vizier's 
 honours ; to which he yielded a pretended assent, and assured 
 me he would engage Kalasrade to receive thy embrace, the 
 moment she was convinced of his exaltation. 
 
 " Allured by this promise, I led him to the fair one's apart- 
 ment ; and, as I hoped the consequence would be grateful to 
 my sultan, I neglected to inform thee of Sadak's presence till 
 I had heard the issue of his conference with Kalasrade. But 
 when I had brought the deceitful slave before her, unmindful 
 of his promise, he attempted to pour forth a love tale at her 
 feet ; upon which I hastened to inform thee of his presence, 
 and the guards of the seraglio soon secured the deceitful 
 wretch." " Since, then, he values love beyond the honours 
 of the Othman state," said Amurath, " let him fall a sacrifice 
 to love ! Doubor, dispatch him instantly ; each moment that 
 he lives increases my disquiet ; but remember his breath in 
 secret pass, that not a sigh contaminate the air to wound Kal- 
 asrade' s peace." 
 
 No sooner was Doubor gone, than the wavering Amurath 
 began to repent that he had sent him. " How am I divided," 
 said he, " by love and honour ! Without the Waters of Obli- 
 vion are obtained, my sacred oath prevents all intercourse with 
 Kalasrade; and if Sadak dies, who shall be able to surmount 
 the dangers that environ the fountains of oblivion ? Guards," 
 said the anxious sultan, u call back the slave Doubor ; stop his 
 officious haste, and bring him here before your prince." The 
 chief of the eunuchs returned. " Peace," said he, " be to the 
 mighty Amurath ! and may all his foes perish before him 1" 
 
SADAK AND KALASRADE. 
 
 149 
 
 " What, wretched eunuch/' said Amurath hastily, " is Sadak 
 numbered with the dead ?" " The word of my lord/' replied 
 Doubor, " was pressings and thy slave hasted to obey thy com- 
 mand ; but, being recalled so suddenly by thy guards, I stop- 
 ped the slaves who drew the bow-string, and Sadak on his 
 knees expects his doubtful fate/' " Then all is well/' replied 
 Amurath ; " for I mean not, Doubor, to destroy the doating 
 wretch, through whom alone — such has been thy master's 
 folly — must Amurath hope to reach Kalasrade's beauties." 
 u Alas !" replied Doubor, " thy slave doth oft reflect upon the 
 oath which robs my sultan of the haughty fair one." 
 
 " Yet, Doubor, think not/' continued Amurath, " that I 
 mean to break my faith where interest or occasion tempts : no, 
 I have bound this happy and luxurious Sadak to draw his 
 own destruction from the fountains of oblivion; and now, if 
 he fail to execute the vow, his life is justly forfeited, and Ka- 
 lasrade at our own disposal. Wherefore, Doubor, let a ship 
 be prepared to convey him to that distant island, where the 
 Waters of Oblivion are concealed." 
 
 The chief of the eunuchs hasted to obey the command of 
 Amurath; and returning to the dungeon where Sadak ex- 
 pected the end of his fate, he ordered the mutes to release 
 him. Sadak, amazed at the order of Doubor, arose ; and the 
 mutes having released him, retired. 
 
 The chief of the eunuchs of the - seraglio conveyed Sadak 
 through the water-gate, to the ship which was prepared to sail 
 in quest of the Waters of Oblivion : neither had Sadak, by rea- 
 son of the attendant guards, any opportunity of expressing his 
 gratitude to Doubor. As soon as Sadak was embarked, the 
 ship set sail, and the noble son of Elar found that the cap- 
 tain of the ship was a Christian renegade ; for Doubor had in 
 vain sought after one of his own nation, who was sufficiently 
 skilled in navigation, to perform the voyage. 
 
150 
 
 LIGHT FROM THE EAST. 
 
 For several days the ship ran swiftly before the wind, and 
 hurried the unfortunate Sadak from the place of his beloved, 
 as the vulture bears in his talons the panting lamb from its 
 mother's teats. But these winds were, after a short time, 
 succeeded by a calm ; in which, being detained from the'ir pur- 
 pose, and a small gale afterwards arising, the captain of the 
 vessel put into the island of Serfu, and there continued for 
 two months, neither suffering his men to land, nor permitting 
 the natives to enter his ship. 
 
 A small vessel arriving from Constantinople, at length 
 brought the captain the orders he expected ; and, the wind 
 being favourable, he hoisted his sails and steered for the At- 
 lantic ocean. And now they were passing the island of Kiri- 
 gou, when a storm arose: and, after many days' buffeting 
 against the wind, it obliged them to sail into the bay which 
 embosoms the city of Koron. It was in vain the citizens 
 made signs for the ship to steer away from their port ; the 
 swelling ocean and the fierce winds united drove them preci- 
 pitately on the beach, and every one being terrified with the 
 storm, they hastened on shore, leaving the ship at anchor near 
 the beach. u Unhappy mariners P* said an aged citizen to them 
 as they walked up the beach, " you have escaped the womb 
 of the sea to be buried in this contagious city." The mariners 
 hung down their heads at this dreadful declaration, and Sadak 
 perceived that the plague was raging in the city of Koron. 
 
 The captain, Gehari, ordered his crew to seize on Sadak, at 
 the same time sending notice to the governor of the city that 
 he bore the commission of Amurath, and had a state prisoner 
 under his care. Sadak was amazed at the captain's behaviour ; 
 for he knew not before that he was looked upon as a prisoner, 
 or that Gehari had any command over him. 
 
 It was happy for Gehari that his prisoner was of a noble 
 
SADAK AND KALASBADE. 
 
 151 
 
 temper : for such was the confusion of the city, that the go- 
 vernor had neither guard nor authority among his miserable 
 subjects, and Sadak boldly entered the city of Koron; and,, 
 while the ghastly inhabitants sat trembling and inactive in 
 their houses, Sadak and his companions exercised the compas- 
 sionate offices of humanity on the miserable objects that sur- 
 rounded them. But his laborious and dangerous employment 
 soon overwhelmed the noble Sadak, and he found the plague 
 had seized his distempered blood. 
 
 After two days he arose, his knees tottering with the weight 
 of his emaciated body ; he cast his hollow eyes around him, 
 and on every side saw the dismal marks of the all-destructive 
 plague. But what engaged his chief attention were two youths 
 who were kneeling on the ground beside an aged body, which 
 was just sending forth its last pestiferous breath, as a deadly 
 legacy between its children. Their pious tears, and their 
 duteous attention to the expiring sage, mixed with a submis- 
 sive resignation to the will of Allah, struck the soul of Sadak, 
 long before he perceived they were the sons of his strength, 
 who were performing the last sad offices to Mepiki, the father 
 of Kalasrade. u My children, my duteous children/' said the 
 enervated Sadak, crawling with trembling limbs to their as- 
 sistance, " may Allah bless your pious care ! you are, indeed, 
 the sons of Sadak, and the offspring of Kalasrade, and your 
 father is better pleased to see you thus active in this vale 
 of death, than crowned with the conquest of unnumbered 
 foes." 
 
 The astonishment of Codan and Ahud, at the sight of their 
 father, did not prevent their attendance on the dying Mepiki ; 
 they closed the eyes of their departing friend with pious tears, 
 and embraced with reverence the dead body of their honoured 
 ancestor. 
 
152 
 
 LIGHT FROM THE EAST. 
 
 His son related the success of Mepiki in withdrawing 
 the sons of Sadak from the power of Amurath, and how 
 they had embarked in a merchant's sloop bound for Koron, 
 in which they came with favourable gales, and landed not long 
 since in this miserable city. The mariners who came with them 
 escaped not the pestilence, although they had left the city of 
 Ismir ; they were seized with the contagion as soon as they 
 landed, and the disorder raged with such violence, that ere 
 half the moon w r as elapsed, the whole city groaned under its 
 wretched influence. 
 
 The aged Mepiki for some time shut himself up in an inner 
 apartment, hoping to escape the contagion, but when he found 
 the deadly disorder had seized him, he commanded Sadak's 
 sons to carry him forth into the open air, which, in obedience 
 to his will, they performed that morning. " And have ye, my 
 children/' said Sadak hastily, "overcome the contagion? or 
 hath it yet delayed to seize on your youthful frames ?" ec We 
 have hitherto," ^answered Codan, " experienced a doubtful life : 
 but, seeing our parent hath escaped from the danger of the 
 plague, we shall no longer accuse our stars of leading us to 
 the horrors of this place." " Son," answered Sadak, " to accuse 
 fate is to rebel against Allah; and no circumstances can justify 
 our imprecations, while our faith mtist assure us that he is 
 the merciful governor of all our fortunes." Codan, abashed 
 at the reproof of Sadak, covered his breast with-his declining 
 head. 
 
 The captain now approached Sadak, and informed him that 
 of all his mariners seven only had escaped the plague. He 
 therefore proposed that Codan and Ahud should supply 
 the place of two of his officers, and the rest he must seek for 
 in some neighbouring port. " Friendly Gehari," answered 
 Sadak, " how shall I repay thy generous services ? Permit 
 
S4DAK AND KALASRADE. 
 
 153 
 
 us only to hide the corpse of our dear parent in the earth, and 
 we will attend thy will/ 5 At these words Gehari left Sadak 
 and his children, and calling together his scattered mariners, 
 returned to the ship. 
 
 Sadak in the meantime assisted his sons in their melancholy 
 office ; and, having covered up the body of Mepiki, he led 
 them to the vessel which Gehari commanded. The wind, 
 blowing from the land, soon wafted them from the city of 
 Koron towards the straits which divide the Atlantic from the 
 Pacific ocean. But, as they approached the land, the wind 
 arose, and the sea beat in tempestuous billows against the 
 vessel. The mariners in vain pointed their vessel to the west ; 
 her sides shook, as fearful of the storm ; and the ship started 
 from the face of the tempest, as the w r ar-horse trembles in the 
 day of battle. 
 
 Sadak beheld the conflicting elements with patience and 
 calmness ; but Codan w T as terrified at the black mountainous 
 ocean, which rose in broken precipices above the masts of the 
 ship. As the vessel sunk embosomed in hollow-sounding 
 billows, so sunk the heart of Codan ; and Sadak in vain at- 
 tempted to give to his son a courageous mind. " Is this 
 Codan ?" said his father, as he saw him dissolved in tears, and 
 trembling at his fate ; u is this the descendant of Elar, who 
 so nobly supported the dying Mepiki ? Where, wretched son, 
 is that undaunted mind which formerly endeared thee to thy 
 parents ?" " Pardon, O Sadak," answered Codan, " the mis- 
 givings of my soul ; it is not for myself, O parent of my life, 
 but for thee, my heart pants, and my strength flies from me : 
 was it not sufficient that Amurath bereaved thee of Kalasrade, 
 without sending thee hither amidst conflicting elements?" 
 
 " Codan V 9 answered Sadak, " thy fears for me discover a 
 noble soul, and Sadak thanks thee for them ; but dismiss 
 
154 
 
 LIGHT FKOM THE EAST. 
 
 them quickly, Codan." As Sadak was uttering these words, 
 a tremendous swell broke over the ship, and the wave over- 
 whelmed both Sadak and his son. The father instantly se- 
 cured himself by embracing a part of the ship, which saved 
 him from the efforts of the wave, but Codan became a sacrifice 
 to its violence, and v/as driven over the sides of the vessel into 
 the tumultuous ocean. 
 
 After some time the storm abated, and Gehari prepared to 
 run through the straits into the Pacific Ocean. The rest of 
 the voyage passed uninterrupted by the wind or the sea, but 
 the serenity of the weather did but ill compensate to Sadak 
 for the loss of his first-born. 
 
 After fifty days' sailing Gehari discovered a great smoke, 
 and in the night could distinguish at a distance flames of fire. 
 The island was now discovered, and, in the middle of it, a huge 
 mountain whose summit reached far above the fleeting clouds, 
 where an uncommon volcano vomited forth a wide deluge of 
 liquid fire, which broke forth from the mountain with terrible 
 roarings, and a mighty sound, as of winds bursting from the 
 deep caverns of the earth. The glowing deluge descended 
 down the mountain in a sheet of fire, and, rushing violently 
 into the sea, drove back the affrighted waves in dreadful hisses 
 from its surface, and for a long time preserved its fiery course 
 beneath the waters that foamed above it. 
 
 The countenance of Gehari was now fixed with astonishment 
 and dread ; and he confessed to Sadak that he dared not trust 
 his ship nearer to the land. " Give me, then, answered the 
 undaunted warrior, " a boat, and a small portion of your pro- 
 vision, and Sadak will alone risk the dangers that surround 
 the fountains of oblivion." " No, my father," answered the 
 duteous Ahud, " there is yet one left that is ready to share 
 with thee the dangers of this horrid place." 
 
SADAK AND KALASRADE. 
 
 155 
 
 The unhappy father and his son descended from the side of 
 the ship into the boat which Gehari had prepared for their re- 
 ception, while the captain and his mariners poured after them 
 the unavailing tears of friendship and compassion. The boat 
 was about three leagues distant from the shore when it parted 
 from the ship ; and, the wind blowing fair, Sadak steered it 
 briskly for the island of the Waters of Oblivion. The nearer 
 they approached, the more tremendous looked the rocks which 
 surrounded the island, against which the sea beat and roared 
 as if it strove in vain for a place whereon it might rest. Being 
 arrived within half a league, the boat struck on a quicksand ; 
 and Sadak could neither move it, nor would the treacherous 
 sand bear his weight w T hen he attempted to wade forward on 
 its surface. After many fruitless endeavours, he took several 
 small boards which formed .the bottom floor of the boat, and 
 tying them together, made two rafts, which he laid on the 
 sand, and moving one forward while he stood on the other, he 
 thus made some small progress toward the island. But this was 
 an imperfect attempt, and as the raft would bear but one at a 
 time, Ahud was left a helpless spectator in the boat. To con- 
 quer this difficulty, Sadak returned again to the boat, and by 
 the help of the oars and rudder, he made a third raft ; so that, 
 by Ahud's following his father's steps, and giving the raft which 
 he stepped from to Sadak, who went before him, they with 
 difficulty moved forward to the rocks that surrounded the 
 Waters of Oblivion. 
 
 The tide had been several hours falling from the rocks, 
 when Sadak arrived under their prominent horrors, and had 
 left a narrow beach, on which he and Ahud rested after their 
 perilous journey. Here Sadak and his wretched son recruited 
 their wearied bodies with such refreshment as they had brought 
 in their garments from the boat, which, though scarcely suffi- 
 
156 
 
 LIGHT FROM THE EAST. 
 
 cient for the next day's support, was the only means of living 
 they could see before them, unless they should be able to 
 scale the overhanging precipices, whose heads seemed wrapped 
 in the dark clouds that were gathered around their rugged 
 summits. 
 
 Saclak and Ahud having refreshed their limbs, arose and 
 went about under the rocks in search of some opening which 
 might afford them an entrance into the island ; but ere they 
 could discover any passage, they came in sight of the burning 
 torrent, and were obliged to retire from its destructive influ- 
 ence. To add to this distress, the tide returned with violence 
 around them, and the swelling ocean arose on the beach, so 
 that Sadak and his son were half covered by the sea. 
 
 Thus wretched, they waded backward and forward on the 
 beach, till Ahud discovered a small cavern in the rock, whose 
 bottom the tide had not reached, when Sadak and his son as- 
 cended into it. In this gloomy cavern, which dripped, with 
 the salt tears of the ocean, they obtained a few moments' re- 
 lief; but the ascending swell followed them ere long into the 
 cavern, and, dashing its rude waves against them, drove them 
 on the ragged face of the rock. The tide, however, rose not 
 above them, but after a long persecution, retired, and left them 
 nearly exhausted by its rude bufferings, and the wretched 
 father, and his duteous son, overcome with unnatural toils, 
 slumbered on the sea- weed which the water had left them for 
 their miserable bed. 
 
 " Fear not, Ahud/' said Sadak, " these gloomy rocks hide 
 not this disordered prospect from our prophet's sight : he 
 through the tumult looks on us, and watches lest our faithless 
 spirits sink from their just dependance upon Allah's power." 
 
 In the midst of his religious expressions, the afflicted 
 Sadak could not prevent some fears that arose in his mind, 
 
SADAK AND KALASRADE. 
 
 157 
 
 when he reflected on the exposed situation of his beloved Ka- 
 lasrade since her lord's departure from the seraglio. 
 
 While dark clouds were gathering over the miserable Ka~ 
 lasrade, Sadak and his son were tbe victims of the storni, be- 
 neath the rocks of the Island of Oblivion : but the piety of 
 Sadak, and the submission of Ahud, alleviated in some mea- 
 sure the dreadful hours of that night of horrors, till day arose, 
 and chased from their eyes the gloomy visions of the night; 
 but with the friendly day returned again the unfriendly tide, 
 buffetting their bruised limbs, and smothering them with its 
 waves, as the insect which preys upon the plantain-leaf is 
 washed by solstitial showers. 
 
 After waiting with patience the reflux of the tide from their 
 cavern, Sadak, unwilling to lose the benefits of the day, led 
 Ahud out on the narrow beach, while as yet they were forced 
 to wade through the sea; and directing their steps toward the 
 left, they endeavoured to surround that part of the island 
 which was opposite to the burning torrent. This toilsome 
 journey, though executed with the utmost difficulty and hazard, 
 was yet as hopeless as the former ; the black rocks, which had 
 been hollowed by the weaves, hung in rude arch- work over their 
 heads each step they took, and formed a continued barrier, 
 without any interruption, except where the sea broke inward 
 in deep eddies, and formed in the fissures of the rock the giddy 
 whirlpool, "Wearied with this fruitless search, the wretched 
 Sadak led his duteous son back to the cavern, before the swel- 
 ling ocean rose again to exercise its severity on them ; and, 
 after having encountered its fury, they gladly sunk into a re- 
 pose, which lasted till the returning tide obliged them to rise. 
 
 But now, their provision being exhausted, or spoiled by the 
 water, still severer distresses encompassed them ; and the mis- 
 erable Sadak beheld his son wasted with fatigue, and overcome 
 with hunger and thirst. 
 
158 
 
 LIGHT FROM THE EAST. 
 
 At tlie return of the tide the waters formed a whirlpool, 
 and were drawn inwards through the fissure of the rocks. 
 "Whatever be our fate/' said Sadak, "this passage alone 
 seems to promise us the means of life ; for on this beach, ere 
 two suns are passed, we must perish by famine : wherefore 
 Ahud/' continued his father Sadak, " let us plunge together 
 through this dark eddy, and either meet an end to our toils or 
 a reward to our labours." "Father/' said Ahud faintly, "let 
 us not attempt together the dangers of this whirlpool ; but, 
 as I have less means of life remaining in me than yourself, I 
 will first explore the secrets of this watery cave." 
 
 Sadak, hoping his son might succeed, yielded to his en- 
 treaties ; and Ahud, having promised, if possible, to return 
 with the ebbing tide, plunged into the foaming whirlpool, and 
 disappeared from the sight of his anxious father. For a few 
 moments the heart of Sadak was buoyed up with pleasing ex- 
 pectations, and he doubted not but Ahud was already in the 
 land of plenty, but as the wretched parent looked on the foam- 
 ing whirlpool, and saw its tumultuous eddies roll engulphed 
 beneath the rocky bed whereon he stood, his weakened spirits 
 sunk within him, and he cried out in the agonies of despair, 
 " O Ahud, my son ! my son ! O treacherous ocean ! thou 
 hast robbed me of both my sons V The tide rising, obliged 
 him to return to his cavern, where the emaciated Sadak sat 
 wringing his hands, weeping for his children, and bemoaning 
 the fate of his miserable Kalasracle. 
 
 Sadak now waited impatiently the return of the tide, and 
 with the first wave that entered, leaped into the jaws of the 
 whirlpool. For several moments he was hurried through the 
 rocks, and bruised and wounded on all sides by their rugged 
 points, till light appeared through the waters, and he found 
 himself in a deep cave, surrounded with rocks, and open at the 
 
SADAK AND KALASRADE. 
 
 159 
 
 top. The rocks, growing wider and wider, formed an irregular 
 ascent, and with some difficulty the wounded Sadak crawled 
 upwards, till he had attained to the summit of the rocks. 
 Here he found an extended country, irregularly planted with 
 fruits &nd herbs, and plentifully watered with little rivulets 
 gushing out of many parts of the earth. As Sadak looked 
 round on this delightful prospect, he fell with his face to the 
 earth, and said, " O Allah ! thy creature poureth forth his 
 praises toward thee ; and the wretch whom thou hast blessed 
 adoreth thee for thy bounty." 
 
 As Sadak spoke these words the pleasant vision faded from 
 his sight, and he found himself cast forth by the waters on 
 the beach from whence he had leaped in the morning. " But 
 hold !" said the submissive Sadak, " if this change cometh 
 through my devotions to Allah, blessed be that change ! for 
 Sadak had rather acknowledge his God on the barren rocks, 
 than forget him in the mansions of festivity." 
 
 As Sadak spoke these words, he perceived the eddies of the 
 whirlpool to rise with an unusual swell, and a female, in vest- 
 ments of gold, came forth from its surface. " Righteous 
 Sadak !" said the genius Adiram, "I rejoice in thy fortitude, 
 and I am happy in being the messenger of thy comfort : but 
 ere I unfold to thee the wonders thou hast seen, permit me to 
 lead thee in security to that place from whence so lately thou 
 wast torn, as a sleeper from his dream." So saying, the 
 waters ceased from the fissures, and the genius and Sadak, 
 descending into the cave, shortly after attained to the 
 summit of the rocks, where Sadak had before seen the plains 
 of plenty. 
 
 As Sadak arrived on the plain, " Now," said the genius 
 Adiram to him, " arise and satisfy thy exhausted nature, and 
 then I will instruct thee in the lessons of our race." "JBut 
 
160 
 
 LIGHT FROM THE EAST. 
 
 first," answered Sadak, " O genius ! since such is human 
 weakness, that even seeming good may be real mischief in- 
 tended, let me address myself to that God in whom no one 
 shall be deceived ! for, if I partake of these viands, he first 
 whom I serve shall be blessed for his bounties." 
 
 As Sadak spoke thus, he fell on the earth, and said, " O 
 Allah ! thy creature poureth forth his praises toward thee ; 
 and the wretch whom thou hast blessed, adoreth thee for thy 
 bounty. O bountiful genius ! though much I am fortified by 
 religious dictates, yet doth my heart pant after Ahud, whom I 
 have lost, and after Kalasrade, whom I left in a tyrant's 
 power." " As to Ahud," answered the genius Adiram, " his 
 fate cannot yet be unrolled to thy sight ; and Kalasrade still 
 suffers for her contempt of that life which Allah had com- 
 manded her to preserve. Ah, poor Kalasrade ! the bird of 
 Adiram can no longer comfort thee, and the oath of a lawless 
 tyrant is as a flaxen band around the flaming pile ! But haste 
 and pursue the Waters of Oblivion, for many dangers yet sur- 
 round thee ; yet thou hast well learned to be most aware when 
 perils are unseen. Thy way is onward to the flaming moun- 
 tain, in which the waters are hidden." 
 
 Having passed a morass, he arrived at a river which ran 
 among the rocks, whose source sprung from a wild cataract, 
 which came foaming with a terrible noise in two divided tor- 
 rents down the rocks. Here the astonished Sadak stood look- 
 ing on the frightful waterfall in wild amaze; and, stunned with 
 the rapid dashing of the torrent, for some time paused, unable 
 to pursue his course, or retreat from the dizzy scene. There 
 appeared no way to pursue his journey, unless he dare venture 
 up the craggy precipice which broke the two cataracts, and 
 divided the roaring currents from each other by its bed of 
 'stone. Toward this middle rock the brave warrior crept, his 
 
SADAK AND KALASRADE. 
 
 161 
 
 nature trembling at the bold determinations of his heart ; and 
 although his eyes swam,, and his imagination tottered, yet the 
 steady Sadak seized on the rock, and arose by degrees on its 
 prominent fragments. The foam and the surf of the neigh- 
 bouring torrents washed him as he arose, and the noise of the 
 impetuous currents overpowered him, so that he heard not 
 the fall of several rocky fragments, which came tumbling on 
 every side. 
 
 After this fatigue, and scrambling upward, he reached a 
 broad, flat, prominent rock, whereon he laid his wearied body, 
 and looked downward on the waves below. Ten thousand 
 colours played in his eyes, and the rock whereon he lay ex- 
 tended, seemed, in his fancy, to break, and, falling with him, 
 to tumble headlong through the foaming waves. Fear seized 
 his body, though fortitude possessed his soul ; and nature, 
 tired of the struggle, kindly stole him from himself, and con- 
 signed him to oblivion. For a few minutes he lay entranced ; 
 and as he waked, forgetful of his situation, he rolled over to 
 the brink of the rock, and was falling downward, when he 
 clasped the rock, and secured himself with his hands. Having 
 gained his former situation by long struggle and labour, he 
 ventured not to look down from the precipice he had escaped ; 
 but, turning his eyes upward, he perceived he had yet a third 
 part of the rock to climb ere he could reach the top. His 
 perseverance in a short time prevailed, and Sadak stood on 
 the utmost summit of the rock, from whence he looked over 
 an extended lake to the burning mountain : he marched 
 onward, the hot soil scorching his feet, and the sulphureous 
 stenches blasting his lungs, till he perceived a huge cave, 
 through which ran a rivulet of black water. Sadak, doubting 
 not but this was the Water of Oblivion, ran eagerly into the * 
 cave and saw at the extremity of it a fair maiden sitting in a 
 
 M 
 
162 
 
 LIGHT FROM THE EAST. 
 
 musing posture. At the sight of Sadak, the maiden arose and 
 welcomed his arrival. — " Noble stranger/' said she, " it is now 
 two hundred hegiras since any one has been able to reach this 
 scene of horrors ; but to you it is given to taste the Waters of 
 Oblivion, and to enjoy the blessings of our immortal race." 
 
 As the virgin uttered these words with a pleasing aspect, 
 she drew of the fountain in a goblet of gold, and presented 
 the dark waters to Sadak, who, turning the goblet from him 
 with an easy motion, thus replied to the solicitations of the 
 blooming virgin : — " Fair keeper of these enchanting fountains ! 
 excuse my refusal ; it is not for myself that I seek the foun- 
 tain of oblivion : bound by a fatal oath, I come a miserable 
 exile from the Othman throne, to seek a death more cruel by 
 succeeding, than others have found who failed of success." 
 
 u Then drink of this refreshing stream," answered the vir- 
 gin, " and forget the curses which Amurath hath heaped upon 
 thy head : here drown thy former anxious thoughts, and rise, 
 refreshed in the lethargic stream, to untried scenes of pleasure 
 and amusement. Thy sins, thy follies, and thy pains forgot, 
 here take a blessed renewal of thy life ; the past be blotted 
 from thy careworn breast, the future all in prospect, all untried, 
 then shall the golden dream of hope spring forth afresh, and 
 the gay vision of unbounded joy again dance on thy sprightly 
 fancy ; wealth, power, and beauty, rich in possessions, emi- 
 nent in fame, in ecstasy dissolved, shall all by turns solicit 
 thy divided mind, while not a thought of what thou once hast 
 felt shall e'er again molest thy troubled brain." 
 
 * Such pleasures," answered Sadak sternly, " may captivate 
 the wretch whose conscience wishes all the past one universal 
 blot ; but Sadak has not lived to wish the thread of life un- 
 ravelled and destroyed. No, virgin, though great are the ills 
 I feel, yet this, in every ill, supports my mind — I have no 
 
SAUAK. 
 
 " She drew of-the fountain iu a goblet of gold, and presented the dark waters to Sadak." 
 
— 7T- 
 
 Til WIRY 
 OF THE 
 
 .iivasin CF Kl]g& 
 
SADAK AND KALASKADE. 
 
 163 
 
 sought, nor yet deserved, the evils that I suffer." " For the 
 weak children of man to boast/' replied the virgin, " argues 
 neither sense nor merit j conceited, vain, and ignorant, their 
 path of life is stained with error, and perplexed with doubt ; 
 purblind they grope along the bright meridian day, and every 
 action past they wish undone." 
 
 " It is not presuming on a well-spent life, that I refuse your 
 boon," replied Sadak to the virgin of the cave ; tc but, con- 
 scious of no studied ill, I thank my prophet for his mercies 
 past, and value the great Allah's former gifts too largely to 
 desire oblivion may prevent my future thanks: whatever 
 afflictions are endured were meant as blessings to increase my 
 faith ; these surely to forget were base ingratitude. Whatever 
 are the blessings that Sadak has received, these yet reflect 
 new comforts on my soul, and these to lose were little to de- 
 serve the future mercies of my God. No, virgin; one mo- 
 ment's recollection of Kalasrade's truth is more delightful far 
 to me than years of pleasure with a second flame. Though 
 dead, shall I forget thee, Codan ! whose pious cares so lately 
 honoured good Mepiki's grave ? Though lost to me, yet neve* 
 from my mind shall Ahud's righteous image pass !" 
 
 "Noble Sadak," answered the virgin, "thou alone art 
 worthy to succeed, who hast learned rightly to value the gift 
 thou hast obtained : take, then, this goblet, and carry to thy 
 prince these Waters of Oblivion ; and fear not the toils of re- 
 turning, for as soon as thou art in possession of the goblet 
 thou shalt stand at the gates of the seraglio of Amurath." 
 u But, gentle maiden," replied Sadak, " ere I receive from thy 
 hands this inestimable gift, inform me, I beseech thee, where 
 is the duteous Ahud, the glory of my years ?" " Ahud," an- 
 swered she, " is hidden from my knowledge : but let this con- 
 tent thee, that thou alone hast prevailed, and been able to 
 bear from hence the Waters of Oblivion." m 2 
 
164 
 
 LIGHT FROM THE EAST. 
 
 Thus speaking, the maiden gave into Sadak's hand the 
 golden goblet, and as he received it, the cave and fountain 
 rolled off in a dark cloud from before him, and Sadak found 
 himself at the gates of Amurath/ s palace. The janissaries, 
 who recollected the features of their long-lost general, shouted 
 for joy, and the populace in tumults proclaimed the arrival of 
 Sadak. 
 
 As Sadak entered the royal apartment with the goblet in 
 his hand, he perceived Amurath sitting with a disturbed visage 
 on the embroidered sofa. Sadak thrice prostrated himself 
 before him: and Amurath, with a frown, commanded his 
 slaves and attendants to retire. " What, slave V said the 
 royal tyrant as Sadak arose, "hast thou succeeded in thy em- 
 ployment, or dost thou bring thy forfeit head a tribute to thy 
 prince?" "Lord of the Othman race!" answered Sadak, 
 " the great Allah, whom I serve, hath blessed the cause of 
 thy slave, and Sadak is returned with honour and success to 
 the Othman court." " Curse on thy honours, vain slave !" 
 replied Amurath hastily ; " and cursed be the pride of thy 
 heart ! Thinkest thou that thou shalt triumph over thy 
 prince? or that Allah hath reserved for thee joys superior to 
 those which Amurath possesses ?" " The blessings of Allah," 
 answered Sadak, " have refreshed my heart, and the bounteous 
 smile of my all-gracious Maker hath enlightened my soul in 
 every horror I have passed." " Blasphemous slave !" said 
 Amurath, rising in haste, " thou liest ! Allah meant not to 
 bless thee beyond thy lord, but has buoyed up thy heart with 
 treacherous hope, to make thy disappointment greater. Yes, 
 slave, thy master has resumed himself, destroyed thy children, 
 and blessed Kalasrade with these outstretched arms, that thou 
 mightest curse thy God and die." " Hast thou prevailed, thou 
 tyrant?" said Sadak, trembling: "then welcome the black 
 contents of this infernal bowl, for now oblivion is all I ask !" 
 
SADAK AND KALASEADE. 
 
 165 
 
 " Slaves !" said Amurath, clapping his hands, " seize from 
 the frantic slave that precious bowl ! it were luxury too great 
 for him to taste and to forget. The Waters of Oblivion are 
 designed for mine and Kalasrade's peace : wherefore, bring 
 me, slaves ! the refreshing goblet ; for my gloomy soul pants 
 for oblivion. Slaves, give me the goblet ! Now, welcome 
 peace ! and, conscience, thou base intruder, a long farewell 
 to all thy wretched admonitions ! But, slaves, remember ere 
 I drink this, Sadak dies." 
 
 As Amurath spoke thus, he received the golden goblet from 
 the hands of the slaves. " See, Sadak/ 5 said he, " how greatly 
 Amurath doth honour to his slave : I drink this bowl to be 
 like thee ; and fair Kalasrade, having tasted its sweet contents, 
 shall look on Amurath and think him Sadak." The greedy 
 monarch then raised the goblet to his lips, and drank of the 
 dark liquor it contained, which quickly spread its fatal influ- 
 ence through his veins ; and the disappointed Amurath too late 
 perceived that with oblivion death goes hand in hand. Sadak, 
 surprised, started at the unexpected effects of the deadly 
 goblet ; and the slaves of Amurath, who ran to his assistance 
 as he fell, finding their endeavours to recover him ineffectual, 
 now fell trembling at the feet of Sadak, whom they imagined 
 the janissaries would doubtless place on the Othman throne. 
 
 " Lord of our lives!" said they, " Allah hath justly punished 
 the wretched Amurath for his broken vows, and thy slaves 
 wait thy commands to cast his wretched carcass forth a prey 
 to the fowls of the air." "Wretches !" said Sadak sternly to 
 them, " I seek not the power you are so ready to bestow : let 
 the faithful Doubor be called, that the subjects of the Othman 
 throne may be acquainted with their loss." " Heir to the 
 Othman glory !" answered the slaves, " Doubor, by Amurath's 
 command, is gone to Iznimid on the affairs of state," " Then," 
 
166 
 
 LIGHT FROM THE EAST. 
 
 said Sadak, "carry forth the body of our departed Sultan, 
 and show his pale limbs to the brave soldiers of the court ; to 
 whom, since no successor by inheritance or will is left, the 
 choice of a new monarch falls." 
 
 The report of Sadak' s arrival, and the death of Amurath, 
 was now spread through every part of the seraglio ; and while 
 part of the officers hastened to acknowledge Sadak for their 
 sultan, others found out the melancholy Kalasrade, and de- 
 clared every circumstance of the joyful news to the mourning 
 fair one. " Is he returned ?" said the transported Kalasrade ; 
 "is Sadak, my lord, unnumbered with the dead? then are 
 my past sorrows like the vision of the night, and I again shall 
 rise to a joyful day of constancy and love ! But lead me in- 
 stantly," continued she, " to his beloved presence, that I may 
 bless his conquering arms with love, and clasp him once again 
 within these fond encircling arms." So saying she hastened 
 to the apartment where Sadak stood with his surrounding 
 guards ; and Hying in transports, she fell at his feet, and bathed 
 his sandals with her overflowing tears. 
 
 Sadak saw her approach with a mixed countenance of love 
 and terror : and his soul, divided by affection and resentment, 
 knew not how to supply his tongue with a proper utterance : 
 but, perceiving her at his feet, the tender husband stooped to 
 the earth, and bowed himself before her. "What, noble 
 partner of my thoughts," said Kalasrade in amaze, " art thou 
 dumb with joy? Oh, foolish wretch !" continued she, "why 
 came I so suddenly into the presence of my beloved ? My 
 loved, my honoured Sadak ! behold thy tender wife, and bless 
 me with one look of love ! Alas, guards !" said she, turning 
 to the eunuchs, as she perceived Sadak still immoveable, with 
 his face to the earth, " surely the death of Amurath hath not 
 seized on Sadak, my beloved hath not drank of the pernicious 
 
SADAK AND KALASRADE. 
 
 167 
 
 goblet ?" u Oh that I had drank thereof," said Sadak, groan- 
 ing, " when I stood before the virgin of the fountain of obli- 
 vion V* " Speakest thou, my beloved/' said the affrighted 
 Kalasrade— " speakest thou, my beloved, and not to me ? Oh ! 
 oh ! am I changed, my beloved ! or — art thou not Sadak V 
 The tender Kalasrade shrieked at these words, and fell into 
 the arms of her attendants. 
 
 At the shriek of Kalasrade, Sadak arose in wild haste, and 
 clasped her in his arms. The constant Sadak saw the suffer- 
 ings of his beloved, and his conscience checked him for increas- 
 ing the distresses of his injured wife. " Forgive," said he, 
 running to her — " forgive, O virtuous Kalasrade ! the cruelties 
 of thy Sadak : thou earnest seeking ease and consolation from 
 thy lord, and I have doubled the curses of Amurath upon thy 
 much-suffering heart." " One word, though but one echo, of 
 my Sadak' s love," answered the afflicted fair one, u blots all re- 
 sentment from Kalasrade' s heart." u Whatever is past, though 
 grating to my soul, thine were the keenest pangs/' said Sadak 
 in return : " but to hold converse on a public stage, where love 
 or where misfortune is the theme, but ill befits the tender suf- 
 ferers ; wherefore retire, my best Kalasrade ! and when the 
 royal janissaries have heard my tale, I will come and weep 
 with thee in mutual wretchedness." The fair Kalasrade bowed 
 at her lord's commands, and left Sadak with the surrounding 
 nobles. 
 
 Sadak, having given audience to the officers of the army, the 
 viziers, and the bashaws of the Othman court, declined their 
 proffered honours, but the voice of the multitude prevailed, 
 and he was constrained to bear the weight of empire 
 on his brow. The shouts of the faithful rent the air 
 with notes of triumph when Sadak yielded to his peoples' 
 supplication. In the midst of their clamour a messenger ar- 
 
168 
 
 LIGHT FROM THE EAST. 
 
 rived in the seraglio, and declared the approach of Doubor 
 from Iznimid. A gleam of comfort shot through Sadak's 
 soul as he heard the name of Doubor pronounced ; and he 
 sent his viziers to welcome his arrival, and bring him into 
 the presence of his friend. The faithful Doubor soon arrived, 
 and, having learnt from his friends the wondrous change, fell 
 prostrate at the feet of Sadak. " Since he whom Doubor long 
 revered is dead," said the faithful eunuch, " Doubor rejoices 
 at the public choice of Sadak's virtue to succeed him. Yet 
 forgive me, royal master ! if Doubor plays the courtier but 
 awkwardly before thee ; born for his service, I lived in the 
 smiles of Amurath my lord, and, let these tears bear witness 
 for me, I cannot e'er forget so great a master." " Doubor," 
 said Sadak, sternly, " thou art not the only afflicted soul that 
 Amurath hath left behind him ; deep are his curses stricken on 
 Kalasrade's heart, and woes unutterable are Sadak' s portion." 
 " Surely, my lord," returned Doubor, the chief of the eunuchs, 
 u the mighty Amurath did never presume to break his oath ?" 
 " Yes, he broke it, slave ! nay, more, and triumphed in his sin !" 
 said Sadak, fiercely ; ( * and thou, I fear, hast borne a part in all 
 his vengefulmalice. All other evil I with patience bore, but 
 this extremest cruelty loads my distracted thought past human 
 sufferance." a My lord," answered Doubor, u permit me to 
 lead thee to fair Kalasrade's apartment : I yet must hope 
 some mystery unravelled hurts your peace." " To sooth with 
 words ambiguous, when misfortunes past can never be redeemed, 
 is a slave's province," said Sadak ; "but Sadak has a soul not 
 to be lulled by women's taleg ; for know, tame wretch ! I have 
 already seen Kalasrade, and viewed the graceful ruins of my 
 once-loved wife. O prophet ! prophet ! where was thy all- 
 seeing eye, when to unhallowed lust thou gavest up the purest 
 of her sex ! " * Noble and royal Sadak !" answered Doubor, 
 
SADAK AND KALASRADE. 
 
 169 
 
 prostrate on the earth, " I beseech you to consider what mighty 
 ills you heap on fair Kalasrade, if unheard you cast her from 
 your presence, and accuse our prophet, whose boundless 
 mercy, like the mountains, shades, preserves, and comforts 
 every faithful mind." " Doubor," replied Sadak, " thou wast 
 ever to God and man an acceptable slave, and duly temperest 
 submission to thy prince with faithfulness to Allah. I yield, 
 good Doubor : lead the way to dear Kalasrade' s apartments, 
 and Allah grant success attend our search !" 
 
 The chief of the eunuchs, preceding the trembling Sadak, 
 led him to those apartments of the seraglio where he had been 
 formerly seized by the guards of Amurath ; and commanding 
 the doors to be flung open, Sadak discovered Kalasrade sitting 
 on the sofa, with her surrounding attendants. At sight of 
 Sadak, the beauteous sultana arose with wild distracted looks ; 
 and, turning to her slaves, u Who is this," said she, (t that 
 basely apes the majesty of Othman's prince? Whoe'er thou 
 art, bold slave;" continued she, "depart; or, by my beauties, 
 the god-like Amurath shall sacrifice thee to our mutual loves !" 
 " Oh, prophet of the just !" said Sadak, hastening to her, 
 "what means this wondrous change? "lis Sadak, my be- 
 loved ! Sadak, who comes to be convinced thou never hast sub- 
 mitted to base Amurath' s love." u Submitted, wretch !" said 
 Kalasrade, with a haughty frown, " dost thou, then, call the 
 royal presence of the love-bringing Amurath an evil ? On 
 my soul, to me no joy was ever equal to his fond embrace, 
 when, with reluctant struggles, I increased his love. But 
 thou, rude slave, forbear ! nor with unhallowed touch defile 
 that form which e'er has served to bless thy royal master's 
 heart !" 
 
 "Just, righteous God!" said Sadak, falling back, "what 
 are these sounds that rack my jealous ears ? Have I, then, 
 
170 
 
 LIGHT FROM THE EAST. 
 
 lived to hear Kalasrade prize a tyrant, and despise her lord ? 
 No, it cannot be ! I see wild passion rolls her eye, and mad- 
 ness has possessed her brain : borne down by former evils, and 
 depressed by anxious cares, the unexpected change seized too 
 quickly on her soul, and the transported fair-one ran to me 
 ere that her mind was calmed by reason or religion. In such 
 a state thou earnest, sweet Kalasrade, to thy Sadak' s arms ; 
 and when thy fluttering heart with hasty impulse demanded 
 comfort, I gave thee base suspicion, and with rude hand re- 
 pelled thy tender love ; as not contented with thy sufferings 
 past, in my first royal act I played the tyrant on my wife, and 
 cursed thee more than Amurath had done. But, righteous 
 prophet, thou hast well repaid my base ingratitude ! Blind 
 as the dark mole, I dared accuse thy wondrous sight ; and, in 
 the puny balance which my ignorant will held out, presump- 
 tuous weighed the mercies of my God \" 
 
 The pious words of Sadak were attended with unusual 
 omens : from the left the vivid lightning flashed, the palace 
 shook, and a thick cloud filled the apartment where Sadak 
 stood ; out of the midst of which came forward the stately 
 Adiram, and thus addressed the consort of Kalasrade : — 
 
 " Noble Sadak! the trials of your fortitude are now finished, 
 and Adiram is the joyous messenger of your future peace. The 
 beauteous female who stands before you is not the real Kalas- 
 rade, as you will perceive when she shall restore to Doubor 
 the enchanted ring. After your departure from the seraglio, 
 in search of the Waters of Oblivion, I perceived that the obli- 
 gations of an oath could not bind the man that was influenced 
 by revenge, and unmoved by the tender calls of humanity : I 
 therefore sent, by my little winged messenger, an enchanted 
 ring to Doubor, declaring its virtues, and bidding him use it 
 when Kalasrade' s distress should most require its assistance. 
 
SADAK AND KALASRADE. 
 
 171 
 
 The friendly Doubor had in vain employed both artifice and 
 persuasion to prevent his master from yielding to his passions : 
 every contrivance proved abortive, and Amurath was deter- 
 mined to force Kalasrade to his will. 
 
 "In this distress I sent the enchanted ring to Doubor, 
 commanding him to put it on the finger of one of the ladies 
 of the seraglio, who should thereby be enabled to personate 
 Kalasrade, and deceive the sultan. Doubor, overjoyed, carried 
 it to the fair and haughty Zurac, who had long pined unno- 
 ticed in the walls of the seraglio. Zurac tenderly loved Amu- 
 rath, but her lord had never returned her affections. c Zurac/ 
 said Doubor to the fair princess, ' you are well acquainted 
 with Amurath/ s passion ; every beauty of the seraglio is ne- 
 glected, and Kalasrade alone possesses the heart of Amurath. 
 Say then, fair-one, should Doubor give Zurac the powers of 
 pleasing the mighty Amurath — if Doubor should make him 
 neglect Kalasrade, and seek only thee — what reward should 
 the chief of the eunuchs meet at thy hands V ' He should 
 be/ answered Zurac, ' as the clear fountain to the desert, or 
 as pardon to the wretch condemned/ e Take, therefore/ 
 answered Doubor, ' this ring ; and, while you wear it, your 
 speech and person shall be as the speech and the person of 
 the favourite Kalasrade : but beware lest your tongue betray 
 the deception ; and be cautious, and seemingly reluctant, that 
 the change of behaviour awaken not in Amurath any suspi- 
 cions concerning you/ 
 
 u Zurac readily yielded to the proposals of Doubor, and the 
 eunuch secretly removed Kalasrade from these apartments, 
 and brought Zurac in her stead ; but the monarch, fearful 
 that Doubor would seek to prevent his desires, sent the faith- 
 ful eunuch to Iznimid, and the next day commanded the false 
 Kalasrade to yield to his wishes. Zurac, happy that Amurath 
 
172 
 
 LIGHT FROM THE EAST. 
 
 should so soon seek after her, made a faint resistance . 
 and the passionate monarch thus was deceived the day 
 before you arrived from the fountain of oblivion. Though 
 born to indulge his passions without controul from any human 
 power, yet was Amurath himself shocked at their effects, 
 and he had repented of his folly when you arrived : but the 
 submissive resignation of Sadak, and his superior virtue, stung 
 the soul of the faithless monarch ; and, yielding to revenge, 
 he poured his malice on your heart ; for which the vengeance 
 of Allah was levelled at his head, and he was suffered to 
 drink down the deadly potion of oblivion. As soon as Amu- 
 rath was dead, I appeared to Doubor, who was travelling 
 toward Constantinople, and I commanded him not to take the 
 ring from Zurac, or to reveal the secret to any one, till he 
 should see me again. 
 
 u And now, Doubor," continued the genius, " be you the 
 messenger of these happy tidings to Kalasrade, and prepare 
 her heart to receive her lord; and acquaint her also with the 
 safety of her children, whom Amurath commanded thee to 
 destroy, but whom thou secretly hast preserved, having stained 
 thy innocent hands with the blood of a kid. And, that no 
 consideration may damp your joys, know that Ahud is living, 
 whose failure on the burning island was the consequence of 
 his filial piety. Having passed the whirlpool, and ascended 
 the rocks, he came to the fruitful plain; and, overjoyed at the 
 sight of the fruits that grew thereon, the duteous youth 
 plucked several, and, folding them in his garments, he des- 
 cended down the rocks, resolving not to taste them till he had 
 carried them to Sadak his father : but as, through his haste 
 to relieve the fainting Sadak, he neglected to thank Allah for 
 the gift, the evil genii claimed a power over him 5 and the 
 cause was debated between our race and the impious genii 
 
SADAK AND KALASKADE. 
 
 173 
 
 before the footstool of Mohammed. Long were the contests 
 of each, and every argument was used which either mercy or 
 malice could suggest ; till at length Mohammed determined 
 that the youth should neither succeed nor be condemned, but 
 that he should be conveyed to the ship of Gehari, which was 
 sailing toward the Othman empire. He therefore shall, if 
 Allah permit, return within the space of a year to his parents* 
 arms ; and, in compassion to the race of the faithful, he shall 
 not ascend to the enjoyments of his brother Codan, till, after 
 thy death, he hath swayed with fame and glory, the Othman 
 sceptre." 
 
 Thus spoke the genius Adiram ; and, retiring from the dark 
 cloud, she left the brave Sadak in the royal seraglio, who, 
 after he had assured the fair Zurac that she should enjoy the 
 honours of Amurath's sultana, hastened to meet his beloved. 
 
 Doubor, who, in obedience to Adiram, had imparted the 
 glad message to Kalasrade, was presenting her five children 
 to the happy fair-one, when Sadak entered the apartment. 
 The sight of his long-lost children filled the happy father with 
 the liveliest transports, and the honour of his Kalasrade, so 
 happily restored to him, gave new graces to his beauteous 
 consort. They met with tears of joy, running like fountains 
 from their pious eyes ; and, while in silent rapture they hung 
 entwined in each other's arms, their beauteous children 
 kneeled around, and bathed their robes with streams ol 
 tears. 
 
 Conscious that passion had formerly transported them be- 
 yond the bounds of reason, they both in secret prayed for 
 Allah's grace to moderate their joy ; and, having borne the 
 trials of adversity, they now strove to obey the sober dictates 
 of calmness and humility. And first, kneeling in the midst 
 of their duteous family, with hearts and eyes uplifted to the 
 
174 
 
 LIGHT FROM THE EAST. 
 
 throne of Heaven, they poured forth their pious praises for 
 their Maker's mercies ; then, in modest tenderness, indulged 
 in mutual converse, by turns embracing all their children, 
 and blessing their long-lost offspring ; and with their tears 
 of joy fell some few piteous drops for righteous Codan's loss, 
 and duteous Ahud's absence. 
 
 These happy duties finished, the royal Sadak arose and 
 went toward Doubor the faithful eunuch. " Friend of my 
 bosom, and great instrument of all my joy I" said Sadak, 
 embracing him, " not all the monarch of the Othman throne 
 can do for thee can ever repay thy generous services : happy 
 am I to think that Allah will reward thee with the heartfelt 
 pleasure of an approving conscience ; that, Doubor, shall be 
 thy chief reward : for worldly pleasures, command thy Sadak' s 
 fortune, the wealth of all my empire is at thy disposal." 
 The beauteous Kalasrade and her children followed the ex- 
 ample of Sadak, and all with joy acknowledged Doubor's 
 generous kindness. The good old man, overcome by the 
 affecting scene, in silence lifted up his watery eyes to heaven, 
 then fell at Sadak' s feet, and would have kissed his sandals, 
 but the grateful Sadak raised him up, and seated him beside 
 his amiable Kaksrade. Serenity and mildness succeeded in 
 the affectionate interview, where all were happy in each other, 
 and where all acknowledged the source of their happiness in 
 the bounties of Allah. 
 
 Erivan, where the author has located this story, was once the capital 
 of Persian Armenia, but in 1 828 was ceded to Russia, and included in 
 the government of Georgia. The town is of considerable extent, but 
 contains many gardens ; it is boldly placed on the banks of a river. The 
 
SADAK AND KALASKADE. 
 
 country around has been the scene of many contests, and |in the recent 
 war between the Western Powers and Russia, the inhabitants suffered 
 much distress. The base of Mount Ararat is only about seven miles 
 from the town. The neigbourhood is said to be a delightful country ; 
 the vallies of Armenia are fertile in grain, tobacco, cotton, hemp, and 
 fruit trees. On the banks of the river Araxes are the ruins of many 
 noble cities, which violence and misrule have destroyed. The investiga- 
 tion of Biblical critics have strengthened the opinion long ascertained, 
 that on Mount Ararat the ark rested on the subsidence of the deluge. 
 The Armenians, who have many religious establishments in the neigh- 
 bourhood, regard the mountain with intense veneration. Some of the 
 Armenians believe that it was on the spot where the city of Nakschivan, 
 about three leagues from Ararat, Noah first settled when he left the 
 ark, the name being derived from nak, a ship, and schivan, stopped or 
 settled. Erivan, however, contests this honour with Nakschivan. 
 
 The Bosphorus is that narrow strait which unites the Sea of Marmora 
 with the Black Sea. It is of exceeding beauty, and the shores are lined 
 with splendid buildings, the residences of the wealthy of Constantinople, 
 for its whole length, which is about twenty miles. 
 
VIII. 
 
 ftSSKB, 
 
 ONTENTMENT, the only Happiness on 
 Earth, and the subject of the Story of Hassan, 
 may be considered an enforcement of the Tenth 
 Commandment — " Thou shalt not covet.'' 
 
 This tale is another of Dr. Hawkesworth's 
 productions, and the lesson it seeks to im- 
 part is, that happiness is not always to be 
 found in worldly possessions, but has its 
 habitation in the hearts of the contented. 
 It arises not from the abundance of outw T ard 
 things, which often brings disquiet, but from 
 the inward frame and disposition of the soul, 
 that thankfully enjoys and prudently ac- 
 quiesces in whatever portion is allotted. " Thus," St. Paul declares, that 
 " he coveted no man's silver, or gold, or apparel, but had learned to be 
 content with his own estate.' , There are many advantages that may 
 arise out of what some may consider an undesirable condition of life, 
 such, for instance, as one whose wants call him to labour; here industry 
 and temperance are the best means for preserving the health of both body 
 and mind. Such a man may have but few friends, but undoubtedly 
 he has fewer enemies ; envy and calumny overlook him as one beneath 
 their notice. Now wealth, power, and prosperity, though harmless in 
 themselves, are, to many persons, very pernicious ; they bring with them 
 a long train of troublesome attendants, follies, and cares ; they teach us 
 to forget "the great concern," and they contract a fondness for the 
 allurements of the world, and by raising our passions and weakening our 
 reason, render us unable to bear even common and trifling disappoint- 
 ments. The creed of the Moslem enforces, even as does that of the 
 Christian, the doctrine of contentment and submission to God's providen- 
 tial care ; hence the perfect consistency of Omar's admonition. 
 
OF THE 
 
STORY OF HASSAN. 
 "Son Of Affliction,' said Omar, < who art thou, and what is thy distress?'" 
 
STORY OF HASSAX. 
 
 Prom day to day we humbly own 
 
 The hand that feeds us still ; 
 Give us our bread, and teach to rest 
 
 Contented in Thy will. — R. Blair, 
 
 Omar, the hermit of the mountain Abukabis, which rises 
 on the east of Mecca, and overlooks the city, found one evening 
 a man sitting pensive and alone, within a few paces of his cell. 
 Omar regarded him with attention, and perceived that his 
 looks were wild and haggard, and that his body was feeble and 
 emaciated : the man also seemed to gaze steadfastly on Omar ; 
 but such was the abstraction of his mind that his eye did not 
 immediately take cognizance of its object. In the moment of 
 recollection he started as from a dream, he covered his face in 
 confusion, and bowed himself to the ground. " Son of afflic- 
 tion," said Omar, " who art thou, and what is thy distress ?" 
 
 "My name," replied the stranger, "is Hassan, and I am a 
 native of this city ; the angel of adversity has laid his hand 
 upon me, and the wretch whom thine eye compassionates, thou 
 canst not deliver." " To deliver thee," said Omar, " belongs 
 to him only from whom we should receive with humility both 
 good and evil \ yet hide not thy life from me ; for the burthen 
 which I cannot remove, I may at least enable thee to sus- 
 tain." # 
 
 Hassan fixed his eyes upon the ground, and remained some 
 
 time silent : then fetching a deep sigh, he looked up at the 
 
 hermit, and thus complied with his request. 
 
 4 
 
 N 
 
178 
 
 LIGHT FROM THE EAST. 
 
 u It is now six years since our mighty lord, the Caliph Al- 
 malic, whose memory be blessed, first came privately to wor- 
 ship in the temple of the holy city. The blessings which he 
 petitioned of the prophet as the prophet's vicegerent, he was 
 diligent to dispense ; in the intervals of his devotion, there- 
 fore, he went about the city, relieving distress, and restraining 
 oppression : the widow smiled under his protection, and the 
 weakness of age and infancy was sustained by his bounty. I, 
 who dreaded no evil but sickness, and expected no good be- 
 yond the reward of my labour, was singing at my work, when 
 Almalic entered my dwelling. He looked round with a smile 
 of complacency, perceiving that though it was mean, it was 
 neat, and that though I was poor, I appeared to be content. 
 As his habit was that of a pilgrim, I hastened to receive him 
 with such hospitality as was in my power ; and my cheerful- 
 ness was rather increased than restrained by his presence. 
 After he had accepted some coffee, he asked me many ques- 
 tions ; and though, by my answers, I always endeavoured to 
 excite him to mirth, yet I perceived that he grew thoughtful, 
 and eyed me with a placid but fixed attention. I suspected 
 that he had some knowledge of me, and therefore inquired his 
 country and his name. ' Hassan/ said he, ' I have raised 
 thy curiosity, and it shall be satisfied ; he who now talks with 
 thee is Almalic, the sovereign of the faithful, whose seat is the 
 throne of Medina, and whose commission is from above/ 
 
 " These words struck me dumb with astonishment, though I 
 had some doubt of their truth ; but Almalic, throwing back his 
 garment, discovered the peculiarity of his vest, and put the 
 royal signet upon his finger. I then started up, and was about 
 to prostrate myself before him, but he prevented me. 
 
 u ' Hassan/ said he, ' forbear; thou art greater than I, and 
 from thee I have at once derived humility and wisdom/ I 
 
STORY OF HASSAN. 
 
 279 
 
 answered, c Mock not thy servant, who is but as a worm be- 
 fore thee : life and death are in thy hand, and happiness and 
 misery are the daughters of thy will/ ' Hassan/ he replied, 
 ' I can no otherwise give life or happiness than by not taking 
 them away : thou art thyself beyond the reach of my bounty, 
 and possessed of felicity which I can neither communicate nor 
 obtain. My influence over others fills my bosom with per- 
 petual solicitude and anxiety, and yet my influence over others 
 extends only to their vices, whether I would reward or punish. 
 By the bowstring, I can repress violence and fraud, and by the 
 delegation of powgr I can transfer the insatiable wishes of ava- 
 rice and ambition from one object to another; but with re- 
 spect to virtue, I am impotent : if I could reward it, I would 
 reward it in thee. Thou art content, and hast therefore 
 neither avarice nor ambition : to exalt thee would destroy the 
 simplicity of thy life, and diminish that happiness which I 
 have no power either to increase or to continue/ He then 
 rose up, and commanding me not to disclose his secret, de- 
 parted. 
 
 " As soon as I recovered from the confusion and astonish- 
 ment in which the Caliph left me, I began to regret that my 
 behaviour had intercepted his bounty, and accused that cheer- 
 fulness of folly which was the concomitant of poverty and 
 labour. I now repined at the obscurity of my station, which 
 jny former insensibility had perpetuated : I neglected my 
 labour, because I despised the reward ; I spent the day in idle- 
 ness, forming romantic projects to recover the advantages 
 which I had lost ; and, at night, instead of losing myself in 
 that sweet and refreshing sleep, from which I used to rise with 
 new health, cheerfulness, and vigour, I dreamed of splendid 
 habits and a numerous retinue, of gardens, palaces, eunuchs, 
 and houris, and waked only to regret the illusions that had 
 
 n 2 
 
180 
 
 LIGHT FROM THE EAST. 
 
 vanished. My health was at length impaired by the inquie- 
 tude of my mind : I sold all my moveables for subsistence ; 
 and reserved only a mattress, upon which I sometimes lay 
 from one night to another. 
 
 " In the first moon of the following year, the Caliph came 
 again to Mecca, with the same secrecy, and for the same pur- 
 poses. He was willing once more to see the man whom he 
 considered as deriving felicity from himself. But he found me, 
 not singing at my work, ruddy with health, and vivid with 
 cheerfulness; but pale and dejected, sitting on the ground, 
 and chewing opium, which contributed to substitute the phan- 
 toms of imagination for the realities of greatness. He entered 
 with a kind of joyful impatience in his countenance, which .» 
 the moment he beheld me, was changed to a mixture of won- 
 der and pity. I had often wished for another opportunity to 
 address the Caliph ; yet I was confounded at his presence, and 
 throwing myself at his feet, I laid my hand upon my head, and 
 was speechless. 
 
 " ' Hassan/ said he, ' what canst thou have lost, whose 
 wealth was the labour of thy own hand; and what can 
 have made thee sad, the spring of whose joy was in thy own 
 bosom ? What evil hath befallen thee ? Speak, and, if I can 
 remove it, thou art happy/ I was now encouraged to look 
 up, and I replied, c Let my lord forgive the presumption of 
 his servant, who rather than utter a falsehood would be dumb 
 for ever. I am become wretched by the loss of that which I 
 never possessed : thou hast raised wishes which indeed I am 
 not worthy thou shouldst satisfy : but why should it be thought 
 that he who was happy in obscurity and indigence would not 
 have been rendered more happy by eminence and wealth V 
 
 " When I had finished this speech, Almalic stood some mo- 
 ments in suspense, and I continued prostrate before him. 
 
STORY OF HASSAN. 
 
 181 
 
 u ' Hassan/ said he, ' I perceive, not with indignation, but 
 regret, that I mistook thy character : I now discover avarice 
 and ambition in thy heart which lay torpid only because their 
 objects were too remote to rouse them. I cannot, therefore, 
 invest thee with authority, because I would not subject my 
 people to oppression ; and because I would not be compelled 
 to punish thee for crimes which I first enabled thee to com- 
 mit. But as I have taken from thee that which I cannot re- 
 store, I will at least gratify the wishes that I excited, lest thy 
 heart accuse me of injustice, and thou continue still a stranger 
 to thyself. Arise, therefore, and follow me/ I sprung 
 from the ground as it were with the wings of an eagle ; I kissed 
 the hem of his garment in an ecstacy of gratitude and joy, 
 and when I went out of my house, my heart leaped as if I 
 had escaped from the den of a lion. I followed Almalic to 
 the Caravensera, in which he lodged ; and after he had ful- 
 filled his vows, he took me with him to Medina. He gave 
 me an apartment in the seraglio : I was attended by his own 
 servants, my provisions were sent from his own table, and 
 I received every week a sum from his treasury, which ex- 
 ceeded the most romantic of my expectations. But I soon 
 discovered that no dainty was so tasteful as the food to 
 which labour procured an appetite ; no slumbers so sweet 
 as those which weariness invited, and no time so well en- 
 joyed as that in which diligence is expecting its reward. I 
 remembered these enjoyments with regret ; and while I was 
 sighing in the midst of superfluities, which, though they en- 
 cumbered life, yet I could not give up, they were suddenly 
 taken away. 
 
 u Almalic, in the midst of the glory of his kingdom, and in 
 the full vigour of his life, expired suddenly in the bath ; such, 
 thou knowest, was the destiny which the Almighty had writ- 
 ten upon his head. 
 
182 
 
 LIGHT FROM THE EAST. 
 
 " His son Abubeker, who succeeded to the throne, was in- 
 censed against me by some who regarded me at once with con- 
 tempt and envy ; he suddenly withdrew my pension, and com- 
 manded that I should be expelled the palace ; a command 
 which my enemies executed with so much rigour that within 
 twelve hours I found myself in the streets of Medina, indigent 
 and friendless, exposed to hunger and derision, with all the 
 habits of luxury, and all the sensibility of pride. O ! let not 
 thy heart despise me, thou whom experience has not taught 
 that it is misery to lose that which it is not happiness to pos- 
 sess. O ! that for me, this lesson had not been written on 
 the tablets of Providence ! I have travelled from Medina to 
 Mecca ; but I cannot fly from myself. How different are the 
 states in which I have been placed ! the remembrance of both 
 is bitter ; for the pleasures of neither can return." Hassan 
 having thus ended his story, burst into tears. 
 
 Omar, having waited till this agony was passed, said, " My 
 son, more is yet in thy power than Almalic could give, or 
 Abubeker take away. The lesson of thy life the Prophet has 
 in mercy appointed me to explain. 
 
 " Thou wert content with poverty and labour, only because 
 they were become habitual, and ease and affluence werep]aced 
 beyond thy hope ; for when ease and affluence approached 
 thee thou wast content with labour and poverty no more. 
 That which then became the object was also the bound of thy 
 hope ; and he, whose utmost hope is disappointed, must inevi- 
 tably be wretched. If thy supreme desire had been the de- 
 lights of paradise, and thou hadst believed that by the tenor 
 of thy life these delights had been secured, as more could not 
 have been given thee, thou wouldst not have regretted that less 
 was not offered. The content which was once enjoyed was 
 but the lethargy of the soul ; and the distress which is now 
 suffered, will but quicken it to action. Depart, therefore, and 
 
STOEY OF HASSAN. 
 
 183 
 
 be thankful for all things : put thy trust in him who alone can 
 gratify the wish of reason, and satisfy the soul with good : fix 
 thy hope upon that portion, in comparison of which the world 
 is as a drop in the ocean, and the dust of the balance. Return, 
 my son, to thy labour ; thy food shall again be tasteful, and 
 thy rest shall be sweet : to thy content also will be added sta- 
 bility, when it depends not upon that which is possessed upon 
 earth, but upon that which is expected in heaven." 
 
 Hassan, upon whose mind the angel of instruction impressed 
 the counsel of Omar, hastened to prostrate himself in the 
 temple of the prophet. Peace dawned upon his mind like the 
 radiance of the morning : he returned to his labour with cheer- 
 fulness ; his devotion became fervent and habitual : and the 
 latter days of Hassan were happier than the first. 
 
 The author has placed the location of his narrative at the foot of a 
 mountain near to Mecca. This part of Arabia, which includes the two 
 holy cities, Mecca, the birth-place of Mohammed, and Medina, his sepul- 
 ture, is enclosed by chains of mountains, on which flourish many 
 odoriferous trees and shrubs, the celebrated balsam and gums. As 
 Mecca and Medina are closed against all Mohammedans, and the 
 country around exposed to the ravages of numerous bands of 
 Bedouins, but few Europeans venture to explore it. We do not find 
 a Caliph of the name of Almalic ; Abubeker was the successor of 
 the prophet, and his father-in-law. He lived but two years to enjoy the 
 sovereignty, but in that short time established the dominion of the Arabs 
 over the whole country between the Euphrates and the Mediterranean. 
 Eastern writers praise the almost austere simplicity of his habits and 
 manners, and his entire disregard of the luxuries and even comforts of 
 life ; and so determined was he not to be enriched by his devotion to 
 supreme power, that he was accustomed every Friday to distribute all 
 the surplus of his income to such as he thought worthy of it. May we 
 not say, " Go and do thou likewise." 
 
IX. 
 
 Jjflclummt in tfa <pg of tfo gpons. 
 
 
 
 T is not possible for any other of the vices of 
 mankind to have so deadening an effect on the 
 human heart as avarice — " the last corruption 
 of degenerate man." The prophet Isaiah says 
 — " Woe unto them who join house to house, 
 who lay field to field, until there be no place, 
 that they may be alone in the midst of the 
 world.' ' Never was there a more correct pic- 
 ture of avarice. It is satisfied with no pre- 
 sent possession; it is envious while others 
 possess anything ; it seeks to remove all others, 
 and would be satisfied only if all the earth 
 were in its possession. Nor would the covetous 
 man be satisfied then : he would sit down and weep that there was no- 
 thing more which he could covet. How different this from that content- 
 ment which is produced by religion, the love of justice, and the happi- 
 ness of others. 
 
 This powerful little story is by one whose vigorous pen left records 
 only in the pages of the periodicals of his time. Dr. William Maginn, 
 better known to the world at large as Ensign O'Doherty of Blackwood's 
 Magazine, was possessed of a vast store of reading : his thorough know- 
 ledge of most of the languages and learning of the East enabled him to 
 clothe his descriptions with Oriental imagery. 
 
 The sin of avarice, which is the subject of this tale, is a passion full 
 of paradoxes— a madness full of method ; for although the miser is the most 
 mercenary of all beings, yet he serves the worst master more faithfully 
 than some Christians do the best, and will take nothing for it. He falls 
 down and worships the god of this world, but will have neither its po- 
 verty, its vanities, nor its pleasures for his troubles. He lives poor, to 
 die rich, and is the mere jailor of his house and the turnkey of his wealth. 
 Impoverished by gold, he slaves harder to imprison it in his chest than 
 his brother slave to liberate it from the mine. It is a vice of old age, for in 
 youth its counterpart is covetousness — the vice of the young being a desire 
 of obtaining, without labour, any of the world's goods, whilst that of the old 
 is greediness for money. 
 
JOCHONAN IN THE CITY OF THE DEMONS. 
 
 In days of yore, there lived in the flourishing city of Cairo 
 a Hebrew Rabbi, by name Jochonan, who was the most learned 
 of his nation. His fame went over the East, and the most 
 distant people sent their young men to imbibe wisdom from 
 his lips. He was deeply skilled in the traditions of the fathers, 
 and his word on a disputed point was decisive. He was pious, 
 just, temperate and strict ; but he had one vice — a love of 
 gold had seized upon his heart, and he opened not his hand 
 to the poor. Yet he was wealthy above most, his wisdom 
 being to him the source of riches. The Hebrews of the city 
 were grieved at this blemish on the wisest of their people ; 
 but though the elders of the tribes continued to reverence him 
 for his fame, the women and children of Cairo called him by 
 no other name than that of Rabbi Jochonan the Miser. 
 
 None knew, so well as he, the ceremonies necessary for 
 initiation into the religion of Moses ; and consequently, the 
 exercise of those solemn offices was to him another source of 
 gain. One day, as he walked in the fields about Cairo, con- 
 versing with a youth on the interpretation of the Law, it so 
 happened that the Angel of Death smote the young man 
 suddenly, and he fell dead before the feet of the Rabbi, even 
 while he was yet speaking. When the Rabbi found that the 
 youth was dead, he rent his garments, and glorified the Lord. 
 But his heart was touched, and thoughts of death troubled 
 him in the visions of the night. He felt uneasy when he 
 reflected on his hardness to the poor, and he said, " Blessed 
 
186 
 
 LIGHT FROM THE EAST. 
 
 be the name of the Lord ! The first good thing that I am asked 
 to do in that holy name, will I perform" — but he sighed, for 
 he feared that some one might ask of him a portion of his 
 gold. 
 
 While yet he thought upon these things, there came a loud 
 cry at his gate. 
 
 " Awake, thou sleeper !" said the voice, " awake ! A child 
 is in danger of death, and the mother hath sent me for thee, 
 that thou may'st do thine office." 
 
 H The night is dark and gloomy," said the Rabbi, coming 
 to his casement, " and mine age is great ; are there not 
 younger men than I in Cairo ?" 
 
 u For thee only, Rabbi J ochonan, whom some call the wise, 
 but whom others call Rabbi Jochonan the Miser, was I sent." 
 Here is gold," said he, taking out a purse of sequins — " I 
 want not thy labour for nothing. I adjure thee to come, in 
 the name of the living God." 
 
 So the Rabbi thought upon the vow he had just made, 
 and he groaned in spirit, for the purse sounded heavy. 
 
 " As thou hast adjured me by that name, I go with thee," 
 said he to the man, " but I hope the distance is not far. Put 
 up thy gold." 
 
 u It is nigh at hand," said the stranger, who was a gallant 
 youth, in magnificent attire. Be speedy, for time presses." 
 
 Jochonan arose, dressed himself, and accompanied the 
 stranger, after having carefully locked up all the doors of his 
 house, and deposited his keys in a secret place — at which the 
 stranger smiled. 
 
 c: I never remember," said the Rabbi, " so dark a night. B6 
 thou to me as a guide, for I can hardly see the way." 
 
 u I know it well," replied the stranger with a sigh, * It is a 
 way much frequented, and travelled hourly by many ; lean 
 upon my arm and fear not." 
 
J0CH0NAN IN THE CITY OF THE DEMONS. 187 
 
 They journeyed on ; and though the darkness was great, 
 yet the Rabbi could see when it occasionally brightened that 
 he was in a place strange to him. " I thought/' said he, " I 
 knew all the country for leagues about Cairo, yet I know not 
 where I am. I hope, young man/* said he to his companion, 
 " that thou hast not missed the way ;" and his heart misgave 
 him. 
 
 "Fear not/' returned the stranger. "Your journey is 
 even now done/' and, as he spoke, the feet of the Rabbi 
 slipped from under him, and he rolled down a great height., 
 When he recovered, he found that his companion had fallen 
 also, and stood by his side. 
 
 "Nay, young man," said the Rabbi, "if thus thou sportest 
 with the grey hairs of age, thy days are numbered. Woe 
 unto him who insults the hoary head !" 
 
 The stranger made an excuse, and they journeyed on some 
 little further in silence. The darkness grew less, and the 
 astonished Rabbi, lifting up his eyes, found that they had 
 come to the gates of a city which he had never before seen. 
 Yet he knew all the cities of the land of Egypt, and he had 
 walked but half an hour from his dwelling in Cairo. So he 
 knew not what to think, but followed the man with tremb- 
 ling. 
 
 They soon entered the gates of the city, which was lighted 
 up as if there were a festival in every house. The streets 
 were full of revellers, and nothing but a sound of joy could 
 be heard. But when Jochonan looked upon their faces — they 
 were the faces of men pained within; and he saw, by the 
 marks they bore, that they were Mazikin - *. He was terrified 
 in his soul ; and, by the light of the torches, he looked also 
 
 * Demons. 
 
188 
 
 LIGHT FKOM THE EAST. 
 
 upon the face of his companion, and, behold ! he saw upon 
 him too, the mark that shewed him to be a Demon. The 
 Rabbi feared excessively — almost to fainting ; but he thought 
 it better to be silent ; and sadly he followed his guide, who 
 brought him to a splendid house, in the most magnificent 
 quarter of the city. 
 
 " Enter here," said the Demon to Jochonan, " for this 
 house is mine. The lady and the child are in the upper 
 chamber;" and, accordingly, the sorrowful Rabbi ascended 
 the stair to find them. 
 
 The lady, whose dazzling beauty was shrouded by melan- 
 choly beyond hope, lay in bed ; the child, in rich raiment, 
 slumbered on the lap of the nurse, by her side. 
 
 (C I have brought to thee, light of my eyes !" said the 
 Demon, " Rebecca, beloved of my soul, I have brought thee 
 Rabbi Jochonan the wise, for whom thou didst desire. Let 
 him, then, speedily begin his office ; I shall fetch all things 
 necessary, for he is in haste to depart." 
 
 He smiled bitterly as he said these words, looking at the 
 Rabbi ; and left the room, followed by the nurse. 
 
 When Jochonan and the lady were alone, she turned in the 
 bed towards him, and said : — 
 
 u Unhappy man that thou art ! knowest thou where thou 
 hast been brought ?" 
 
 " I do," said he, with a heavy groan : " I know that I am in a 
 city of the Mazikin." 
 
 " Know then, further," said she, and the tears gushed from 
 eyes brighter than the diamond, "know then, further, that no 
 one is ever brought here, unless he hath sinned before the 
 Lord. What my sin hath been imports not to thee — and I 
 seek not to know thine. But here thou remainest for ever — 
 lost, even as I am lost." And she wept again. 
 
J0CH0NAN IN THE CITY OF THE DEMONS. 189 
 
 The Rabbi dashed his turban on the ground, and tearing 
 his hair, exclaimed : — 
 
 " Woe is me ! Who art thou, woman, that speakest to me 
 thus?" 
 
 " I am a Hebrew woman," said she, €t the daughter of a 
 Doctor of the Laws in the city of Bagdad ; and being brought 
 hither, it matters not how, I am married to a prince among 
 the Mazakin, even him who was sent for thee. And that 
 child, whom thou sawest, is our first-born, and I could not 
 bear the thought that the soul of our innocent babe should 
 perish. I therefore besought my husband to try to bring 
 hither a priest, that the law of Moses (blessed be his me- 
 mory) should be done : and thy fame, which has spread to 
 Bagdad, and lands further towards the rising of the sun, made 
 me think of thee. Now my husband, though great among 
 the Mazikin, is more just than the other Demons, and he 
 loves me, whom he hath ruined, with a love of despair. So 
 he said, that the name of Jochonan the wise was familiar unto 
 him, and that he knew thou wouldst not be able to refuse. 
 What thou hast done, to give him power over thee, is known 
 to thyself." 
 
 " I swear, before Heaven," said the Rabbi, " that I have 
 ever diligently kept the law, and walked stedfastly according 
 to the traditions of our fathers, from the day of my youth 
 upward. I have wronged no man in word or deed, and I have 
 daily worshipped the Lord ; minutely performing all the cere- 
 monies thereto needful." 
 
 " Nay," said the lady, " all this thou mightest have done, 
 and more, and yet be in the power of the Demons. But time 
 passes, for I hear the foot of my husband mounting the stair. 
 There is one chance of ^ thine escape." 
 
 "What is that? O lady of beauty!" said the agonized 
 Rabbi. 
 
190 
 
 LIGHT FROM THE EAST. 
 
 u Eat not, drink not, nor take fee or reward while here, 
 and as long as thou canst do thus, the Mazikin have no 
 power over thee, dead or alive. Have courage, and per- 
 severe." 
 
 As she ceased from speaking, her husband entered the 
 room, followed by the nurse, who bore all things requisite for 
 the ministration of the Rabbi. With a heavy heart he per- 
 formed his duty, and the child was numbered among the 
 faithful. But when, as usual, at the conclusion of the cere- 
 mony, the wine was handed round to be tasted by the child, 
 the mother, and the Rabbi, he refused it, when it came to 
 him, saying : — 
 
 " Spare me, my lord, for I have made a vow that I fast this 
 day ; and I will eat not, neither will I drink." 
 
 " Be it as thou pleasest," said the Demon, " I will not that 
 thou shouldst break thy vow :" and he laughed aloud. 
 
 So the poor Rabbi was taken into a chamber, leading into 
 a garden, where he passed the remainder of the night and 
 the day, weeping, and praying to the Lord that he would 
 deliver him from the city of the Demons. But when the 
 twelfth hour came, and the sun was set, the Prince of the 
 Mazikin came again unto him, and said : — 
 
 " Eat now, I pray thee, for the day of thy vow is past 
 and he set meat before him. 
 
 a Pardon again thy servant, my lord," said J ochonan, ee in 
 this thing. I have another vow for this day also. I pray 
 thee be not angry with thy servant." 
 
 " I am not angry," said the Demon, " be it as thou 
 pleasest, I respect thy vow :" and he laughed louder than 
 before. 
 
 So the Rabbi sat another day in his chamber by the gar- 
 den, weeping and praying. And when the sun had gone be- 
 
JOCHONAN IN THE CITY OF THE DEMONS. 191 
 
 hind the hills, the prince of the Mazikin again stood before 
 him, and said : — 
 
 u Eat now, for thou must be an hungered. It was a sore 
 vow of thine ;" and he offered him daintier meats. 
 
 And Jochonan felt a strong desire to eat, but he prayed 
 inwardly to the Lord, and the temptation passed, and he an- 
 swered : — 
 
 " Excuse thy servant yet a third time, my lord, that I eat 
 not. I have renewed my vow." 
 
 " Be it so then," said the other ; " arise, and follow me." 
 
 The Demon took a torch in his hand, and led the Rabbi 
 through winding passages of his palace, to the door of a lofty 
 chamber, which he opened with a key that he took from a 
 niche in the wall. On entering the room, Jochonan saw that 
 it was of solid silver — floor, ceiling, walls, even to the thresh- 
 old and the door-posts. And the curiously carved roof and 
 borders of the ceiling shone in the torch-light, as if they 
 were fanciful work of frost. In the midst were heaps of 
 silver money, piled up in immense urns of the same metal, 
 even over the brim. 
 
 "Thou hast done me a serviceable act, Rabbi," said the 
 Demon — " take of these what thou pleasest ; aye, were it 
 the whole." 
 
 " I cannot, my lord," said Jochonan. " I was adjured 
 by thee to come hither in the name of God, and in that 
 name I came, not for fee or for reward." 
 
 a Follow me," said the Prince of the Mazikin ; and Jock- 
 onan did so, into an inner chamber. 
 
 It was of gold, as the other was of silver. Its golden roof 
 was supported by pillars and pilasters of gold, resting upon the 
 golden floor. The treasures of the kings of the earth would 
 not purchase one of the four-and-twenty vessels of golden 
 
192 
 
 LIGHT FROM THE EAST. 
 
 coins, which, were disposed in six rows along the room. No 
 wonder ! for they were filled by the constant labours of the 
 Demons of the mine. The heart of Jochonan was moved by 
 avarice, when he saw them shining in yellow light, like the 
 autumnal sun, as they reflected the beams of the torch. But 
 God enabled him to persevere. 
 
 " These are thine," said the Demon ; " one of the vessels 
 which thou beholdest, would make thee the richest of the sons 
 of men— and I give thee them all." 
 
 But Jochonan refused again ; and the Prince of the Mazi- 
 kin opened the door of a third chamber, which was called the 
 Hall of Diamonds. When the Babbi entered, he screamed 
 aloud, and put his hands over his eyes ; for the lustre of the 
 jewels dazzled him, as if he had looked upon the noon-day 
 sun. In vases of agate were heaped diamonds beyond nume- 
 ration, the smallest of which was larger than a pigeon's egg. 
 On alabaster tables lay amethysts, topazes, rubies, beryls, and 
 all other precious stones, wrought by the hands of skilful 
 artists, beyond power of computation. The room was lighted 
 by a carbuncle, which, from the end of the hall, poured its 
 ever-living light, brighter than the rays of noontide, but 
 cooler than the gentle radiance of the dewy moon. This was 
 a sore trial on the Babbi; but he was strengthened from 
 above, and he refused again. 
 
 "Thou knowest me then, I perceive, O Jochonan, son of 
 Ben-David," said the Prince of the Mazikin; "I am a 
 Demon who would tempt thee to destruction. As thou hast 
 withstood so far, I tempt thee no more. Thou hast done a 
 service which, though I value it not, is acceptable in the sight 
 of her whose love is dearer to me than the light of life. Sad 
 has been that love to thee, my Bebecca ! Why should I do 
 that which would make thy cureless grief more grievous ? You 
 
CITY OF DEMONS. 
 
iftunnir 
 
 OF THE 
 
JOCHONAN IN THE CITY OF THE DEMONS. 193 
 
 have yet another chamber to see/' said he to Jochonan, who 
 had closed his eyes, and was praying fervently to the Lord, 
 beating his breast. 
 
 Far different from the other chambers; the one into which 
 the Rabbi was next introduced was a mean and paltry apart- 
 ment, without furniture. On its filthy walls hung innume- 
 rable bunches of rusty keys of all sizes, disposed without 
 order. Among them, to the astonishment of Jochonan, hung 
 the keys of his own house, those which he put to hide when 
 he came on this miserable journey, and he gazed upon them, 
 intently. 
 
 " What dost thou see," said the Demon, " that makes thee 
 look so eagerly ? Can he who has refused siver and gold, and 
 diamonds, be moved by a paltry bunch of rusty iron ?" 
 
 " They are mine own, my lord," said the Rabbi, " them 
 will I take, if they be offered me." 
 
 " Take them, then," said the Demon, putting them into his 
 hand — "thou may'st depart. But, Rabbi, open not thy 
 house only, when thou returnest to Cairo, but thy heart also. 
 That thou didst not open it before was that which gave me 
 power over thee. It was well that thou didst one act of cha- 
 rity in coming with me without reward, for it has been thy 
 salvation. Be no more Rabbi Jochonan the Miser !" 
 
 The Rabbi bowed to the ground, and blessed the Lord for 
 his escape. " But how," said he, " am I to return, for I know 
 not the way ?" 
 
 " Close thine eyes," said the Demon. He did so, and in 
 the space of a moment, heard the voice of the Prince of the 
 Mazikin ordering him to open them again. And behold, 
 when he opened them, he stood in the centre of his own 
 chamber, in his house at Cairo, with the keys in his hand. 
 
 When he recovered from his surprise, and had offered 
 
194 
 
 LIGHT FROM THE EAST. 
 
 thanksgivings to God, he opened his house, and his heart also. 
 He gave alms to the poor, he cheered the heart of the widow, 
 and lightened the destitution of the orphan. His hospitable 
 hoard was open to the stranger, and his purse was at the ser- 
 vice of all who needed to share it. His life was a perpetual 
 act of benevolence ; and the blessings showered upon him by- 
 all, were returned bountifully upon him by the hand of God. 
 
 " But people wondered, and said, " Is not this the man who 
 was called Rabbi J ochonan the miser ? What hath made the 
 change V And it became a saying in Cairo. When it came 
 to the ears of the Rabbi, he called his friends together, and he 
 avowed his former love of gold, and the danger to which it 
 had exposed him, relating all which has been above told, in 
 the hall of the new palace that he built by the side of the 
 river, on the left hand, as thou goest down by the course of 
 the great stream. And wise men, who were scribes, wrote it 
 down from his mouth, for the memory of mankind, that they 
 might profit thereby. And a venerable man, with a beard of 
 snow, who had read it in these books, and at whose feet I 
 sat, that I might learn the wisdom of the old time, told it 
 to me. And I write it in the tongue of England, the merry 
 and the free, on the tenth day of the month Nisan, in the 
 year, according to the lesser computation, five hundred ninety 
 and seven, that thou may'st learn good thereof. If not, the 
 fault be upon thee. 
 
 THE END.