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i SOBYfIEBH FfefflM WfIMftL.—BMOTOB TO MTIMTSM, TM MTS MB SfflMlSS. MB iffilifi r . :r>Ji; feiMisis. | .-j 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