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SMIiiEM MBMH (EMM*.
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(Original |k?trtj.
Kortlie Southern Literary Gazette.
LINES.
BY ROSE DU SUD.
Oh! scorn thou ne’er a heart,
Because tlion deem’st it cold ;
Beneath its seeming chill
May slumber wealth untold.
As bleak and rugged rocks,
Repulsive to the sight,
Yet shrine those priceless gems,
Which mock the sunbeam’s light.
As precious gold, within
The dark and uncouth ore,
Awaits the spell of heat,
Its beauty to restore.
As purest pearls are found
Within the deepest caves,
And finest corals grow,
Beneath the stormiest waves.
As richest, brightest flowers,
In forests dim oft hide ;
And nost delicious fruits
In coarsest shells abide.
Ah rare and precious scents
Elude all common art,
To bless the toil of him,
Who. with devoted heart,
Still loves the treasure hid,
With hopeful heart pursues,
Surmounts the baffling ills,
That timid souls confuse, —
And with a will as strong
As is the iron rock,
And purpose true as steel,
That bends not in the shock,
Still grasps the thing beloved,
Though in a rude disguise,
That veils its beauty rare,
From cold and careless eyos.
Such souls alone have power
To penetrate the chill,
A warm, truo heart oft wraps,
And such alone can fill.
March, 1851.
For tlie Southern Literary Gazette.
THE GOOD WIFE.
VERSIFIED FROM PROVERBS.
The Lord hath many daughters,
That virtuously achieve,
But thou exceilest all, for thou
Dost labour and believe.
Thou know’st how vain is beauty,
Ilow false the charms of sense.
And serving God with truth, thou hast
His praise and recompense.
Thy husband’s praises shall be thine ;
The children of thy breast,
Thus taught, shall in their love arise.
And fondly call thee blessed.
(Drigittnl Calcs.
For the Southern Literary Gazette.
HAROUN AND HAJADOOR;
OR. AGIIOP’S SHEITANLU STORY.
BY ISJA AVIMTA.
“So Aghop told the traveller the following
remarkable story.” [See Last Number of the
Gazette.]
Once upon a time, there dwelt in the
city yonder, it fisherman, whose name
was Hadjadoor. lie had recently got
married, lntt as his occupation called
him forth at dawn and occupied him
till sunset, he was never at home, and
consequently never saw his wife, ex
cept at night. But he possessed such
perfect confidence in her, that her be
ing left so much alone, gave him no
uneasiness whatever.
‘hie morning as he was going out as
usual, he put his bread and olives, ac
cording to his custom, into his pouch
for luncheon, and also added upon this
occasion, the half of a very remarka
ble fish which he had brought home
the night belbre the last. Wearied
with his toils, he seated himself in a
shady spot, and prepared to make his
luncheon, wishing, for hospitality sake,
that lie had some guest to share it with,
whoalso might, perhaps, add something
u little finer to the feast, from his own
provisions. And even so it happened,
that at that moment there approached
a person of respectable aspect, after
some conversation with whom, the
fisherman concluded to invite him to
share his repast. “1 have some bread
uud olives, and a piece of lish,” said
the fisherman, drawing forth the con
tents of his pouch, “which you are wel
come to share ; and if you can add
anything to give an air of greater lux
ury to the feast, 1 invite you to do so;
and if you have nothing to contribute,
then fall too heartily upon what you
see before you, and may God give you
a good appetite !”
“1 accept your invitation said the
stranger,seating himself, —“yourviands
require uoaddition whatever; the bread
is excellent, the olives are line, and bet
ter fish 1 could not desire. In truth, l
have nothing in my own wallet except
a bit of cheese, and also a certain piece
of fish.”
1 hereupon he produced the cheese
a,l| l the piece of fish, and laid them
besiJ e the fisherman’s provisions.—
Ifie cheese did not attract the partic
■ar attention of the fisherman, but the
P‘ e ce of fish did. It was the half of a
llsh i the half of a remarkable fish; it
‘'asu fish of the same species with that
to w hich the half of the fisherman’s
“wrnfish belonged; and, moreover, it
appeared, being the head, to match as
exactly with the piece w'hich the fisher
!liu“ had brought, being the tail, as
a fmm mi,, mwm n Lin-mm. t m Am am mmm, Am m mmw* wwMmw&
though these two pieces had originally
belonged to each other, and consequent
ly one and the same fish, precisely di
vided in half The fisherman could
not resist a desire which he had con
ceived to fit the two pieces of fish to
gether, they joined with the most com
plete exactness, and matched with the
most matchless accuracy. “God is
great!” said the fisherman, “and there
is no limit to the wonders and myste
ries of the Universe.”
“What particular reflection produced
that remark ?” asked the stranger, who
was very much engaged at the moment
in picking out the finest olives.
Thereupon the fisherman directed his
attention to the remarkable coinci
dence of the fish. ‘‘This appears to be
a very mysterious occurrence,” said
the stranger, “I could suppose that
those two pieces of fish belonged to
each other.”
“1 could almost swear to it;” replied
the fisherman, “but if you will have
the kindness to recall to your recollec
tion the place and person that furnished
you with your purchase, perhaps some
light may Ire thrown upon this transac
tion.”
“Nothing can be easier than to eluci
date my part of it,” said the stranger,
“for 1 did not purchase the fish, but it
was given to me by my wife.”
“And what became of the other
half'?” asked the fisherman.
“That, it is impossible for me to tell,”
replied the stranger, “seeing that I have
never seen it. But upon leaving my
wife, 1 asked for some thing to eat, to
put into my wallet, and she furnished
me with that piece of fish, precisely as
you see it there lying before you.”
“This increases the mystery greatly,”
said the fisherman, “for in precisely the
same manner as you describe, did I re
ceive my piece of fish from my wife.
But I carried it home whole ;.l brought
away the tail; and behold ! here comes
the head from your wallet to meet it.
This requires considerable investigation,
and 1 pray God that the affair may
turn out prosperously. Have you any
objection to our going to our respec
tive wives, and enquiring the fate of
the other halves of our respective
pieces of fish ?”
“None in the world,” answered the
stranger, “I shall only be too happy to
see to the bottom of this extraordina
ry occurrence. But 1 have always ob
served that affairs in which women are
concerned, are accustomed to be mys
terious and exceedingly difficult of elu
cidation.”
“But there is no reason,” said the
fisherman, “why we should not quietly
finish our repast, before we proceed to
examine this miracle of the age.”
“And now,” said the fisherman, when
they were ready to proceed, each hav
ing deposited in his pouch the half of
the fish which he had brought, “where
do you reside?”
“I reside, that is, when at home with
my wife,” said the stranger, “in such a
quarter, and in such a street of the
quarter, and moreover, in such and
such a house, exactly opposite to the
fountain.”
“Mashallah /” exclaimed the fisher
man, “the mystery becomes more deep
ly complicated. You have precisely de
scribed niv own residence! What is
*
the name of your wife?”
“Iler name is nothing else than Sir
poohireplied the stranger.
“This is evidently an affair of magic
and enchantmentsaid the fisherman.
“You have mentioned nothing else than
the name of my own wife.”
“I have never met,” the stranger re
marked, “with a more unintelligible,
and perplexing, and uncommon cir
cumstance than this affair of the fish.
Unless indeed, the ginns have a finger
in it, it is impossible but that there
should be some mistake under which
either you or 1, or both of us are la
bouring. Let us hasten to the house,
and endeavour to discover to which of
us it belongs, or whether it belongs at
all to either; and, also, let us prose
cute the same discovery with regard to
the wife; if, indeed, we should find any
house or wife at all to examine.”
The stranger conducted the fisher
man to a certain street of a certain
qnarter of the city, and paused before
a certain dwelling.
“That is my house;” said he.
“That is my house !” echoed the fish
erman.
“Let us pursue this investigation
further;” said the stranger, and he pro
ceeded to rap at the door. A lattice
was opened above, and a female ap
peared and demanded who knocked,
and what was their business.
“Sirpoohl!” called the stranger, and
the woman looked forth like a full
blown tulip—“ That is my wife,” said
the stranger to the fisherman.
“Sirpooh!! t hat is my wife!” echoed
the fisherman.
“Ravishcr of hearts,” said the stran
ger to the female, holding up the head
of the fish, “tell me, I conjure you, by
the clear waters of Nilufer, where is
the other half of this mysterious fish?”
“Enchantress of the world,” said the
fisherman to the female, holding up the
tail of the fish ; “reveal, 1 beseech thee,
by the lakes and rivers, where is the
other half of this enchanted fish ?”
The woman appeared to be struck
with exceeding amazement, and ex
claimed, “I perceive that lenigmas are
to be solved, and great revelations are
at hand. The fact is, that those parts
are of one and the same fish, and each
of you received them from my hands.”
“This must be a singular dream !”
exclaimed the stranger.
“This is manifestly a remarkable af
fair of magic!” exclaimed the fisher
man.
“Not at all, 1 can assure you ;” said
the female, “the truth of the matter is
simply this: you, my adored lord,
Iladjadoor the fisherman, being occu
pied with your trade all day, and conse
quently being absent from home from
dawn to dusk, are my much honoured
Night-husband ; while you, my worship
ped master, llaroiin the robber, keep
ing house by day, and pursuing your
profession from dusk to dawn, are my
greatly cherished Day-husband. Re
flect upon this explanation, dearest
lights of my soul, and judge whether by
means of it, you can elucidate the sin
gular concurrence of the two parts of
the divided fish. And moreover, de
liberate between yourselves upon the
present posture of affairs, and if you
come to any satisfactory agreement, in
form me of it, that I may conduct my
self according ; but if, unhappily, you
should find yourselves unable to arrange
matters in a manner perfectly agreea
ble to both of you, you have only to
give me a divorce which I will demand,
and I will return to my father’s house.
God grant, jewels of my heart, that
you may speedily arrange matters in
the most delightful manner possible,
so that the yoke of concord may not
be loosed from the amicable necks of
the coursers of harmony ! And, mean
time, I will meddle no further in the
affair.” So saying, she withdrew and
closed the lattice.
“Who ever heard of a Day-husband
and a Night-husband!” remarked the
fisherman.
“Who ever heard of a Night-hus
band and a Day-husband !” observed
the stranger.
“What is to be done now?” asked
the fisherman.
“A certain conception has occurred
to me,” returned the other, “by which
I think that we shall be able to arrange
this business upon a firm and satisfac
tory basis.”
“Then, by all means, let us hear it
instantly,”
“1 would propose,” said the robber
—for such was his profession as the fe
male had intimated—“that each of us
give a certian proof of his finesse, by
performing some remarkable trick of
dexterity, aid whichever shall prove
the most accomplished, shall have the
woman, or leave it for her to decide
how the affair shall be settled.”
“Very well,” returned the fisher
man, “and as you are known to be cel
ebrated for your skill in such opera
tions, I propose that you first show
your dexterity ; for I wish to reflect
upon what exhibition of talent I should
undertake.”
“Come along, then,” said the robber,
“and let us look out for a favourable
opportunity.”
The robber drew around him his
great coat, muffled his head and fea
tures in its hood, and accompanied by
the fisherman, perambulated the streets
for some time, occasionally entering
various coffee-shops, and listening for
some, time to the conversation.
The fisherman at length was just be
ginning to grow impatient, when the
robber remarked to him, “I have just
heard certain observations in the coffee
shop we recently left, which will enable
me to gratify you by a very striking
performance. On one side of the cof
fee-shop is the room of the Pasha’s
banker, and just opposite to it is the
public chamber of the Pasha himself.
Ilis secretary is just on the way to the
banker to procure a sum of money, for
which the Pasha has immediate use to
pay to an individual who is waiting for
it with the Pasha in the public cham
ber there. The secretary is at present
taking a pipe in the coffee-shop, and
will immediately come forth to proceed
to the banker’s. I shall seat myself
here in this narrow entrance to the
banker’s room, and I advise you, as
soon as the secretary appears, to follow
him quietly and observe the progress
of events, and do not cease following
him nor lose sight of him until the ad
venture is accomplished.” So saying,
the robber took his position, and at
that moment the secretary came out of
the coffee-shop, and proceeded to enter
the banker’s room. The fisherman
followed him with attentive observa
tion, as he had been directed by the
robber, and saw him receive from the
banker a bag of money, which thrust
ing into his bosom, he took his way to
the Pasha’s chamber. The fisherman
CHARLESTON, SATURDAY, MARCH 29, 1851.
following him, perceived him approach
the Pasha, and with a profound selam,
draw forth from his bosom a bag, which
instead of presenting to his master, he
felt, with the most evident astonish
ment and confusion, and hastily open
ing it, he produced therefrom an enor
mous turnip.
“In the name of the Holy Prophet!”
exclaimed the Pasha, “have you gone
mad, Yusef? What fools’ tricks are
you playing here? If you do not im
mediately give me the money, I’ll have
you bastinadoed to a jelly.”
“Effendim,” said the secretary, “there
is some strange mistake here which I
do not comprehend. Pardon me, ar.d
have a moment’s patience, and I will
rectify this circumstance before your
Excellency can blow your honourable
nose. So saving, he thrust the unfor
tunate bag into his bosom, and rushed
to the hanker in an exceedingly excited
frame of mind. The fisherman follow
ed him.
“Oh ! counterfeit scamp of a banker!”
cried the secretary to the surprised
financier. “Is this a time to be play
ing your legerdemain deviltries when
my master is waiting for the money?
Give it to me quickly, and no more
fooleries, or I shall nail your ears to
your counter.”
“What do you mean ?” exclaimed
the banker. “Are you trying to cheat
me ? My clerks here saw me pay you
the money ; and it was good coin and
of till I tale, and 1 should like to know
what fault the Pasha can find with it,
unless your light fingers have been at
some roguery.”
“Do you call this good coin, O ! cop
per-nosed son of a bad para !” cried
the secretary, pulling from his bosom
a bag, which was the identical bag he
had received from the banker.
“And what is the matter with the
coin ?” demanded the banker, examin
ing the bag, and finding that the seal
had not been disturbed—“look here, if
you want to play fool and donkey, you
must not come to respectable persons
to exhibit your tricks, or you may be
compelled to eat a considerable quan
tity of stick.”
“Excuse me,” said the secretary,
with visible mortification ; “a certain
singular occurrence which took place
just now in my master’s chamber,
somewhat disturbed my presence of
mind. I wish you a good day, and 1
shall instantly carry this money to the
Pasha.” So he replaced the bag in his
bosom, and followed by the fisherman,
he returned to the Pasha’s presence.
“Come, quick, give me the money !”
cried the Pasha, as the secretary ap
proached, and before he could perform
the requisite selams. The secretary in
haste drew from his bosom a bag, but
no sooner had he felt it, even before it
was fairly out of the folds of his entari,
than he turned pale, trembled violent
ly, and exhibited the aspect of an un
happy sinner who suddenly perceives
the Angel of Death awaiting him.
“In the name of the Devil! What
does all this mean ?” cried the Pasha,
“more vegetables? Open that bag im
mediately, you green-grocer’s dog!”
The trembling secretary could scarce
ly obey the command, but he drew
forth an immense beet, and entirely
overwhelmed by his calamitous situa
tion, he could only articulate—“ There
is no power or strength but in God
alone!”
“What can the fellow mean ?” ex
claimed the Pasha. “He is either
drunk, or is gone mad, or is trying to
play the rogue ; and in either case the
bastinado is a very approved and ne
cessary remedy. Give him fifty on
the spot, and then I shall make some
enquiries.”
The secretary prostrated himself be
fore the Pasha, and begged for mercy,
and related what had happened, and
expressed his conviction that this was a
work of magic and enchantment. So
the Pasha reflected upon the circum
stances, and commanded the secretary
to arise instantly, and to go and bring
the banker before him without delay,
and also not to fail to bring the money
with him likewise. So putting the un
happy bag in his bosom, and still fol
lowed by the fisherman, the secretary
once more returned to the banker’s
room.
“Are you a magician, or a son of a
ginn, or a devil, O ! accursed banker!”
cried the secratary in a state of very
considerable mental agitation,“that you
thus plot against my peace and safety ?
Where is the money which I carried
from here ? And why do you perform
upon me these disagreeable operations?”
“What now?” exclaimed the aston
ished banker. “Who should know, but
yourself, where the money is, which I
paid you ? And what do you assert
that I have done to you ?”
“Take back this bag instantly,” re
plied the secretary, putting his hand
into his bosom, “and give me the
money, or I will beat you, magic or no
magic, and if you repeat your tricks I
will certainly beat you at all events.”
He drew forth, however, the sealed
bag containing the money, which he
had at first received from the banker,
for he found no other in his bosom.
“\\ hat is the matter with this mon
ey,” asked the banker, “that you thus
persist in carrying it backwards and
forwards? What objection to it does
the Pasha make?”
“None,” replied the secretary, “for
he lias never yet been able to see it.
This bag of money is, without doubt,
enchanted.” And the secretary there
upon detailed the extraordinary adven
ture which had befallen him, and like
wise communicated the Pasha’s order,
that the banker should appear before
him.
‘’ This certainly belongs to the mys
terious events of the age;” observed
the banker, “but give me the bag, and
I will carry it myself to his Excellency,
and do you take also this other bag
containing a similar sum and carry it
yourself. Perhaps by this precaution,
we may avoid the prodigies which have
occurred to you, and succeed in getting
to the hands of the Pasha, the amount
which he requires.” So each of them
placing a bag of money in their bo
soms, they proceeded, followed by the
observant fisherman, to the presence of
the Pasha.
“What is the meaning of all this
foolery ?” demanded the Pasha, as they
approached him. “If you have not
now brought me the money, by the
Holy Prophet’s sacred beard, I’ll coin
both of you up into dog’s meat!”
“Your Excellency knows,” said the
banker, “that it is vain to contend with
fate and enchantments. Whatever
must happen, will; and I hope that this
time, at least, your Excellency will ob
tain the sum for which you are waiting.”
So saying, the banker drew forth a bag
—but his countenance gathered black
ness, and his knees shook in their sock
ets, as he opened the bag and produced
the abominable turnip.
“Dog!” exclaimed the Pasha in an
ger and surprise.
“I feel another bag, Effendim !” gasp
ed the astounded banker, as he drew
forth another, and almost loosed the
cords of life, upon taking out of it the
accursed beet. “I am a dead ass!”
groaned the banker. “Yusef, what
have you got in your unhappy bosom?”
The Pasha was mute with rage and
amazement; and the secretary partially
recovering from the oblivious effeot of
his unparalled astonishment, thrust his
trembling and misgiving hand into his
bosom, and drew with a cry of wonder,
both of the bags of money, exactly in
the condition in which they had been
taken from the banker’s room.
“It is well that the money has come
at last;” said the Pasha, “it is better
that it has come doubled; and it will
be best to prevent these devilishly dis
posed vegetables from playing any
more pranks. Bring them hither.”
His Excellency took them in his
hands, and presenting one apiece to the
banker and the secretary, he uttered
the command—“ Eat!”
“Cholera! your Excellency!” mur
mured the banker.
“Cholic! Effendim!” muttered the
secretary.
“Eat!” cried the Pasha sternly,
“and then we will proceed to investi
gaie this remarkable occurrence.”
At this moment the fisherman felt
himself pulled from behind, and per
ceiving that it was the robber, he quiet
ly slipped away. “Well,” said the
robber as they proceeded along the
street, “what is your opinion of my lit
tle performance ?”
“I have never witnessed a more as
tonishing display of skill;” replied the
fisherman, “but 1 am, nevertheless, of
opinion that I shall be able to surpass
your achievement.”
“Set about it then, speedily,” return
ed the robber, “and let us see what
your intelligence can accomplish.”
So the fisherman led the robber
about the city, until the shades of eve
ning began to invest everything with a
sombre hue. He then took his way
directly to the grounds of the Pasha’s
palace, and was proceeding to climb
over a broken part of the wall into the
gardens, when the robber demanded—
“ Where are you going ? I am under
the impression, that my peculiar pro
fession renders this rather unsafe ground
for me to appear upon.”
“As you please;” said the fisher
man, “but as you selected the Pasha’s
banker and secretary for the display of
your genius, I had determined to ex
hibit mine upon no other subject than
the Pasha himself. It is known that
he always at this hour, indulges himself
in a certain kioshk in the garden, and
thither I was about to proceed, in or
der to look out for a suitable opportu
nity of manifesting my ingenuity. If,
however, you are afraid to venture,
you can relinquish the w ife to me, and
confess that you could not contend with
me in dexterity.”
“Will no other subject suit you ?”
asked the robber; “can you be pre
vailed upon to make no other trial
whatever ?”
“I am not a man of many devices
and much practice, as yourself,” an
swered the fisherman, “and nothing can
induce me to contend with you in any
trial but the one I now propose. I
must do my best in a trial of art with
one so accomplished as yourself; and
I shall consider it exceedingly uncour
teous if you object to the performance
I have selected, unless you forego all
claim to the wife.”
“Proceed then, I beg you,” replied
the robber, “for I assure you that I
really esteem the woman as wmrthy of
some personal risk.”
They then entered the garden, and
cautiously threading its thickly grown
lanes, approached the kiOshk in w hich
they perceived a light. Upon drawing
near, they perceived a cook by the
door of the kioshk engaged in roasting
a goose, and within the apartment sat
the Pasha dozing over his tehibouk,
while his dwarf was seated on the floor
before him, telling a story to his half
unconscious master. Nowit happened
that the cook was an acquaintance of
the fisherman, so the latter making a
certain signal, drew the attention of
the cook and beckoned to him. The
robber thought it most prudent to keep
concealed amidst a thicket, while the
fisherman, producing a bottle, said to
the cook—“ 1 have brought you here,
O ! friend of my soul, some of the
finest rum which ever accompanied the
missionaries from the Yeni Dunia.* —
lake it, and comfort your heart with
its delicious fragrance.”
“O ! master of my life!” exclaimed
the cook, seizing the bottle, “it is more
fragrant than the musk of Rhoten, and
it tastes—O ! beverage of Paradise!
Raki and amberiye are ditch-water com
pared w ith it! Here, just attend to
that goose, and see that it don’t burn,
while I perform a certain experiment
with this magical liquor.”
So the fisherman attended to the
goose, while the cook proceeded to
drink the contents of the bottle so
rapidly, that his ecstatic soul was speed
ily whirled into the vague regions of
unconsciousness. Thereupon the fish
erman called forth the robber, and com
mitting to his hands the care of the
goose, he crept softly into the open
kioshk. Ihe Pasha was nodding over
his half extinguished tehibouk, and the
dwarf was nodding over his neglected
story. A cord depended from a pulley
in the ceiling immediately over the
head of the dwarf; it was intended to
support a lamp, which, upon the pres
ent occasion, however, w r as not found
appended to it. The fisherman attach
ed to this cord a zembil (or basket)
which he had beneath his cloak; and
as the Pasha and the dwarf were drink
ing oblivion of the cares of the world,
from the deep goblet of Sleep ; the
fisherman deposited the dwarf in the
zembil, gently drew him up near to the
ceiling, secured the cord around its
proper pin, and seated himself upon
the spot which the dw’arf had occu
pied.
“Bring me the goose, as soon as it
is done,” he called to the robber, “and
don’t let it burn, I entreat you.”
“What is that?” said the Pasha,
without opening his eyes, and being
only partially recalled to consciousness
by the voice of the fisherman.
“It is a part of the story, Effendim;”
remarked the fisherman, imitating the
voice of the Pasha’s dwarf. So the
Pasha slept on, and the robber contin
ued roasting the goose.
“Don’t let the goose burn !” the fish
erman called to the robber.
“What is that? Goose burn !” mur
mured the slightly roused Pasha.
“It is a part of the story, Effendim;”
said the fisherman. So the Pasha con
tinued to sleep, and the robber to roast
the goose.
“It must be done now,” called the
fisherman to the robber, “so I’ll thank
you to bring the goose.”
“Goose—goose!” muttered the Pa
sha —“goose again!”
“It is a part of the story, Effendim,”
said the fisherman.
“Very—stupid—story j” observed
the Pasha, nodding over every word,
and relapsing into slumber immediate
ly-
The fisherman made a motion to the
robber to bring the goose without de
lay : and the robber being exceedingly
curious to witness the progress of the
adventure, softly brought the goose to
the fisherman, but being under the im
pression that this was a very perilous
affair, he instantly withdrew to the door
without uttering even a whisper.
The fisherman quietly proceeded to
eat the goose, and when he had finished,
he piled up the bones just iu the spot
where he had been sitting, and retreat
ing to the door, he cried out with a loud
voice—‘‘And he left the bones of the
goose there!”
“More goose!” said the Pasha rub
bing his eyes, “bones of the goose! Is
this story never to be finished !” and
*New World. The easterns say that rum,
sugar and missionaries form the staple exports
from America to Smyrna.
THIRD VOLUME.—NO. 48 WHOLE NO. 148.
he was about resigning himself again
to sleep, when the fisherman called
out—
“lt is an essential and very peculiar
part of the story, Effendim ; and he left
the bones of the goose there !”
“It it a part of the story that comes
in very often said the Pasha rousing
himself, —“left the bones of the goose
there! That reminds me —be done
with the story, and let us have supper.”
“The story is donecried the fish
erman in his loudest tone, for the Pa
sha was yet only half awake—“the
story is done; the supper is served ;
and he left the bones of the goose
there!”
“Left the bones of the goose ?” ex
claimed the Pasha, sitting bolt upright
and staring around. “Left the bones
of the goose— there!” cried he with a
great start as his eyes fell upon the
pile of bones before him. “Ho ! Os
man !” shouted he, clapping his hands.
“Where are you ?”
“Here I am, Effendim cried the
dwarf popping his head over the edge
of the zembil, for the shout of the
Pasha had dissipated his lofty slum
bers.
“Where?” demanded the Pasha.
“Here uttered the dwarf in a dis
consolate tone, for he began to com
prehend the peculiarity of his situa
tion.
“By the suspended coffin of the Pro
phet, what are you doing there?” de
manded the Pasha, “and what is the
meaning of these bones ? and what
does the whole of this affair mean ?”
“1 do not understand it, your Excel
lency said the dwarf, “how I came
here, 1 know not; how those bones
came there, I know not, unless your
Excellency took supper while I was
asleep, and having eaten my share,
put me kindly out of the way, so as
not to disturb my slumber.”
“This belongs to the incomprehensi
ble circumstances of the age ; remark
ed the Pasha, “but down with you, and
command the cook to bring the goose
at once. After we have eaten it, I will
then make some inquiries.”
While uttering this remark, the Pa
sha let down the suspended dwarf, who
hastened to the door, and finding nei
ther cook nor goose, returned and in
formed the Pasha accordingly.
“This is another affair of vegetables,
I suppose,” observed the Pasha, “may
the Prophet grant that it be, and in
that case we shall have two geese in
stead of one. But now, by my beard,
and by the the Prophet’s beard, I
would give the supper, and almost for
give the sheitan who accomplished this
performance, to know the exact truth
of this mysterious occurrence.”
The fisherman, who heard this re
mark, (for he was near the door with
the robber, who would fain have retired
at this stage of the proceedings, had he
not been detained by his companion,
and been also fearful of exciting a noise
which might have brought the Pasha’s
guards,) now’ stepped into the apart
ment, and saluting the Pasha, exclaim
ed —“I can explain the whole affair to
your Excellency, and moreover, I can
also elucidate the circumstance of the
vegetables.” So dragging in the rob
ber, he detailed the whole history to
the Pasha concerning the fish, and the
w r ife, and the trial of dexterity. “And
now 7 ,” he concluded, “havingeaten your
Excellency’s supper, I leave it to you
to decide whether I have not surpassed
the performance of my companion ; he
only bamboozled your stupid secretary
and silly banker; I have reached the
summit of successful dexterity in bam
boozling your consummate wisdom
himself out of the goose—which was
excellent, I assure you, and done to a
turn —and moreover, I have expounded
mysteries, and solved cenigmas, which
otherwise, your Excellency would nev
er have fathomed.”
“I am of the same opinion myself,”
said the Pasha, “for I have an impres
sion that my police have long been baf
fled by the mysteries of that renowned
Ilaroun ; wherefore I shall thank you
to hand him over to the guard whom I
perceive the dwarf has summoned, and
upon receiving fifty strokes of the bas
tinado on account of the goose, you
shall also receive the reward long offer
ed for his apprehension, and you will
then betake yourself straightway to
your faithful Sirpooht. And, Osman,
order another goose immediately.”
Aghop paused.
“And the fisherman, Aghop,” said
the traveller, “was your honourable
uncle ?”
“Certainly, Effendim,” replied the
boy, “and there were some light ru
mours that Hadjadoor had not only
got Ilaroun out of the way, but had
also stepped into his professional shoes,
seeing that he was now left without a
rival in that difficult science.”
Whereupon the traveller made the
remark mentioned at the close of the
former article; and Aghop replied in
the words which were there also re
ported.
Jflisrrllnntj.
From the Home Journal.
THE NIGHT FUNERAL OF A
SLAVE.
Travelling recently, on business, in
the interior of Georgia, I reached just
at suuset the mansion of the proprie
tor, through whose estate, for the last
half hour of my journey, I had pursued
my way, my tired companion pricked
his ears up, and with a low whine indi
cated his pleasure as I turned up the
broad avenue leading to the house.—
Calling to a black boy in view 7, 1 bade
him inquire of his owner if I could be
accommodated with lodgings for the
night.
My request brought the proprietor
himself to the door, and from thence
to the gate. After a scrutinizing glance
at my person and equipments, he in
quired my name, business and destina
tion. I promptly responded to his
questions, and he invited me to alight
and enter the house, in the true spirit
of Southern hospitality.
He was apparently thirty years of
age, and evidently a man of education
and refinement. I soon observed an
air of gloomy abstraction about him ;
he said but little, and even that little
seemed the result of an effort to obvi
ate the seeming w 7 ant of civility to a
stranger. At supper, the mistress of
the mansion appeared, and did the hon
ours of the table, in her particular de
partment ; she was exceedingly lady
like and beautiful, as only Southern
women are, that is beyond comparison
with those of any other portion of this
republic I have ever seen. She retired
immediately after supper, and a servant
handing some splendid Habannas on a
silver tray, we had just seated ourselves
comfortably before the enormous fire
of oak wood, w hen a servant appeared
at the end door near my host, hat in
hand, and uttering in subdued but dis
tinct tones, the, to me, startling words,
“Master, de coffin hab come.”
“Very well,” was the only reply, and
the servant disappeared.
My host remarked my gaze of in
quisitive wonder, and replied to it—
“l have been very sad,” said he, “to
day. I have had a greater misfortune
than I have experienced since my fath
er’s death. I lost this morning, the
truest and most reliable friend I had in
the world —one whom 1 have been ac
customed to honour and respect since
my earliest recollectien; he was the
playmate of my father’s youth, and the
mentor of mine; a faithful servant,
and an honest man, and a sincere Chris
tian. I stood by his bedside to-day,
and with his hands clasped in mine, 1
heard the last words he uttered ; they
were, ‘Master meet mein heaven.’
His voice faltered a moment, and
he continued, after a pause, with in
creased excitement —
“His loss is a melancholy one to me.
If 1 left my house, I said to him, ‘John,
see that all things are taken care of,’
and I knew that my wife and child,
property and all, were as safe as if they
were guarded by a hundred soldiers. I
never spoke a harsh word to him in
all my life for he never merited it. I
have a hundred others, it is true, but
his loss is irreparable.”
I came from a section of the United
States where slavery does not exist,
and I brought with me all the preju
dices which so generally prevail in the
free States in regard to this inst itution.
I had already seen much to soften
these, but the observation of years
whould have failed to give me so clear
an insight into the relation between
master and servant, as this simple in
cident. It was not the haughty plan
ter the lordly tyrant, talking of his
dead slave, as of his dead horse, but
the kind hearted gentleman lamenting
the loss, and eulogizing the virtues of
his good old friend.
After an interval of silence, my host
resumed—
“ There are many of the old man’s
relatives and friends who would wish
to attend his funeral. To afford them
an opportunity, several plantations
have been notified that he will be
buried to-night; some, I presume have
already arrived, and desiring to see
that all things are properly prepared
for his interment, I trust you will ex
cuse my absence for a few moments.”
“Most certainly, sir; but,” I added,
“if there is no impropriety, I would be
pleased to accompany you.”
“There is none,” he replied; and I
followed him to one of a long row of
cabins, situated at a distance of some
three hundred yards from the mansion.
The house was crowded with negroes,
who all arose on our entrance, and
many of them exchanged greetings
with my host, in tones that convinced
me that they felt that he was an ob
ject of sympathy from them! The
corpse was deposited in the coffin, ah
tired in a shroud ot the finest cotton
materials, and the coffin itself painted
black.
The master stopped at its head, and
laying his hand upon the cold brow of
his faithful bondsman, gazed long and
intently upon the features with which
he had been so long familiar, and which
he now looked upon for the last time
on earth, raising his eyes at length,
and glancing at the serious countenan
ces now bent upon his, he said solemn
ly and with much feeling—
“He was a faithful servant and a
true Christian ; if you follow his ex
ample and live as he lived, none of you
need fear, when the time comes for you
to lay here.”
A patriarch, with the snow of eighty
winters on his head, answered—
“ Master, it is true, and w 7 e will try
to live like him.”
There was a murmur of general as
sent, and after giving some instructions
relative to the burial, we returned to
the dwelling.
About nine o’clock a servant ap
peared with the notice that they were
ready to move, and to know il furthei
instructions were necessary. My host
remarked to me, that by stepping into
the piazza, I would probably witness,