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For Richards’ Weekly Gazette.
AGE OF RHYME.
BY ALTON*
“All Bedlam or Tarnassud is let out!”
‘Sir! do you hope to write good verso,
Who all its rules established, curse.'’’
Vo gods! what numbers hope to gaia
A patient hearing in this age!
How every simple, love-sick swain,
A victim to the ‘ rhyming rage,’
O’crrcms the press with doggerel vile,
Writ in tho ‘milk-and-water’ style!
Contented with his maid’s applause,
’Twerc well, indeed, if here he’d pause ;
But, flattered by her gracious praise,
Goes on to dream of “ deathless lays,”
Which may, in time, bring liigh renown,
And him a Poet-laureate crown !
Yea, with a fancy all on flame,
Aspiring to a Milton’s fame,
Hard o’er the midnight-lamp, in pain,
lie toiling plods with aching brain:
Ten thousand pous and reams of paper
Destroying in bis desp’rate caper!
Until, at last, all ‘nice and neat,’
The m muscript, writ out compleat,*
Is placed before the printer’s devil,
To cap the climax of the evil!
When to the world, in ‘ gilt and cloth,’
Hues forth the poet’s * work* of froth !
In every boudoir soon a place
It gains, ’mid ribbons, tape and lace ;’
The ‘pet* of all the maids of Station,
Being the ‘latest publication:’
Each beauty there, with 1 taguid eye.
Weeps o’er the page, and heaves a sigh,
Confessing, with a ‘ master art,*
His tender verses melt the heart !
While, in eulogiums, 10, they praise
The author of such ‘ feeling lays
Os what a ‘ soul’ he is posscst;
Sure ‘genius’ lives within his breact;
Is breath'd forth from each lisping tongue,
Other opinions wise among.
When, if he lives within the town,
A scented note is posted down,
Requesting soft the company
Os Mr. Poet up to ‘ tea.’
Received this from the kindly fair,
Doth all his future fame declare ;
Till, lo! so fast before liis eyes,
.Crowd on bis splendid ‘destinies,’
. Already on the pinnacle
Os Fame, he stands a miracle !
We’ll shift the scene. The critic, here,
Sits in his easy, ‘ old arm-ebnr* ;*
Before him lies our poet’s book,
• O’erbending which, with patient look,
He on with Christian meekness reads,
And now, if e’er, that meekness needs !
Until, at last, iu blank despair,
Calling to aid a Kame or Blair,
He tries it b}’ establish'd rules,
Which none affect to spurn but fools;
Who o’er all rule their genius deem !
When ah, poor book ! it ‘ kicks the beam !’
For, lacking measure., rhyme and sense,
It naught contains but bold pretence !
This is but otu —still yet a few
‘We’ll further on in haste review. #
As when some rustic, on his fiddle,
Assays to play * I lie diddle diddle
-And, reckless* of all timo and measure,
IPltvyg lhree-I'tfurths,’ ‘ six-eightlis,’ at his plea
sure
-Now like a march, now like a dirge,
Now winds up with a desperate ‘ splurge 1
And, thinking thus, with master-hand,
lie’s play’d some ‘ overturn grand ;
Triumphant erics—Was not that lair t
While wc, convulsed, ask —What's the air 1
So here this poet, thin and pale,
he hut writes a simple tale,
<o*w sViigU stylo of stanza spurns,
But noeds must try a score by turns ;
That, with advantage, thus he may
His * gift divine’ give perfect ‘ play
Now limps in Chaucer, Spenser, Swift,
Then down to Coleridge takes a shift;
Till, when the wretched medley’s done,
We’ve all forgot bow it begun!
But 10, aside ! what yonder comes,
< Iroaning with weight of pond’rous tomes 1
1 olumes enough, we think, full near,
To stock the library of a peer!
While, hark! iu breathless haste a voico
Beneath, doth in self-praise rejoice:
“ Behold ! behold ! how much I’ve done 1
A name, a deathless name, I’ve won !
in five days this—that one in ten—
No respite gave I to my pun ;
But on I wrote in every veiu—
The grave, the gay, the lively strain ;
Nor paus'd a moment e’er to think,
Or waste my time ideas to link j
Best, while 1 stopp’d, my pen might rust—
My ink dry up, aud rhyme be lost!
Ami who, hut he of talents fine,
f ould offer so much to the Nino 1”
Boor, self-eoncoitod fool, ho dcoms
I hat merit’s proved by lengthy themes;
W c truly wish he could but know,
‘V hen toiling at a folio,
A dozen sheets full near contain
I he poems from a Goldsmith’s brain !
Hear this one, if the critic warns,
” ‘ lcn he a proper inonsur eeorns,
llow stern, indignant, in reply,
He bids him list the * melody !’
Triumphant, quickly cites a Byron:
“ Hear how his lines frequently run !”
Nor, for a moment, doth suppose
He hobbles on in wretched ‘ prose,’
While actual adds a beauty rare,
The violation of the peer!
Another gives us better time 1
But who on earth can read his rhyme 1
Yet, cautious, cautious how wo speak ;
Breathe not to rhyme that he must ‘ eke!’
For if of this to hint we dare,
Aghast he stands, and with a stare :
“ What! are you of that stupid stamp,
Who, for a rhyme, the sense would cramp!”
Forgetful that we've read the Bard
Os Eloisc to Abelard:
And both for rhyme and sense can hope,
Whene’er we read aDrydcn—Pope!
This other’s rhyme and verse are pure,
But tliluks ’tis great to be ‘ obscure
The deeper mystery he can draw,
The more ’twillstrike the mind with ‘awe.’
Now prates of Bounty’s flashing wheels,
Returning late from night-quadrilles;
Now, gray Grimalkin, 10, afar,
Flies trembling from the morning-star !
The first, on Yankees to encroach,
We ‘guess’ must mean a hackney coach ;
While light, we've heard, would fright a bat,
But who e’er knew’ ’twould scare a cat !
Oh, how such ‘ splendid vagaries,’
This set of wits prodigious please !
Ah! would that wo eould understand
These deep—deep things—they are so grand!
But ah ! our sad misfortune is—
We arc ‘slow’ at ‘great discoveries!’
And, as along the page we creep,
Bo pick out 4 beauties’—fall to sleep !
Now, sirs, we’ll ask, since plain the error,
Who wonders all, with secret tenor,
Tremble to hear the daily papers
Proclaiming—“ Poems, by Rhymc-scraper3!”
ip*
.-'if
THE LAST ARROW.
BY CHAHLEsTr HOFFMAN.
“Auil who bo yo, who rashly dare
To chase in woods the forest child 1
To hunt the panther to his lair—
The Indian ia his native wild !”—Ox.D Ballad.
The American reader, if at all curious
about the early history of his country, has
probably heard of the famous expedition,
undertaken by the vicegerent of Louis the
Fourteenth, the governor-general of New
France, against the confederated Five Na
tions of New York ; an expedition which,
though it carried with it all the pomp and
circumstance of European warfare into
their wild-wood haunts, was attended with
no adequate results, and had but a momen
tary effect in quelling tire spirit of the
tameless Iroqouis.
It was on the Fourth of July, 1696, that
the commamler-in-chief, the veteran Count
tie Frontenac, marshalled the forces at Lc
Chine, with which he intended to crush
forever the powers of the Aganuschion
confederacy. His regulars were divided
into four battalions of two hundred men
each, commanded respectively by three
veteran leaders, aud the young Chevelier
ile Gtu’ s : He formed also four battalions
of Canadian volunteers, efficiently officered,
and organized as regular troops. The In
dian allies were divided into three bands,
each of which was placed under the com
mand of a nobleman of rank, who had
gained distinction in the European warfare
of France. One was composed of the
Sault and St. Louis bands, and of friendly
Abenaquis; another consisted of the Hu-!
rons of Lorelte and the mountaineers of
the North; the third band was smaller,
and composed indiscriminately of warriors
of different tribes, whom a spirit of adven
ture led to embark upon the expedition.
They were chiefly Ottawas, Saukies, and
Algonquins, and these the Baron ile Bekan
court charged himself to conduct. This
formidable armament was amply provis
ioned, and provided with all the munitions
of war. Besides pikes, arquebusses, and
other small arms then in use, they were
furnished with grenades, a mortar to throw
them, and a couple of field-pieces, which,
with the tents and other camp equipage,
were transported in large batteaux, built for
the purpose. Nor was the energy of their
movements unworthy of this brilliant pre
paration.
Ascending the St. Lawrence, and coast
ing the shores of Lake Ontario, they en
■ tered the Oswego river, cut a military road
i around the falls, and carrying their trans
ports over the portage, launching them
anew, and finally debouched with their
whole flotilla upon the waters of Ononda
ga lake.
It must have been a gallant sight to be
hold the warlike pageant floating beneath
the primitive forest which then crowned
the hills around that lovely water; to see
the veterans who had served under Tu
renne, Vauban, and the great Conde, mar
shalled with pike and cuirass beside the
half-naked Huron and Abenaquois; while
young cavaliers, in the less warlike garb
of the court of the magnificent Louis,
moved with plume and mantle amid the
dusky files of wampum-decked Ottawas
and Algonquins. Banners were there,
which had flown at Steenkirk and Landen,
or rustled above the troopers that Luxem
burg's trumpets had guided to glory,
when Prince Waldeck’s battalions were
borne down beneath his furious charge.
Nor was the enemy thatthis gallant host
were seeking, unworthy of those whose
swords had been tried in some of the most
celebrated fields of Europe. “TheKomans
of America,” as the F'ive Nations have
been called by more than one writer, had
proved themselves soldiers, not only by
carrying their arms among the native tribes
a thousand miles away, and striking their
enemies alike upon the lakes of Maine,
the mountains of Carolina, and the prairies
of the Missouri; but they had already
bearded one European army beneath the
walls of Quebec, and shut up another for
weeks within the defences of Montreal,
with the same courage that a half a centu
ry later vanquished the battalions of Dies
kau upon the banks of Lake George.
Our business, however, is not with the
main uum-mems or .ms a.mj, ..met, a,
have already mentioned, were wholly
unimportant in their results. The aged
Chevalier de Frontenac was said to have
other objects in view besides the political
motives for the expedition, which he set
forth to his master, the Grand Monarque.
Many years previous, when the Five
Nations had invested the capital of New
France, and threatened the extermination
of that thriving colony, a beautiful, half
blood girl, whose education had been com
menced under the immediate auspices of
the Governor-general, and in whom, in
deed, M. De Frontenac was said to have a
parental interest, was carried oft', with oth
er prisoners, by the retiring foe. Every ef
fort had been made in vain, during the oc
casional cessation of hostilities between the
French and the Iroquois, to recover this
child ; and though in ihe years that inter
vened, some wandering Jesuit from time to
time averred that he had seen the Christian
captive living as the contented wife of a
young Mohawk warrior, ycttheold noble
man seems never to have despaired of re
claiming his “ nut brown daughter.” In
deed, thechevalier must have been impelled
by some such hope, when, at the age of
seventy, and so feeble that he was half the
time carried in a litter, lie ventured to en
counter the perils of an American wilder
ness, and place himself at the head ot the
heterogeneous bands which now invaded
the country of the Five Nations under his
conduct.
Among the half-breed spies, border scouls,
and mongrel adventurers, that followed in
the train of the invading army, was a rene
gade Fleming, of the name of Hanyost.
This man, in early youth, had been made
a serjeant-major, when he deserted to the
French rauks in Flanders. He had sub
sequently taken up a military grant in
Canada, sold it after emigrating, and then, i
making his way down to the Dutch settle- j
ments on the Hudson, had become domici
lated, as it were, among their allies, the ,
Mohawks, and adopted the life of a hunt
er. Hanyost, hearing that his old friends,
the French, were making such a formida
ble descent, did not now hesitate to desert
his more recent acquaintances ; hut offered
his services as •<1 guide to Count de Fron
tenac the moment he entered the hostile
country. It was not, however, mere cu
pidity, or the habitual love of treachery,
which actuated the base Fleming in this
instance. Hanyost, in a difficulty with an
Indian trapper, which had been referred for
arbitrament to the young Mohawk chief,
Kiodago, (a settler of disputes,) whose
cool courage and firmness fully entitledhiin
to so distinguished a name, conceived him
self aggrieved by the award which had
been given against him. The scorn with
which the arbitrator met his charge of un
fairness, stung him to the soul, and fearing
the arm of the powerful savage, he had
nursed the revenge in secret, whose ac
complishment seemed now at hand. Kio
| dago, ignorant of the hostile force which
I had entered his country, was oft’ with his
! hand at a fishing station, or summer-camp,
i among the wild hills about Konnedieyu ;*
; and when llanycst informed the command
er of the French forces that, by surprising
this party, his long-lost daughter, the wife
of Kiodago, might be once more given to
his arms, a small but efficient force was in
stantly detached from the nniu body of
the army to strike the blow. A dozen
musketeers, with twenty-five pike men,
led severally by the Baron dt Bekancourt
and the Chevalier de Grais. the former
having the chief command oi the expedi
tion, were sent upon this duty, with Han
yost to guide them to the village of Kio
dago. Many hours were corsumed upon
the march, as the soldiers were not yet
habituated to the wilderness; but just be
fore dawn, on the second day. the party
found themselves in the neighborhood of
the Indian village.
The place was wrapped in repose, and
the two cavaliers trusted that the surprise
would be so complete, that their command
ant’s daughter must certainly be taken.
The baron, after a careful examination of
the hilly passes, determined to head the
onslaught, while his companion in arms,
with Hanyost to mark out his prey, should
pounce upon the chieftain's wife. This
being arranged, their followers were warn
ed not to injure the female captives while
cutting their defenders to pieces, and then,
a moment being allowed for each man to
take a last look at the condition of his
arms, they were led to the attack.
The inhabitants of the lated village, se
cure in their isolated situation, aloof from
the war-parties of that wild district, had
neglected all precaution against surprise,
and were buried in sleep when the whiz
zing of a granade, that terrible, but now
rsupei. cOU tngim .l*.
them from their slumbers. The missile, to
which a direction had been given that car
ried it in a direct line through the main
row of wigwams, which formed the little
street, went crashing among their frail
frames of basket-work, and kindled the
dry mats stretched over them into instant
flames. And then, as the started warriors
leaped all naked and unarmed from their
blazing loJgcs, the French pikemen, wait
ing only’ for a volley from the musketeers,
followed it up with a charge still more fa
tal The wretched savages were slaugh
tered like sheep in the shambles. Somt,
overwhelmed with dismay, sank unresist
ing upon the ground, and, covering up
their heads after the Indian fashion, when
resigned to death, awaited the fatal stroke
without a murmur; others, seized with a
less benumbing panic, sought safety in
flight, and rushed upon the pikes that lined
the forest's paths around them. Many
there were, however, who, schooled to
scenes as dreadful, acquitted themselves
like warriors. Snatching their weapons
from the greedy flames, they sprang with
irresistible fury upon the bristling files of
pikemen. Their heavy war-clubs beat
down and splintered the fragile spears of
the Europeans, whose corselets, ruddy with
the reflected fires ’mid which they fought,
glinted back still brighter sparks from the
hatches of flint which crashed against
them. The fierce veterans pealed the
charging cry of many a well-fought field
in other climes; but wild and high the In
dian whoop rose shrill above the din of
conflict, until the hovering raven in midair
caught up and answered that discordant
shriek.
De Grais. in the meantime, surveyed the
scene of action with eager intentness, ex
acting each moment to see the paler fea
tures of the Christian captive among the
dusky fema!?*, who ever and anon sprang
shrieking from the blazing levees, and
were instantly buried backward into the
flames by fathers and brothers, who even
thus would save them from the hands that
vainly essayed to grasp their distracted
forms. The Mohawks began now towage
a more successful resistance, and just when
tile fight was raging hottest, and the high
spirited Frenchman, beginning to despair
of his prey, was about launching into the
midst of it, he saw a tail warrior, who had
hitherto been foi ward in the conflict, disen
gage himself from the melee, and wheeling
suddenly upon a soldier, who had likewise
separated from his party, brain him with a
tomahawk, before he could make a move
ment in his defence. The quick eye of !
the young chevalier, too, caught a glance
of another figure, in pursuit of whom, as
she emerged with an infant in her arms,
from a lodge on the farther side of the vil
lage, the luckless Frenchman had met his
doom. It was the Christian captive, the
wife of Kiadago, beneath whose hand he
had fallen. That chieftain now stood over
the body of his victim, brandishing a war
* Sinco corrupted into “ Canadaßeautiful
Water.
club which he bad snatched from a dying
Indian near. Quick as thought, De Grais
levelled a pistol at his head, when the
track of the flying girl brought her directly
in his line of sight, and he withheld his
fire. Kiodago, in the meantime, had been
cut oil from the rest of his people by the
soldiers, who closed in upon the space
which his terrible arm had a moment before
kept open. A cry of agony escaped the
high-souled savage, as he saw how thus
the last hope was lost, lie made a ges
ture, as if about to l ush again into the fray,
and sacrifice his life with his tribesmen;
and then, perceiving how futile must be the
act, he turned on his heel, and bounded af
ter his retreating wife, with arms out
stretched, to shield her from the dropping
shots of the enemy.
The uprising sun had now lighted up
the scene, but recognition of the other act
ors in the disastrous affray was altogether
out ot tne On irith tK I
warrior—alone was the flying figure of his
beloved wife continually before him; and
when accompanied by Hainyost and seven
others, he had not got fairly in pursuit;
Kiodago, who still kept behind his wife,
was far in advance of the chevalier and
his party. Iler forest training had made
the Christian captive as fleet of foot as an
Indian maiden. She heard, too, the cheer
ing voice of her loved warrior behind her,
and, pressing her infant in her arms, she
urged her flight over crag and fell, and
soon reached the head of the rocky pass,
which it would take some moments for any
but an American forester to scale. But
the indefatigable Frenchmen are urging
their way up the steep; the cry of pursuit
grows nearer, as they catch a sight of her
husband through the thickets, and the ago
mzeU wile tinifs tier progress preveiuca uy
a ledge of rock that impends above her.
But now again Kiadago is by her side : he
has lifted his wife to the clill above, and
placed her infant in her arms; and already,
with renewed activity, the Indian mother
is speeding on to a cavern among the hills,
well known as a fastness of safety.
Kiadago looked a moment after her re
treating figure, and then coolly swung him
self to the ledge which commanded the
pass. He might now easily have escaped
his pursuers: but as he stepped hack from
the edge of the cliff, and looked down the
narrow ravine, the vengeful spirit of the
red man was too strong within him to allow
such an opportunity of striking a blow to
escape. His tomahawk and war-club had
both been lost in the strife, hut he still car
ried at his hack a more efficient weapon
in the hands of so keen a hunter. Ihere
were but three arrows in his quiver, and
the Mohawk was determined to have the
life of an enemy in exchange for each of
them. His bow was strung quickly, but
with as much coolness as if there were no
exigency’ to require haste. Yet he had
scarcely time to throw himself upon his
breast, a few yards from the brink of the
declivity, before one of his pursuers, more
active than the rest, exposed himself to the
unerring archer. He came leaping from
rock to rock, and had nearly reached the
head of the glen, when, pierced through
and through by one of Kiodago’s arrows,
he toppled from the crags, and rolled,
clutching the leaves in his death-agony,
among the tangled furze below. A second
met a similar fate, and a third victim would
probably have been added, if a shot from
the fusil of Hanyost, who sprang forward
and caught sight of the Indian just as the
first man fell, had net disabled the thumb
joint of the bold archer, even as he fixed
his last arrow in the string. Resistance
seemed now at an end, and Kiodago again
betook himself to flight. Yet, anxious to
divert the pursuit from his wife, the young
chieftain pealed a yell of defiance, as he
retreated in a diflerent direction from that
which she had taken. The whoop was
answered by a simultaneous shout and
tush on the part of the whites; but the In
dian had not advanced far, before he per
ceived that the pursuing party, now redu
ced to six, had divided, and that three only
followed him. He had recognized the
scout, Hanyost, among his enemies, and it
was now apparent that that wily traitor,
instead of being misled by his ruse, had
guided the other three upon the direct trail
| to the cavern which the Christian captive
had taken. Quick as thought, the Mo
, hawk acted upon the impression. Making
’ a few steps within a thicket, still to mis
i lead his present pursuers, he bounded across
■ a mountain torrent, and then, leaving his
| foot-marks, dashed in the yielding bank,
: he turned shortly on the rock beyond, re
crossed the stream, and concealed himself
behind a fallen tree, while his pursuers
passed within a few paces of his covert.
A broken hillock now only divided the
chief from the point to which he had dt-
rccted his wife by another route, and to
which the remaining party, consisting of
De Grais, Hanyost, and a French muske
teer, were hotly urging their way. The
hunted warrior ground bis teeth with rage,
when he heard the voice of the treacher
ous Fleming iu the glen below him ; and,
springing from crag to crag, he circled the
rocky knoll, and planted his foot by the
roots of the blasted oak that shot its limbs
above the cavern, just as his wife had
reached the spot, and pressed her babe to
her bosom, and sank exhausted among the
flowers that waved in the moist breath of
the cave.
It chanced that, at that very instant, De
Grais and his followers had paused beneath
the opposite side of the knoll, from whose
broken surface the foot of the flying Indian
had disengaged a stone, which, crackling
among the branches, found its way through
a slight ravine into the glen below. The
a V- - L...VU OVUUU IU UUUm tUt u uiu
ment. The musketeer, pointing in the di
rection whence the stone had rolled, turned
to receive the order of his officer. The
chevalier, who had made one step in ad
vance of a broad rock between them, lean
ed upon it, pistol in hand, half turning to
ward his follower; while the scout, who
stood farthest out from the steep bank,
bending forward to discover the mouth of
the cave, must have caught a glimpse of
the sinking female, just as the shadowy
form of her husband was displayed above
her. God help thee, now, bold archer!
thy quiver is empty ; thy game of life is
nearly up; the sleuth-hound is upon thee;
and thy scalp-lock, whose plumes now
flutter in the breeze, will soon be twined in
the fingers of the vengeful renegade—thy
wife 1 But hold 1 the noble savage has
Atm UTtte lUTu't lvTi*.
Disabled as he thought himself, the Mo
hawk had not dropped his bow in his
flight. His last arrow was still griped in
his bleeding fingers; and, though his stif
fened thumb forcbore the use of it to the
best advantage, the hand of Kiodago had
not lost its power. The crisis which it
takes so long to describe, had been realized
by him in an instant. He saw how the
Frenchmen, inexperienced in wood-craft,
were at fault; he saw, too, that the keen
eye of Hanyost had caught sight of the
object of their pursuit, and that further
flight was hopeless; while the scene of
his burning village in the distance inflamed
him with hate and fury towards the instru
ment of his misfortunes. Bracing one knee
upon the flinty rock, while the muscles of
the other swelled as if the whole clergies
Ot hIS bOUy WelC tulicolcd in tViat niiigh.
effort, Kiodago aims at the treacherous
scout, and the twanging bow-string dis
misses his last arrow upon its errand.
The hand of the si-ikit could alone have
guided that shaft! But Waneyo smiles
upon the brave warrior, and the arrow,
while it rattles harmless against the cuiras
of the French officer, glances toward tire
victim for whom it was intended, and quiv
ers in the heart of Hanyost! The dying
wretch grasped the sword-chain of the
chevalier, whose corselet clanged among
the rocks, as the two went rolling down
the glen together; and De Grais was
not unwilling to abandon the pursuit, when
the musketeer, coming to his assistance,
had disengaged him, bruised and bloody,
from the embrace of the stiffening corpse.
What more is there to add 1 The be
wildered Europeans rejoined their com
rades, who were soon after on their march
from the scene they had desolated; while
Kiadago descended from his eyry to collect
the fugitive survivors of his band, and,
after burying the slain, to wreak a terrible
vengeance upon their murderers; the most
of whom were cut off by him before they
joined the main body of the French army, i
The Count dc Frontenac, returning to Cana
da, died soon afterward, and the existence
of his half-blood daughter was soon for
gotten. And, though among the dozen
old families in the State of New York, who
have Indian blood in their veins, many
trace their descent from the offspring of no
ble Kiodago and his Christian wife, yet the
hand of genius, as displayed in the admi
rable picture of Chapman and Adams, has j
alone rescued from oblivion the thrilling
scene of the Mohawk’s last arrow !
fey” Every one who bears the name of
a gentleman is accountable for it to his
family.
fey” David Fender, “ popping the ques
tion,” in a letter, concludes thus—“ And
should you say yes, dear Mar}', I will tru
ly be your D. Fender.”
fey-Blessed is the woman whose hus
band has a wooden leg, as she will have
but one stocking to knit.
fey- Nothing dries sooner than a tear.
i? in &
AN ARAD SHEIK'S HAREM.
Os the three ladies now forming this ha
rem, the chief was Arusha, a lady celebra
ted in the song of every Arab in the desert,
for her beauty and noble blood. She was
the daughter of ‘.lassan, Sheik of the Tai,
antiquity, and one of whose chiefs, iiatem,
her ancestor, is a hero of Eastern romance.
Sofuk had carried her away by force from
her father, but had always treated her
with great respect. From her rank and
beauty, she had earned the title of “Queen
of the Desert.” Her form, traceable through
the thin shirt which she wore, like other
Arab womens was well-proportioned and
graceful. She was tall in stature and fair
in complexion. Her features were regular
and her eyes dark and brilliant. She had,
undoubtedly, claims to more than ordinary
beauty; to the Arabs she was perfection,
for all the resources of their art had been
exhausted to complete what nature had be
gun. Her lips were dyed deep blue, her
eyelids were continued in indigo until they
united over her nose, her cheeks and fore
t. V—\ v VAfc X. V t. ... ia .
eye-lashes darkdned by kohl; and on her
legs and bosom could be seen the tattooed
ends of flowers and fanciful ornaments,
which were carried in festoons ami net
work over her whole body. Hanging from
each ear, and reaching to her waist, was
an enormous ear-ring of gold, terminating
in a tablet of the same material, carved and
ornamented with four turquoises. Her
nose was also adorned with a prodigious
gold ring, set with jewels, of such ample
dimensions, that it covered the mouth, and
was to be removed when the lady ate. —
Ponderous rows of strung beads, Assyrian
cylinders, fragments of coral, agates, and
parti-colored stones, hung fr.im her neck ;
loose silver rings encircled her wrists and
ancles, making a loud jingling as she walk
ed. Over her blue shirt was thrown, when
:~sup.d from her tent, a coarse stoned
cloak, and a common black handkerchief
was lied round her head. Her menage
combined, if the old song be true, the do
mestic and the queenly, and was carried
on with a nice appreciation of economy.—
The immense sheet of black goat-hair can
vass which formed the tent, was supported
by twelve or fourteen stout poles, anil was
completely open on one side. Being en
tirely set apart for the women, it had no.
partitions, as in the tent of the common
Arab, who is obliged to reserve a corner
for the reception of his guests. Between
the centre poles were placed, upright, and
close to one another, large camel or goat
hair sacks, filled with rice, corn, barley,
coffee, and other household stuff; their
mouths being, of course, upwards. Upon
them were spread carpets and cushions, on
which Arnsha reclined. Around her, squat
ted on the ground, were some fifty hand
maidens, tending the wide cauldron, bak
ing bread on the iron plate heated over the
ashes, or shaking between them the skin
suspended between three stakes, and tilled
with milk, to be thus churned into butter.
It is the privilege of the head wife to pre
pare in her tent the dinners of the sheik’s
! guests. The fires, lighted on all sides,
! sent forth a cloud of wnokc, which hung
heavily under the folds of the tent, and
would have long before dimmed any eyes
less bright than those of Arnsha. As sup
! plies were asked for by the women, she
lifted the corner of her carpet, untied the
mouths of the sacks, and distributed their
contents. Everything passed through her
hands. To show her authority and rank,
she poured continually upon her attend
ants a torrent of abuse, and honored them
with epithets of which I may he excused
i attempting to give a translation ; her vo
cabulary equalling, if not excelling, in
i richness, that of the highly-educated lady
|of the city. The combination of the do
mestic and authoritative was thus com
plete. Her children, three naked little ur
; chins, black with sun and mud, and adorn-
I eil with a long tail hanging from the crown
of their heads, rolled in the ashes or on the
! grass. Amsha, as I have observed, shared
; the affections, though not the tent, of So
fuk—for each establishment had a teut of
