During the night, and the following day, they reposed beneath the datetrees. When Maryam fell into a broken sleep, Ismayl was at her feet, and watched over her; she then often uttered inarticulate and incoherent words, to which the Arab listened with a mixture of surprise and terror. The soft and bewitching spell of an oriental night seems to bring man into contact with heaven: the harmonies of these mysterious hours accompany alike the plaint of the sufferer, and the hymn of gratitude. Sometimes transient lights flit across the horizon like a fiery chariot, and tinge with a pale and fugitive red the fleecy clouds which hover over the summits of the mountains: these uncertain vapours then resemble the celestial intelligence which defend the children of the earth from the spirit of darkness. The savoury fruit of the date-tree and pure water soon restored the strength of Ismayl; but the daughter of Jerusalem will not recover her's. Under constant apprehensions for the safety of the young cheykh, she was anxious to depart. This third day was less painful than the others: Ismayl carried water and dates with which they might refresh themselves on the route. 66 They at length fell in with a party of Arab shepherds, who, moved by their sufferings, presented to them the milk of their mare, and bread baked in the ashes. The oldest of them who was united in bonds of friendship with the Ouahydych Arabs, undertook to be the guide of these poor fugitives, who directed their steps toward the valley of Harma; the shepherd aided them to climb the summits of Gabar, and to cross the torrent of Soéta, and the dreary waste of Hebron. My daughter," said he to Maryam," place thy trust in God: it is he who guided thy steps toward us in the pasturage of Edom. He hath snatched from me, to take unto himself, a beloved daughter, the only prop of my old age: thou bringest her to my remembrance. Grief loveth grief: lean on me, poor broken reed; together we shall resist the tempest." Maryam in the mean time, could scarcely drag ber feeble limbs the fountain of her tears was dried up. In the evening, the piercing sight of the Arab enabled him to discover several horsemen stationed on a height: he concealed his friends behind a rock, and ran with haste towards these men, whom he perceived to be Arabs. The Bedouins no sooner descried the shepherd, than they descended the hill with the speed of lightning. "O! sons of the desert," exclaimed the old man, "can it be that ye are the children of the noble gabyleh of Ouahydyeh, the queen of Bosor and of Eblata ?" "Yes,yes," exclaimed they all at once. The old man, without replying to them, returned to Ismayl, who confided to him his precious charge, to hasten towards his people, to send tidings to his father, and bring a camel. He returned a few instants after; and, falling on his knees before Maryam, said to her, "My sister take courage, all the tribe awaiteth thee, and I wish to restore unto thee a father." Maryam was placed on a mare as gentle and swift as a kid her lover, aided by one of the Arabs, supported her. She fainted several times before she reached the small circular plain of Harma, near unto which the old cheykh came out to meet her, with his wife and daughters. When they drew near to each other, Ismayl exclaimed unto him: "hekyd of the Quahydych, O! my father, here is the angel who hath preserved unto thee thy son! let the new-born camel be killed in honour of her, and present unto her bread and salt." He afterwards related to him, the misfortunes of the Christian maiden; and tears overflowed the venerable beard of the son of Bâhir. Alas! death had already taken possession of the heart of Maryam. The young sisters of Ismayl vainly tried to divert her when it was thought that she was somewhat revived, they led her to the well of Laban : seated beneath the fig tree, the Arab maidens recounted to her their solicitudes during the absence of their brother, and all that he told them of the benevolence and good offices of Ebn-Temyn. When they returned to the tent of the women, their mother, who anxiously expected them, spread open her arms to Maryam, call ed her her daughter, and treated her as she would have treated a beloved child in affliction; she sent to Gaza to seek what it was thought might be agreeable or salutary to Maryam. "We are poor and ignorant in the desert," said she to her; "but our hearts open to friendship, as the pomegranates of Ascalon open to the sun, by which they are coloured and sweetened." Maryam was deeply moved by these marks of the simple and unfeigned in terest taken in her welfare. She loved the young Cheykh; but her piety, the terrors of another life, so cogent in the breast of a Christian female born at the foot of the sacred mountain of Golgotha-every reflection, in short, conspired to trouble her soul: she unceasingly thought she heard the voice of her father, who called her to his presence. In the mean time she was a prey to fever and want of rest. Ismayl intoxicated with love, saw Maryam descend slowly into the tomb; enraged at fate, he wandered around the camp, and roared like a young lion wounded by the empoisoned shaft of the hunter. His father went out to seek him. "God is great," said Ahmed to him, "seeing that he has permitted the dove to seek refuge in my tent. Be persuaded, Ismayl, that this is a lucky sign to the Ouahydych: soothe,therefore,thy breast, more agitated than the waves of the great sea." The tenderest cares were fruitless. One day, the head of Maryam fell on her breast, the last sigh escaped her pallid lips, and her pure soul took its flight towards the Almighty. All the roots which had supplied nourishment to this feeble plant had been cut off. The death of her father, religious scruples, a first love-every thing conspired to wither this flower which had a little time before been so resplendent in freshness and beauty. Ismayl, denied the relief of tears, continued sullen and pensive amid the lamentations of the females of his family. The old cheykh, dejected and dismayed, presided at the funeral obsequies: he concealed beneath the palms the mortal remains of the Christian Virgin, and had the crucifix which this unfortunate girl had constantly worn next her heart, placed on her tomb. The words which have been so often employed to express the sharp agonies of man-would these words suffice to delineate the grief of Ismayl, of this child of nature, rebelling against her barbarous decrees? It was in vain that his father presented to him a little nourishment; that he spoke to him of the interests of the tribe; and of the wars with which he was menaced: not a single word could be drawn from his lips. In the mean time the repose of this great family was about to be interrupted by the aga of Gaza; and the council of the elders had just decided on a general retreat to the Desert of Mephaath, beyond the Black Sea in the country of the Moabites. Each individual belonging to the tribe was engaged in making preparations for departure, when, at the going down of the sun, that planet appeared surrounded by a circle of the colour of blood; the sky, which had suddenly assumed a yellowish hue, gave out a dim and livid light; the birds, skimming the surface of the earth, fled towards the west; the soil appeared luminous, while the air was dull and opake the motionless palm let fall towards the sand its flexible branches, which the slightest wind raises and tosses in air; all was silent; fear prevailed around; and the plaintive moans of the animals announced the approach of the dreadful semoum, that pestilential wind, the terror of the desert. Ismayl, smiling at the prospect of this scourge, embraced the tomb of her whom he loved; his hands dispersed the sand which covered her; he touched, he pressed to his bosom the sheet, and raised the veil with which the virgin's face was covered. Ismayl contemplated with eager looks the traits which death still respected: Maryam appeared as if smiling on her friend. "Come," she seemed to say to him, "come, O! my well beloved: . quit the land of tribulation for the abode of peace."- "Yes," exclaimed Ismayl, pressing his lips on the icy forehead of Maryam, "receive the chaste kiss of the spouse of the sepulchre: I am about to burst my chains, and we shall be reunited for ever!" The wretched youth waited, with an impatient joy the death which was to confound his remains with those of the object of his deep sorrows, of his agonizing pangs. In a little time a reddish cloud came from the east the fury of the storm made a chaos of this tranquil desert: waves of sand came in conflict; the loftiest of the date-trees were deracinated; and a few minutes sufficed to heap up a val ley. Amid this fearful destruction Ismayl disappeared. Ah! He towards whom the prayer of the afflicted heart ascends still quicker than the incense of the tabernacles,-He who judges the most secret thoughts of men, without doubt wished to reunite these two noble and pure souls in the region of holy, eternal, and ineffable joys! (English Magazines, May.) DIED prosecuted his route over Hindostan, and walked to Delhi, to Persepolis and other parts of Persia. He visited Abyssinia and Ethiopia. He entered the Carnatic, and became known to the then Nabob, who conceived an esteem for him, which eventually in his latter days became the means of his support, for the Nabob appointed him his private secretary. A few years ago the House of Commons, in order to spare Mr. Stewart's feelings, granted him 15,000l. to liquidate his demands on the Nabob. Quitting the Carnatic, he adopted the mad resolution of walking to Seringapatam, which he effected; when there, Tippoo, hearing that a European had entered his city, ordered him to be immediately arrested, and directed him to appear before him at his Durbar. He questioned him as to his motive for coming to his kingdom:he answered, solely a desire to see it. Tippoo told him he must consider himself as his subject, and as such, a military one, and he must be enrolled in his army; and that as he appeared a gentleman, he would make him, after some tactical instruction, a Captain of Sepoys. He became one, and was engaged in several affairs against the Mahrattas, and was wounded in the right arm. He continued a detenu of Tippoo's several years, until the late Sir James Sibbald, bart. then at Bombay, was appointed by that Presidency to settle the terms of peace with Tippoo. Stewart availed himself of the opportunity of requesting Sir James to use his interest with his Highness, to procure his release. This, with some difficulty, Sir James Sibbald effected; and Stewart set forward to walk to Europe. He crossed the Desart of Arabia and arrived at Marseilles. He walked through the whole kingdom of France, through Spain, came to England-left England for America, through every state of which he walked, as he did through Ireland and Scotland. On his return from Ireland he was nearly shipwrecked; and at the moment of being so, he begged of some of the crew, if they survived, to take care of the book he had written, and intended to publish, entitled, "Opus Maximum," a favorite work of his. His mental powers were of a character unique in the extreme, and perhaps without any approximation of similitude in the thoughts of any human being. He was the Atomical Philosopher; his defence and demonstration of which singular hypothetical doctrine was so ably defined and asserted, that he could almost induce infidelity to become a proselyte. He passed his last ten years in the neighborhood of Charing Cross and Cockspur-street; to be, as he said, in the "full tide of human existence." He must have been seen by thousands sitting in St.James's Park, drinking warm milk. RAYMOND THE ROMANTIC, AND HIS FIVE WISHES. THE AIR BALLOON. No. II. Ah! believe me, destroy your balloons!-climb not with your inflammable air beyond the sphere to which God has limited it; burn your journals; annihilate every trace of this rare secret; renounce the project of raising yourselves above the thunder. Marquis de Villette. „ A DEEP and permanent melancholy, which preyed upon me unceasingly, succeeded to the terrific circumstances and results related in my last adventure; and it seemed as if even Time itself would have but little chance to soften, or to remove the keenness of the impression which they had made upon my mind. It is with our griefs, however, as it is with the approach of spring, and the gradual expansion of the days. We do not step at once from gloominess and desolation to liveliness and beauty, nor from the long nights of wintry darkness to the bright sunny mornings of summer :-No, as an ancient and quaint author remarks, "The lengthening of days is not suddenly perceived till they are grown a pretty deal longer, because the sun, though it be in a circle, yet it seems for a while to go in a right line. For take a segment of a great circle, especially, and you shall seem to doubt whether it be straight or no. But when that the sun is got past that line, then you presently perceive the days are lengthened." This exactly illustrates the departure of sorrow from the soul; we do not feel the removal of any part of our affliction until a large portion of it be wept away, ameliorated by time, or borne into oblivion by the gradual recession of grief, which, after it have flowed to a great height, usually ebbs by degrees, and carries all our distresses into the great sea of our former lives. To accelerate this, men usually fly to a vast variety of means, one of the most common of which is travelling into other countries, thus deeming, that they shall leave their sorrows behind them with the scenes where they originally occurred. This, altho' it be in a great measure a mistaken conceit, I was prevailed upon to try, and accordingly, in the latter part of 1783, I left the Zetland Islands for the Continent, and made Paris the first grand resting-place in my journey. I acceded the more readily to the wishes of my friends, because the discoveries of the French in the science of Aerostation were then become a general subject in conversation; and though I neither expected nor wished that my tour should remove from my mind the remembrances which filled it with a wild abstracted joy, and a destroying but pleasing sorrow, yet did I earnestly desire that it might produce the gratification of another of my romantic wishes; namely, to ascend in an Air-Balloon. My departure was, of course, previous to the setting-in of that dangerous season, which so deforms the climate of Zetland; and as the close of the month of September proved much milder than usual,on the 24th I embarked on board the Mermaid, which was then commanded by my kind friend Rudolph Feldsparr, and was bound for the coast of France. My former life had been passed entirely in Zetland, and the monotony of its primitive customs had been broken only by our departure for the Haaf, or Deep Sea-Fishing; and I had never yet set foot upon the shores of another country. My romantic disposition would, it is true, have led me abroad in search of adventures to gratify it; but at the same time, Zetland was endeared to me by being the Mortlakes' "last and longest restingplace;" it was sacred because it contained, either in its seas, or beneath its turf, the ashes of all my former ancestors, and dearest relatives of my own time, from Ivar, the first Jarl, or Lord of Mortlake, contemporary with Harold the Fair, early in the tenth century; down to my own lamented father and mother, Ronovald and Alofa Mortlake. -Zetland, then, was to me, what the cavern in the field of Macphelah was to Jacob: "there they buried Abraham and Sarah his wife; there they buried Isaac and Rebekah his wife; and there I buried Leah." When these circumstances are considered, and when it is remembered that the heart is much more susceptible and tender in sorrow than in joy, it will not be surprising that parting from Zetland should seem to me like becoming an outcast from Eden; and that, on sailing from NorthMaven, I remained motionless at the stern of the vessel, even for hours after the island was out of sight, till at length my tears and the night more completely dimmed my vision. While yet in sight of the shore, I, however, did not forget to sing my last adieus to my native land, to the tune of a funeral song first used over the body of IvarMortlake. parts of Zetland, and the Islands of Yell and Unst. In this voyage all the beauties of the place were spread before me,and thus all my melancholy feelings were increased, yet I felt a sweet and pensive pleasure, in contemplating each well-remembered spot, and in considering how time or the sea might have changed their features, before I should look upon them again. Although to an eye which for the first time views the Zetland Isles, there will appear only a rocky uneven coast, broken with bleak and dark mossy hills rising above it, yet to those who know where to direct their attention, there is many a beautiful and romantic piece of scenery to be found, even in the craggy precipices which guard the sea-shore. My own village of North-Maven is one of the few places on the island which presents an agreeable and cultivated appearance seaward: not that it is destitute of that wilder kind of landscape which is so characteristic of islands in general, for there are not many points which are better known for the grandeur and magnificence of their pros pects, but it is also interspersed with natural beauties of a more pleasing description. As we sailed from out the harbour of North-Maven in a northeasterly direction, the wonderful com bination of wildness and tranquillity so evident on that peninsula became particularly striking. Above our starboard bow were spread out the Villeins, or Plains of Ure,which are verdant lawns of several miles in extent,situate on the tops of some high and precipitous perforated rocks which stand on the western side of the peninsula. Along the shore,and stretching out to sea, runs a series of magnificent rocks which form lofty arches, and are pierced into deep caverns and subterraneous recesses, or else are divided from top to bottom by the sea into pinnacles, with acutely pointed summits. -" Cliffs which had been rent asunder; A dreary sea now flows between, But neither heat nor frost nor thunder, Whilst I was thus employed, the Mermaid had worked her way out of the Bay of North-Maven, and was proceeding in a north-eastern direction round the scattered fragments of rocky territory which form the most easterly Nor are these the only picturesque ob93 ATHENEUM VOL. 11. Shall wholly do away, ween, |