her. Scarcely had he obeyed her, and recovering from his confusion, begun to declare the passion he felt, when the loud sound of voices and steps rapidly approaching the Serai was heard. Semid started up, and paralysed by his feelings, gazed alternately at the lady, and at the door, through which he every moment expected the guards to burst with the sentence of death. In the agony of her fear, she clasped his hand so convulsively in hers, as, on his sudden starting from her side, to draw unconsciously the green ring from his finger.

At that moment she uttered a loud cry, and fixed her dark eyes on him, but their expression was-no longer love; in place of the beautiful and matchless Semid, stood before her a venerable man, in appearance like an Imaun; his beard hung down to his girdle, his thin grey locks were scattered over his wrinkled front, and his look was sad and imploring. Just at this instant, Hussein and his attendants burst into the apartment, and searched in vain with bitter imprecations for the traitor Semid; the stranger, whose appearance bespoke him either a Hakim, or physician, or a teacher of religion, was suffered to depart unmolested. He rushed wildly into the streets of the city-they were silent and deserted, for every inhabitant had retired to rest; but there was no rest for the soul of Semid, no calm for the hopeless sorrow and devouring despair which now agitated it; he had cast from him for ever the only gift that would have raised him in the career of life, and when he gazed on his withered form, felt his limbs tremble, and the chill blast wave his white locks, he lifted his staff towards heaven, and cursed the hour when the stranger's steps came to the cottage of his father; and the still more fatal seduction of beauty which now left shame and wretchedness his only portion. He paced incessantly the empty streets, which returned no sound save his own step, till the day dawned, and the numerous population began to appear, and the coffee-houses to fill, when he hurried into the retreats of the gardens. Worn out with fatigue and anguish, he fell fast asleep beneath the trees, but that sleep was worse than waking; the Circassian knelt before him,

her beautiful tresses sweeping the ground, and raised her look to his with love and tenderness unutterable

he clasped her to his bosom, when she suddenly broke from his arms, scorn and indignation flashed from her eyes, and the sounds that rang in his ears as he awoke were her curse and laugh of mockery and contempt. It was mid-day, and many had sought shelter from the sultry heat beneath the orange and citron trees around; sherbet and coffee were supplied by some of the sellers who had arranged their small shops on the spot. Semid gazed wildly on the various groups, for among them he discovered some of his dearest intimates; he would have rushed towards them, to share in their gay converse, to hear from their lips, perhaps, some words of consolation; but his robe was pulled by some children, who gazing up at the venerable and striking features of him they took for an Imaun, besought his blessing. "Blessing from me!" cried Semid; the thought was to his soul more bitter than the Erak tree to the famished traveller "O Allah, who hast quenched the light of my path suddenly, and crushed me by thy doom: had I sunk slowly from youth to decrepitude, the rich pleasures of the world would have passed gently from my grasp: but yesterday, strength and glorious beauty were in this frame, and now it bends into the tomb; the friends of my soul pass me in their pride, and know me not. Who now shall love the wretched Semid?" He bent his steps towards the city and sought an obscure lodging; he shunned the crowded streets and sweet promenades by the river side, and retired to a cottage in the gardens near the city, that shrouded by the mass of cypress and fruit trees amidst which it stood. Here, as solitude became more familiar to him, he began to regard the utter desolation of his condition with less anguish of spirit: at evening, he sometimes frequented the places, where the Imauns, the Muftis, and the learned of the city, associated; among these venerable men, his appearance ensured him respect; in their conversations on the deep things of religion, of nature, and of destiny, his mind became expanded and animated; he devoted his daily solitude

was

to the study of the Koran, of medicine, and other sciences, with such success, that he became in time famous throughout the city; and the learned Imaun was admired, and listened to by all-while others hung on the words that fell from his lips, while the aged were silent, and the gay and thoughtless composed before him, new sources of consolations opened to his spirit, new motives attached him to life. Even then, as he passed by the splendid palaces in which his presence was once courted, and heard the sounds of joy within, and, bitterer than all, than even the despairing doom of the halls of Eblis, when woman's haughty step and look of resistless beauty, that sought him with allurement and delight, were now turned from the decayed Imaun with pity and aversion; he felt misery, that wisdom was unavailing to cure. To fly from these scenes he resolved to quit Damascus for ever; and at sunrise he issued out of the northern gate that conducts to Haleb. All the day he pursued his journey, and at night always found a kind welcome in the Syrian cottages. On the fifth evening the sky shewed a fiery and unusual splendour; and night quickly came down on the scene; ushering in one of those furious tempests which arise so suddenly in the east: the rain fell in torrents, and the deep darkness was only broken by the lightning that flashed on the mountain path of Semid; he paused and listened, but there was no sound, save the loud voice of the blast as it rushed through the rocky passes, and the river foaming over its course beneath; overcome by fatigue, he despaired of reaching any place of shelter, when he suddenly perceived the light of some cottages on the declivity above. He entered one of them with the salutation "Salam Alicum," peace be to you, seldom coldly listened to; the cottagers spread for the venerable wanderer their best mat on the floor, in the midst of which the fire burned bright and cheerfully, and instantly prepared a simple repast, followed by coffee and the chibouque; the neighbours entered to sit with the stranger in token of respect and honour; the young peasants danced to the guitar and pipe, and many a mountain song was sung. Pleased at this scene of gaiety and joy, and by

the kindness and veneration paid him, the spirits of the wanderer were elevated, and he forgot his sorrows for awhile, gazed on the group before him with a delighted eye, and began to converse with so much eloquence ard wisdom that the auditors listened with hushed and eager attention: he talked of the vicissitudes with which Allah visits our path of life, of death, and the scenes of beauty and everlasting bloom reserved for the faithful: when he suddenly paused-the children of the family had clasped his knees, and were gazing on his features-the sound of the torrent dashing over its rocky path had caught his ear-and that group-that hour-all brought back the vivid, the bitter memory of what had been. He clasped his hands, and uttered a cry of anguish-"On such a night," he exclaimed, "came the stranger to my native home, as the Orontes rushed by in its fury; amidst the voice of the storm he prayed for shelter, and his words of melody lured me away. O my father and my mother! whose looks are bent over the desert for the steps of your son; never can you behold him again: were he to approach your door, you would thrust him away as an impostor; and his withered form would be bent in anguish over the scenes of his childhood:" and "mock not my misery with their presence," he said, as he thrust the children from him with a trembling hand. "Let me roam again through the storm and darkness, but see not their eyes bent on mine, hear not their voice calling on me, whose withering heart can never know a father's love-my childless, dark, and desolate path! O! for a mother's tears falling on this hopeless bosom

but it may not be." He bent his head to the earth, and the tears streamed fast down his withered cheek; the villagers gazed with wonder at the stranger's emotion, but it grew late, and they dropped off one after the other to their homes. After a night of disturbed repose, Semid bade an early adieu to these friendly people, and pursued his journey; the day was beautiful, and descending the region of mountains, he entered on a rich and extensive plain, and at last drew near one of those Khans, built in lonely situations for the accommodation of

travellers; it was divided into two stories, the lower for the camels and horses, the upper for the lodging of the merchants; and a fountain rose in the middle of the area below. Here, natives of various nations had already arrived; the Armenian and Persian, the Jew and the Tartar, mingled together in the apartments, which offered no luxuries save the bare walls and floor: each spread his mat, or rich carpet, according to his wealth; lighted his fire, and the coffee being prepared, took his long pipe, and entered into animated conversation, or sat silent, lost in musing. Semid found no want of invitations to partake of their cheer; for long and lonely journeys such as these create benevolent and kindly feelings to each other. The light had not long faded on the plain, ere each traveller, fatigued, stretched himself on his mat to seek repose, and soon after dawn of the ensuing day they had pursued their various and dis

tant routes.

The Imaun took his staff, and again bent his steps towards Haleb; a small river ran through the plain; the tents of some wandering Bedouins were pitched on its banks; their flocks were feeding beside them; and a solitary Arab was seen here and there roamingover the plain, on which his spear, his white turban and cloak, gleamed in the fierce sun-light. As Semid brooded over his sad destiny -he could not help acknowledging the justice of Allah; since, had he not yielded to guilty temptation, and fled in the face of the dying counsel of his benefactor, the wanderer from Mecca, he had remained still happy, loved, and caressed. He gazed with joy afar off on the minarets of Haleb, as the termination of his journey, and night fell ere he entered it. The streets were silent, and he roamed through the populous city to seek a place of refreshment and rest; but as he passed by the door of a splendid palace, he heard sounds from within of distress and agony; he stopped to listen; they became louder and more hopeless, when the door suddenly opened, and many persons rushed wildly out, as if in hurried search of some one. At sight of Semid, they instantly addressed him, and drew him forward into the palace, conjuring him to quicken his steps, and

exert all his skill, for that she who lay expiring was the beloved of their prince, and adored by all who approached her.

They quickly entered the superb saloon from whence issued those cries of distress; the richly painted ceiling of that chamber of luxury was supported by a double row of white marble pillars, to each of which was suspended a silver lamp; vases of orange and trees of perfume, with fountains that gushed through mouths of amber, spread coolness and odours around. But the gaze of all was fixed on a low ottoman, on which reclined helplessly a woman of exquisite beauty, her delicate limbs writhing in agony. On one white arm fell the loose tresses of her raven hair, while the other was laid on the bosom of her young and devoted husband, the Pacha of Haleb. The ravages of the poison, administered by a rival lady, were already visible on her forehead, and wan and beautiful lips; her eyes, commanding even in death, were fixed on the group around, with a look as if she mourned deeply to be thus torn from all she loved, but still scorned her rival's arts; her golden girdle was burst by the convulsive pangs that heaved her bosom-the angel of death had seized her for his own. Every eye was turned on the venerable stranger, who had been mistaken by the attendants for a physician, and who saw instantly that all aid was vain; he took her hand in his to feel the pulse, when his finger pressed, and his glance at the same instant caught the green ring that had been the source of all his misfortunes. The Circassian suddenly raised her eyes on the venerable form before her, knew instantly her once-loved but ruined Semid, and with her last look fixed full on him, she gave a deep sigh, and expired.

When the cries and wailings which filled the saloon had subsided, and all had withdrawn save one or two favourite attendants, Semid bent in anguish over the murdered form of that young and ill-fated lady, and his tears fell fast on those features which even in death were irresistibly lovely ; he then drew the ring from her finger and placed it on his own, and covering his face with his cloak, rushed from the apartment. The moon-light was cast vividly over the silent