broke into view from a marshy spot of reeds in the prairie, that The Humming Bird wished to indicate to him that, while the meat of the heifer was best worth securing, a feeling of something like chivalry impelled him to make the proposed trial of his horse upon a leader of the herd.

The other white hunters had by this time begun to take a part in the chase. The band of buffaloes was broken up by their different charges, and rushed wildly in every direction. But still, amid all the confusion of the herd, The Humming Bird, though wheeling and turning incessantly, kept closely in the track of the formidable bull he had selected for his quarry. Thrice and again had he bent his bow and drawn the arrow to its head to pierce him, but each time, with true Indian economy in the use of that missive, he had withheld the shaft, in the hope of a more surely vital aim. Again he came back to the same reedy ground from which he had first stirred his proposed victim, and his gallant horse, though as yet by no means wearied, seemed to have his fire somewhat tamed by pressing through the marshy soil. And now the square chase-tool with which he has cloven the cane-brakes brings him side by side with the

clumsy-galloping bison, who, with a final bound, has just escaped from its entanglements. But he too seems to gather fresh vigor from touching the firm soil, and even in that last leap to extricate himself he bends his head low as if now about to become in turn the assailant. That half-turning movement determined the shot of The Humming Bird. Never aim was better taken-never man more skillful twanged a bowstring-never limbs more supple pressed the flanks of rushing courser; and had but the horse still kept his direct and onward motion-had he but swerved from it only a moment sooner-a moment later-had an instant, a breath of time intervened ere he started so with terror-checked and swerved at a new and comparatively remote cause of alarm from the herd that he seemed for the first time to discover rushing toward him on the right-the young Humming Bird had never been hurled like a stone from a catapult upon the deadly horns of that bison. his arrow must have done its work very thoroughly, if it be true that Captain B—, in telling this story of the unfortunate "disunited horseman," always says that he found both hunter and quarry mingling their gore and lying dead on the prairie together.

Yet

THERE roam upon the earth
Two spirits, side by side;
One is a maiden fair and bright,

With blooming cheeks and eyes of light

And step of conscious pride.

The joy her presence brings
To every thing that lives
Declares her name, beloved Health;
More precious far than fame or wealth
The boon her right hand gives.

Near her there glides a form,
With faltering steps and slow,

Her cheeks are pale, and dimmed her eyes,
And from her breast break heavy sighs
That tell of pain and wo.

And by the sunken cheek,

And by the bending frame,

And by the dread and fear which fell At her approach, I knew her well, Disease, her mournful name.

Still beamed from her blue eye

A mild and gentle ray,

Which said "Though stern my mission be,

Yet tender love and charity

Attend me on my way."

Gently she took my hand

And said "I'll be thy guide, Follow upon my clouded way And I will teach thy heart to-day The lesson health denied."

We found a palace home

Whence love and peace had flown,

Where bitter words and bitter strife
Had long since parted husband, wife,
And discord reigned alone.

There, with a noiseless step,
My pale companion stole,
Her fevered hand she gently laid
Upon the husband's brow, and bade
Fiercely the life-blood roll.

A raging fever bowed

His strong and manly form,
The wife bent o'er his couch of pain,
While to her heart flowed back again
Love's tide, unchecked and warm.

Then faithful memory brought
From out the mournful past

Each vow of changeless love through life,
Each blighting word, each bitter strife,
Which chilled that love at last.

Then with a throbbing heart,

With many a deep-felt tear,

Were spoken words whose healing power Could brighten e'en that gloomy hour, When death seemed hov'ring near.

Sickness her work had done,

Her mission had fullfilled,

Then Health approached with balmy breath, Banished the forms of Pain and Death,

The raging fever stilled.

Within the peaceful home

Love's flower bloomed out again; And thus does Sickness often prove A messenger of peace and love

When Health has smiled in vain.

WHEN the mighty Othman, one of the most illustrious of all the successors of Mahomet, swayed the sceptre of the Ottomites, there dwelt in the city of Broussa, the greatest in all Asia Minor, a person called Murad the Wise, who had established a great reputation by studying the Koran, devoting himself to the happiness of all true Mussulmans, and persecuting the Christian dogs without mercy.

Being rich and childless, he devoted a great portion of his wealth to relieving the necessities of the poor, always excepting the Jews, the Christians, and the followers of Ali, for he was an orthodox believer and never failed to inquire into a man's religious opinions before administering to his distresses. Nay, he carried his benevolence so far as to include irrational animals, and created two extensive hospitals, one for cats, another for dogs, which were lodged and fed by thousands in these asylums, to the great annoyance of the neighborhood, which was nightly disturbed by their howling and catterwauling. The consequence was, these animals increased to such a degree under the patronage of Murad, that they became a great nuisance in the city, the dogs barking, howling, and thieving during the day, and the cats mewing, screaming, and hissing by night in a most egregious and disreputable manner.

The city of Broussa is delightfully situated, at the foot of Mount Olympus, where, in the balmy days of Grecian mythology, Jupiter held his court, according to Homer, who was a native of Asia Minor, or of the neighboring Isle of Scios. But even gods have their day; the domes and minarets of the faithful have superseded the altars of Paganism, and Mahomet now reigns supreme where Jupiter once launched his thunderbolts. A thousand crystal springs gush forth from the sides of the mountain, forming the sources of little streams that murmur, and dash, and foam through its recesses, on their way to the city, where they diffuse through the streets a grateful, refreshing coolness, and supply the cleanly Mussulman with water for those frequent ablutions, which, while purifying his body, he imagines, render it more worthy to approach the altar of Allah-the principal spring issues from a deep, shady glen, about half way up the mountain, and supplies a stream sufficent to turn a mill, if such a luxury were known among the Turks, and which is conducted to the city through a channel lined with marble, whence it spreads itself in all directions through lesser conduits. Three hundred stately mosques, whose demes and minarets ascend from groves of mulberry trees, adorn the city and its environs, and it is by the side of these cooling streams and fountains that the indolent, luxurious Mussulman every day indulges in smoking his pipe, while he

| luxuriates in that delightful interregnum of the mind, between sleeping and waking, so dear to the Oriental epicure, so little known to the ever restless soul of the inhabitant of the West, where life is one never ceasing feverish struggle of body or mind from the cradle to the grave.

Murad the Wise was accustomed to spend a portion of his time, seated cross-legged, smoking his long pipe by the side of the deep spring up the mountain, buried in contemplation. At such times, his thoughts would frequently revert to the nature and condition of man, so full of inequalities and contradictions apparently irreconcilable with the wisdom, justice, and mercy of Providence. "Mashallah!" would he say to himself, "why is it that so small a portion of mankind are rolling in wealth, and enjoying all the sweets of luxury, dignities, honor and power, while the mighty mass of the human race may be said only to be preserved from starvation by perpetual labor and perpetual saving? Why is it that a few enjoy every thing without toil, and the many so little, though they work from morning till night? Why are the mind and body of the slave equally subjected to the will of his master, while the master can do as he lists, and go whither he pleases? And why, O! Allah! is it that while one is surfeited with all the delicacies that pamper the senses, thousands, yea, millions, are suffering for lack of the common necessaries of life? Surely, surely the blessings of Providence are unequally distributed. Methinks, were I to create a world, I would order things otherwise, and secure to my fellow creatures, with the exception of the Jews, the Christians, and the detestable followers of Ali, a more equal diffusion of happiness."

Saying, or rather thinking this, Murad the Wise fell into a state of profound abstraction, during which his mind was deeply occupied in the construction of a world in which the enjoyments of life should be equally distributed to all, and had almost completely adjusted its parts to his own satisfaction, when he was suddenly interrupted by the intrusion of an aged, yet majestic figure, with lustrous eyes, and a long white beard sweeping over his bosom, who came and sat down beside him. Murad felt at first somewhat indignant at this interruption, but, looking steadfastly in the face of the old man, he saw something there that at once repressed any expression of discontent. After a momentary silence, the stranger thus addressed him:

"Thou seemest engaged in deep contemplation. What art thou thinking of, Murad?"

"Murad!" exclaimed the other; "that is indeed my name, but how came it known to thee, whom I never saw before?"

"Is not Murad the Wise known to thousands, yea, tens of thousands whom he knows not himself?" answered the old man. "Is he not renowned for his beneficence? Is he not the benefactor of the poor, the assuager of misery, the redresser of wrongs, and the friend not only of the human race, but of the dumb beasts, who have none other but him? Who in all Broussa, nay, who in all Asia Minor is ignorant of the name of Murad the Wise? But may I again ask what thou art thinking of so deeply, that I may share in the contemplations of wisdom?"

The heart of Murad was, unknown to himself, deeply infected with vanity and pride, and he rather sought their gratification in his charities, than that of a pure benevolence. The praises of the venerable old man were delightful to his ear, and, puffed up with vain conceit, he straightway unfolded to him the subject of his thoughts, forgetful he was but a worm, impiously scanning the secret purposes of his Creator. As he proceeded with his plan of a new world, designed to remedy the inequalities of mankind, and produce a universal diffusion of happiness, an almost imperceptible smile, not of scorn but pity, flitted across the pale, seamed face of the stranger, who, at the conclusion of the detail, arose and disappeared, leaving Murad mortified and offended at his abrupt departure.

He had scarcely gone when a slave bearing a water-jar came and set it down, and began weeping and complaining in a doleful voice, accompanied by gestures of sorrow and despair. Murad approached him, and, in words of deep commiseration, asked the cause of his sorrows.

"Am I not a slave?" cried he, in tones of mingled grief and indignation. "Is not my body subjected to the absolute will of another, and my soul bound in chains? Am I not restricted in going and coming, in eating and drinking, in sleeping and waking, in doing and refraining, whatever may be my inclinations or my necessities? Alas! why did Allah give me a will of my own since it is never to be gratified?" "To whom dost thou belong?" asked Murad. "To the son of the Bashaw of Natolias."

"Be comforted. I will purchase thee of thy master, and thou shalt be free to go where thou wilt, and do according to thy pleasure."

The gratified slave fell at his feet and kissed them. Then he filled his jar with water, and tripped away rejoicing in the hope of soon being free. Murad remained on the spot, solacing himself with the contemplation of his own benevolence, and was more than ever pleased with his new world, in which he had entirely abolished slavery. He was soon, however, interrupted by the approach of a youth, who came staggering with faltering steps, his face pale and emaciated, his eyes dim and sunken, and his whole appearance indicating a premature old age, brought on by disease or dissipation. Seating himself at the side of the deep fountain, apparently unconscious of all observation, he groaned aloud, wrung his hands, tore his beard, gnashed his teeth, and at length, starting up in the frenzy of despair, was on the point of casting himself into the spring, when

| Murad seized him suddenly around the waist and arrested his purpose.

rad.

"In the name of the Prophet, forbear!" cried Mu"Remember that none but cowards seek or avoid the angel of death. Tell me what has caused thy despair, and perhaps I may alleviate, if I cannot remove it entirely."

The youth, on being released, turned suddenly around, and, after staring Murad wildly in the face, answered, in tones of bitter agony and desperation—

"Hah! I know thee now. Thou art Murad the Wise, but my condition is past thy cure. I am the victim of my own stubborn will, or rather of destiny, for to restrain myself was beyond my power. Thou knowest the Bashaw of Natolias? I am his only son. As such, I have from my childhood been permitted to do as I would, without any one daring to thwart me, or dispute my pleasure. I have been a tyrant over others, and the slave of my own passions; I have indulged in excesses until pleasure has ceased to please; in the bloom of youth I have become old and decrepit; I am sated, surfeited with enjoyment, and, were it not so, have worn out and destroyed all capacity for receiving pleasure from the gratification of the senses. My days are days of suffering, my nights are nights of bodily torment, aggravated by remorse, and blackened by despair. Oh, Allah! why was I fated to have my own will in every thing, instead of being a slave to that of others? I might then have been happy." Saying this he broke furiously away, and, staggering down the declivity of the mountain, quickly disappeared.

"Unfortunate youth!" exclaimed Murad. "I can alleviate the miseries of yonder slave by setting him free, but I cannot restore the health of thy body, nor the repose of thy mind."

Presently after, there came toward the spring a figure, not dressed but disguised in rags. Here he drank a long, deep draught, after which he exclaimed, "Allah be praised! he giveth me plenty of water, though his creatures deny me bread."

"What aileth thee, my friend?" inquired Murad, in a gentle voice, as he approached him.

"Nothing," replied the poor skeleton, for such he seemed; "nothing but that I am starving and my family keeping me company. We have not tasted food for two days past, and I have summoned my remaining strengh to come hither and bring them a draught of water, to lengthen their sufferings a little while longer. They are too weak to go forth and seek relief, and all I can do is to return and die with them."

"No," cried Murad, whose heart was touched with compassion. "No, thou shalt not die, thou, nor thy wife, nor thy children, until the angel of death shall smite both thee and them in the common course of nature. Take this purse, purchase food, and be comforted, for when this is gone I will give thee more."

The poor man snatched the purse from his hand, and, without staying to return thanks, departed with a speed which his almost fleshless body scarcely promised, for he was strengthened by joy that he could now administer comfort and relief to his starving

exchange situations with that half-starved skeleton who almost ran over me as I was puffing my way hither, and trod on this infernal torment of mine, for which may he be doomed to eat when he is not hungry, drink when he is not dry, be ridden by the

bigger. O, Mahomet! what a curse it is to have more money than we can enjoy, to eat and drink more than we want, and to labor under sufferings we are conscious of having brought on ourselves by our own excesses."

"Don't talk to me about eating and drinking," exclaimed the portly man, in a great passion. "I have had too much of both already. Know, most obdurate and inquisitive stranger, that my father was a great merchant, who made as many voyages as Sinbad, and accumulated money enough to purchase the Paschalic of Aleppo, where he made the people pay ten times as much as it cost him for the privilege of plundering. He left me all his riches, for he escaped the bowstring, as his destiny had doubtless decided, but I, being convinced that two such miracles could never happen in one family, imbibed a distaste for the pursuits of ambition, and determined to seek happiness by employing my wealth in the purchase of other gratifications. I became a glutton and an epicure, which according to time immemorial-such is the lame and imperfect manner in which the human organs are constructed-impaired my digestion, affected my spirits, and finally destroyed my health.

"Finding that eating disagreed with me, I resolved to seek enjoyment in drinking, and, having procured a dispensation from the mufti on the score of my health, I purchased a store of the rich wines of Shirez, Cyprus, and Candia, not forgetting those delicate juices on which the Christian dogs regale themselves in defiance of the law and the Prophet. I cannot comprehend how it was, but the wine, which at first ascended swiftly to my brains and produced a most happy and delightful exhilaration of spirit, ceased at length its genial influence, and, instead of ascending to the brain, seemed to descend into my limbs, until it finally settled in my great toe, where it produces such twinges as only the angels of darkness inflict on their victims. Besides, I am, as you see, swelled to an enormous size by dropsy, for it seems this pestiferous beverage turns to water at last. In short, I have a complication of disorders from which I shall never be free, and am the most wretched of men. I envy every beggar I meet, for there is no

Here the portly man was arrested by a twinge which caused him first to cry out "Mashallah!" then to writhe, and lastly to swear most lustily. He called loudly for Achmet, and Hassan, and Selim, and Ali, who it seems were his slaves, and had followed at a distance in order to convey him home, he having walked up the mountain by the advice of his physician for exercise. They came in great haste, took him up in their arms, and bore him down the declivity of the mountain, while he cuffed their ears, pulled their beards, and knocked off their turbans, all which they bore with the greatest gravity and de

corum.

He was succeeded by a stout, brawny fellow, in the dress of a porter, who came with two immense jars flung across his shoulders, such as are usually carried in Broussa by mules. Placing them on the ground with a gesture of impatience, he cried out, "What a miserable dog am I, to be condemned all day long to carry water for people who sit still, doing nothing but smoke their long pipes, drink Sherbet and coffee, eat sweetmeats and chew opium. O! that I was only in the place of Mustapha Tocat, who is as rich as a Jew, and passes all the livelong day sitting cross-legged, enjoying the pleasure of seeing me and other miserable wretches slaving ourselves to death for the benefit of others. But here he comes, I marvel what has brought him so far from home. I must fill my jars or he will reproach me for a lazy varlet, for it seems he can't bear to see any one idle but himself." With these words the discontented porter took up his jars, and left the fountain at the same moment Mustapha Tocat arrived.

He seemed about the age of fifty, and though apparently hale and vigorous, approached with an air of languor and debility, while his countenance wore an expression of feebleness and care. He sighed deeply as he took his seat near the fountain, which he contemplated as if absorbed in painful reflections. Murad, who might have been called an amateur of human suffering, seeing that he always felt such pleasure in relieving it that he might be said to rejoice at the sight of an object of compassion-Murad felt his curiosity as well as sympathy strongly excited by the new comer, who looked so well in health that he was sure his sufferings must be those of the mind. He has met with some severe misfortune, thought Murad; perhaps he has lost a beloved wife, or darling child, or chosen companion; or he has the weight of guilt upon his soul. I will inquire into the cause of his grief, and administer consolation.

"Stranger," said Murad, approaching him, "thou seemest depressed with sorrow. Can I administer relief? If thou hast lost the friend thou hast loved, the wife of thy bosom, or the child of thy affection, I beseech thee to pour thy griefs into my ear. I am called Murad the Wise, and it is the province of wisdom to suggest topics of consolation to the afflicted. If thou hast suffered losses in trade, or been plundered by the artifices of others, lo! I am rich and can relieve thee.

"Benevolent Murad," answered Mustapha Tocat, "I have neither lost friend, wife, child, nor fortune. I have six of the most obedient wives, sixteen of the most beautiful children in all Asia Minor, and my wealth is sufficient to load forty camels. Yet, alas! I am the most miserable of men. I know not what to do with myself, and time hangs like a millstone about my neck. My days are passed in eating, drinking, sleeping and smoking; and although it might be supposed that such an agreeable variety of occupa tion would make life pass very pleasantly, it is not so with me. My days seem as if they never would end, and my nights almost an eternity. I cannot sleep when I lay down on my couch at night, though scarcely able to keep awake by day. I turn from side to side, and if I lose myself for a few moments, am roused by some terrible dreams, or some strange feeling, or infirmity, which conjures up a legion of fantastic terrors. I am neither well nor sick; and for lack of something to occupy my mind, am always thinking of myself and exaggerating every little pain into a symptom of mortal disease. I have no appetite, yet eat enormously; I do nothing, yet am always tired; I am drowsy but cannot sleep; I am alive without seeming to live; and at this moment envy, from the bottom of my heart, that slave of a porter, who is obliged to labor all day, or starve. O, Allah! would I only knew what to do with myself!" At this moment the muselhim proclaimed the hour from a neighboring minaret, and Mustapha Tocat, as if reminded by the sound, started up briskly, and proceeded toward the city, exclaiming, "Mahomet be praised! it will be time for dinner when I get home."

Murad the Wise remained in a deep and profound perplexity. These opposite examples, each leading to similar results, coming thus in quick succession, threw his mind into a chaos of confusion, from which he was at length extricated by a most happy thought. "I have it!" cried he; it is the opposite extremes of wealth and poverty that produce the great mass of human misery. Were I to create a world I would give competence to all, enormous wealth to none. All would then be contented and happy."

He was roused from the delightful consciousness of having at length solved the great difficulty, by the approach of a person who, like the others, seemed discontented and unhappy. On being, as usual, interrogated by Murad, it appeared that he was very wretched because he was not so rich as Mustapha Tocat, so that he might retire from the toils of business, and set himself down quietly in the enjoyment of ease and splendor.

"Hast thou not all the necessaries and comforts of life?" asked Murad.

"Yes-but I pine for something more-I want-” "What?" said Murad, impatiently.

"I don't know precisely what-but I know very well I want something, and am resolved to procure it, if I slave all the rest of my life. I have no notion that Mustapha Tocat should have twenty slaves, while I have but two."

'Strange," quoth Murad, as the other departed. "How passing strange! I perceive that it is more difficult to do good than I thought. As to this last visiter, he has scattered my theory to the winds. Upon the whole, I doubt the possibility of making all the world happy, unless man were created altogether different from the present race of mortals. I shall in future cease to estimate happiness by external circumstances. I will abandon my world, and be content with that created by Allah.”

"Thou hast decided justly, and maycst hereafter merit the name of Murad the Wise," exclaimed the majestic old man, with the long white beard, who once more stood beside him. "Know, O Murad, that the distributions of Allah are far more just and equal than appears to the blindness of his creatures; and that it is not the stations we occupy, but the virtues we exercise, which create the only real diversities of human happiness. To abuse the blessings of Providence is far worse than never having enjoyed them, and the very beggar in rags is often happier than the monarch on his throne. Know, also, that at least an equal degree of suffering is caused by the unrestrained exercise of the will, as by its being bound in the fetters of slavery; that the miseries occasioned by being stinted in the necessaries of life are not greater than those arising from the abuse of super fluity; and that it is far better for the happiness of the great mass of mankind that they should be tasked with labor, than, like the unfortunate Mustapha Tocat, oppressed with the heaviest of all burthens, idleness. Farewell, Murad! Construct no more worlds, and believe that Allah is both just and merciful."

The old man departed without waiting an answer, and Murad returned a wiser man than he came.

As fades the flower, by Beauty favored most,
Ere Time has scarce its tender growth matured:
As sinks the bark, by many a rude wave tossed,
In anxious sight of the expected shore:

Thus Hope decays, when Expectation high Paints on the breast the image of successAnd hearts, once sanguine, only woes descry, And pine away at last in wretchedness.

A. C. M'C.