THE BALANCE OF LIFE. on each other's carpets. The grand mufti himself could not say whether or not Teman still continued a worshipper of Brahma, but no one had ever heard him call in question the established faith of the empire; and though Fuadeen was a born unbeliever, he always treated both mosque and dervish with becoming deference. Thus far the resemblance went; but as their days increased, a strange dissimilarity grew up in their respective characters. Fuadeen's interest and energy in all things began to flag almost to indolence. The pursuits of his art, the intrigues of the court, and the news of the city, were heard of and passed over with the same easy indifference as matters that no longer concerned him. He lived in his pavilion under a banian, resigned, careless, and occupied with nothing but the smoke of his pipe, the converse of his friends, and at times, but not often, with the books of the sages. Teman, on the contrary, became earnest and inquiring after questions of philosophy and the causes of things. He searched into curious arts and manners of life, going up with the herbgatherers to the mountains, and down into mines with those that sought for metals. He talked with dervishes, consulted magicians, and undertook long journeys to converse with the famous doctors of all creeds-visiting the Brahmins that dwelt by the sources of the Ganges, the last of the magi at Bombay, and the disciples of Confucius in the temples of Cochin. From every pilgrimage he returned increased in books and in knowledge. Many predicted that the Sultan's Shadow would in time become the most learned sage of India; but from them all Teman returned unsatisfied, and care seemed to grow upon him as well as wisdom. There was one subject which puzzled him, in spite of doctors' books and observation; and the question appeared only more complicated the more he inquired. The labor of Teman's political life had been to preserve the balance of power among surrounding princes, that each might be a check on his neighbor, and all subordinate to Shah Jehan. To that end he had negotiated five royal marriages, three divorces, and seven treaties of alliance, offensive and defensive. The soul of the Sultan's Shadow grew dry and weary when looking back on the details of those diplomatic years; but their object had been achieved, the emperor's domination had been established, his fortunes were built up with it, and the surrounding royalties hung in an equipoise so nice, that a circle of revolutions seemed the necessary consequence of the first perturbation. Thus long employed in adjusting the political balance, Teman's attention was turned to weigh 309 ing the affairs of individual life. There disparity met him at every glance. There was nothing like equality, and there seemed no possibility of adjustment. While in one instance the scale was weighed down with an over-abundance of gifts and opportunities, in another it went up with the flutter of rags and the emptiness of restriction. Teman was perplexed about the why and where. fore. The Parsee doctors informed him it was the work of the evil principle, Ahriman, constantly at war with Ormuz, or the good. The dervishes universally contented themselves with declaring it was the decree of Allah, and the Brahmins assured the inquirer that all would be rectified at the tenth incarnation of their god. But this seemed even less satisfactory than the answer of the Cochin Bonzas, who, with much ceremony and in strict confidence, acquainted him that they knew nothing about it. One evening the two fortunate friends met in Fuadeen's pavilion under the banian tree. They were alone, and their discourse flowed on in its wonted channels, as the daylight waned. They talked of much that both had seen and heard in far lands and ancient volumes-of the changes of faith and the vicissitudes of fortune-the teachings of priests and the doctrines of sages. All passed by Fuadeen like a stream on whose banks he had been used to tread, but it troubled the soul of Teman. The perplexity of his years returned upon him, and he said, "Fuadeen, though the places of our birth were far apart, tell me, hast thou never marvelled at the fortunes of men, and the unequal division of those good and evil things over which mortals have neither power nor prescience?"-" It was the wonder of my younger days, but now I know not if there be any difference; for I have seen that in every estate the scales of life hang equal.”—“Oh Fuadeen!" said his friend, "men have named thee well, for truly thy soul is a stranger if it reckon thus. Seest thou not that one is born a slave and another a sultan; that one comes into life the bondman of deficiency, and another the heir of advantage; some inherit gifts without opportunities, some opportunities without gifts; and there is neither hope nor justice!" Thus they disputed for hours, till the time of the evening prayer had long passed, and the moon was high in heaven. Then Fuadeen said, " Men called my birthplace the City of Flowers, and it stood in the land of the old Etruscan race. The Etruscans supplanted no faith and conquered no nations; but built cities, planted corn and vines, and practised the arts of the far unstoried ages; so their history has perished, and their gods are forgotten. In my youth there was a pilgrim, 310 THE BALANCE OF LIFE. known in all the cities of the west as one that carried no relics and said no prayers. The place of our convent had been a Roman town, a Gothic fortress, and a Frankish battle-field. Thither the palmer came, and, it matters not why, but my youth was solitary, and I was his helper in searching out their secrets, with torch and mattock, in the nights of midsummer. He gathered from those ancient graves graven tablet and written scroll, and read long inscriptions sculptured deep in rock where daylight had never shone. That palmer had been a stranger in many nations; much he had learned of the dark unprized sciences, and something he taught me, but chiefly the mystery of the balance by which Pagan soothsayers were wont to question the fates, long after the oracles were silenced and the lament for Pan had been heard at midnight on the Grecian Sea. I cannot tell if the old tales were true; but chroniclers say that the early bishops of Rome, amid their growing power and splendor, were strangely troubled by these men's predictions, for in no matter was their art ever known to fail; and, Teman, it may have answers for thy doubts also." "Show me the mystery, then," cried Teman," for my soul is perplexed;" and the Imperial Shadow supported his request by sundry assurances that no intimation on the subject would ever reach the ear of either dervish or cadi; but Fuadeen only smiled and answered, "Fear comes not among friends. If thou wouldst see and learn, turn thy face to the west and try to recollect all that has most concerned thee.' Teman turned him as directed, and shook the sands of his memory, while Fuadeen clapped his hands; and when his favorite servant appeared, at the summons, he said, "Bring me a brazier of burning charcoal and the box of brass that stands beside my bed." The brazier and the box were brought. Fuadeen opened the latter with a key which he constantly carried, and took from it two small stone pipes, ready filled, and a large vial. He lighted both at the brazier, and, handing one of them, together with the vial, to Teman, said, "Drink half the contents, pour the rest upon the fire, then smoke, and wait for what will happen." Again Teman obeyed, but not without narrowly inspecting the fluid with which the vial was almost filled. It was clear and colorless, and, he thought, resembled aromatic air rather than liquid. When the remainder was poured on the charcoal, there arose first a brilliant flame and then a thick vapor. Fuadeen placed himself by his side, and as the friends smoked together, it gradually gathered into a dense gray cloud against the western wall. From the midst of this cloud there emerged what at first seemed the she came he saw not, and her motions made no HONEST AND HAPPY. Many were the states and fortunes weighed at Teman's request that night, and he learned the true condition of all his friends; but in every case there was somewhat that evened the beam. He saw the learning and reputation of Hassan, the principal dervish, balanced by envy and a boundless desire of domination; while the rustic ease, the pleasant home, and the flourishing family of Hamed the grower of wheat were all but outweighed by continual terrors of sorcerers and the evil eye. There were weights of the outward life and of the world within. Dembo, the chief of the merchants, had his wealth and success equalized by a groundless fear of poverty and loss; while the glory and genius of Mamoon the poet, whom Shah Jehan himself had crowned with jessamine, and the multitude surnamed the Divine Voice, could scarcely poise a bundle cast into the iron scale; and Teman read, that it was composed of regrets for something which his youth had missed, and an ill-tempered, unloving spouse. The silver scale was heaped to overflowing with the beauty, the power, and the imperial love bestowed on the reigning Sultana; but a preponderating packet of caprice and vanity was the next moment dropped into the iron one. Both were again employed with the concerns of Semroud the Ranee of Bouram, who had governed her father's principality through years of honor; but wisdom, prosperity, and praise were almost insufficient to balance a soiled dingy packet marked with confused characters, and whether they signified jealousy of her young niece, or the love of one who loved her not, Teman could never be certain. Indeed, the Sultan's Shadow tried for 311 many a year to recollect and set in order the fortunes weighed in that mystic balance, with all the particulars of their weighing, but many escaped his memory. One of them it retained with tireless tenacity; for while he wondered over the state of Semroud, his friend, who had hitherto sat quietly by his side, said to the veiled woman, "Weigh to me the fortunes of Teman ;" and when all his good fortune was put into the silvery scale, he saw it balanced by a craving after disputed questions and doubtful philosophy. Then Teman turned and said to Fuadeen, "What is the balance of thy fortunes, for all things have gone well with thee also?" And his friend answered-"To know that which thou hast seen; for they that know the equality of things lose the stimulus of hope and the strength of striving!" That was the last of Teman's remembrances concerning the balance of life. Fuadeen had scarcely spoken till the gray cloud seemed to enlarge and close upon him with a weight of dreamless sleep. When he awoke next day, the noontide sun was streaming through the pavilion, and Fuadeen had gone forth, but there was neither box nor brazier. Teman related the vision to sundry of his friends, with suitable injunctions to secrecy. Each of them was sufficiently astonished while in his presence, but their unanimous opinion on all subsequent occasions was that the Shadow of the Sultan had drunk bhang and smoked bengie. As for Fuadeen, he could never be induced to repeat the experiment, and soon after requested from Shah Jehan leave to take a long journey to the westward, from whence, the choniclers of India remark, he did not return. HONEST AND HAPPY. There's much in the world that is doubtful, Why virtue should live in a poorhouse, The man who with plenty dishonors Oh! who would repine, then, at fortune, Too little oft keep you from ill. Whatever your fate or your station, To God and your country be true; Love those you have proved to be faithful, And laugh at what malice can do ; And then, when affliction o'ertakes you, And death scorns at medical skill, You'll fall asleep honest and happyYes, let the world do what it will! PROVERBIALLY, infidelity is bold so long as there is no danger. Death, apparently inevitable, discloses the foundation of sand on which skepticism is built. I was once crossing Lake Erie with an old gentleman, who related an incident of thrilling interest. His narrative was elicited by the fact that our boat had been on fire the night before, when we were all asleep, but God being merciful, the fire was extinguished without alarm to us. My friend was a plain man, but one of those Christians who are skillful in the Word of God. As near as possible, I will give the narrative in his own language. “I was once crossing this lake in the month of April. It was the first trip the boat made that season, and really the weather was never more pleasant, and the lake more calm. We were bound from Detroit to Buffalo. Towards evening I noticed a certain anxiety in our captain's countenance, and the care with which he examined the machinery of the boat. Still I could see no reason for alarm, and felt none. A young lawyer embarked with us, who during the day made himself conspicuous for his impudent denial of any divine revelation, and for finally asserting his disbelief in the existence of God. He was profane and coarse in his jests, and malig nant in his sneer at religion and its friends. I was among the marked objects of his ridicule, and the following may give you an idea of my conversation with him, abating profaneness and other coarseness on his part. "A man is a fool to believe in God. All things happen according to a necessary law. They do not want a Creator!' Why do not steamboats happen in the same way? I inquired. 'The steamboat shows no more masterly workmanship or design than the forest oak that furnished its ribs and planks!' "Here there was a dead pause. The skeptic was at the end of his sofa, and I said to him, in a quiet way, 'The fool hath said in his heart, There is no God.' I then left him, and he followed me with an audible curse, which to a wicked man is a weapon more available than truth. "We were seated at the table, and in an in stant the dishes seemed dancing. The vessel rolled heavily, as though struggling to keep from sinking. We left the table, but so greatly did the boat toss, and rock, and plunge, that we could scarcely keep from falling. We were in the midst of a gale, and all was now in confusion. The machinery worked true, and seemed instinct with desire to save us. The tiller-chains grated ominously over their pulleys, and it seemed as if man, the inventor of that gallant boat, would outride the tempest. "One fact struck us all. Our bold infidel seemed paralyzed. He became deadly pale, and as the storm increased he uttered cries of distress. You must be out in such a storm to have an insight into the words, ' He did fly upon the wings of the wind. It is a trying time for any one to meet God in the tempest, and be convinced of his weakness, but especially is it so to the fool who has said, 'There is no God.' "While noticing the agitation of this man, my attention was suddenly called to the perfect absence of sound from the chains by which the rudder was managed. Clinging to the sides of the cabin, I crept along to where the captain stood. He was in despair. Our rudder is gone,' said he. At that moment a heavy wave struck the unmanageable vessel, and we were thrown into 'the trough of the sea.' Another wave poured over the deck and our fires were extinguished. We are gone!' exclaimed the captain in consternation; 'nothing short of a miracle can save us !' "The infidel had reached the place where we stood, and as the captain spoke, and all hope fled, he uttered a piercing cry, and looked the perfect image of despair. His infidelity was gone. ""Captain -,' said I, 'you have read the account of Paul's shipwreck, have you not?' Yes.' 'Can you tell me why Paul said to the centurion and soldiers, as the sailors were about to abandon the ship and its passengers to ruin, Except these abide in the ship, ye cannot be saved?' 'No, I cannot,' the captain replied. 'Well, I will give you my idea about it,' said I. 'God purposed to save them all, but generally DAVID'S GRIEF. He works through means. The sailors knew best how to manage their vessel, and therefore their agency formed a part of the plan to save those two hundred and seventy-six persons. Now you, Captain —, have no right to cease effort to save our lives so long as there is a plank left.' "A sailor accustomed to storms on the ocean stood by me, and when I spoke thus, he abruptly exclaimed, 'That's first rate; and now I'll give you my opinion. I don't believe the rudder is gone. Just put a rope around me, and I'll go down and examine.' "It was a bold proposition, and yet the bold man executed it. We held to the rope, and he leaped from the stern of the boat. In a short time we drew him up. Just as I said,' he ex 313 claimed. Give me a hammer and some spikes, and I'll right the craft in a minute.' You may be sure we watched the experiment with thrill. ing interest, and to our joy it was perfectly successful. "In a minute the vessel was brought out of the 'trough of the sea,' and we rekindled our fires. In a few hours we were safely moored at Fairport. The lawyer stayed with me, but he was no longer an infidel. The entire night after we landed at Fairport, he paced the room, and constantly uttered exclamations of mingled penitence for his past wickedness, and of wonder that he was not already in hell, lifting up his eyes, being in torment."" DAVID'S GRIEF. BY MARGARET JUNKIN. "Twas evening in Jerusalem-the hour Within the palace halls Was hushed each sound of mirth and reveling; And through them, to and fro, the menials passed, With muffled tread, as if they feared to break Some slumberer's vision. In a darkened room From the father's heart And gladsome day succeeded, and again The strife at length was ended, and the brow That death had done his work? While hope was there Still lingering on the outmost verge of life, How deep his sorrow! Now that hope was gone, Bearing the spirit with her in her flight, What grief would overwhelm him! Sadder hung The stillness round the chambers; to the king He knew his child was dead. No boisterous grief And wiped the badge of sorrow from his brow, "Wherefore should I weep 1 |