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VOL. 111.
T. S. WYNNE, W. •. DK WOLF,
JOHN H. MARTIN, JOHN •. BTKWA-BT.
Wynne, DeWolf & Cos.
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WASHINGTON NEWS.
UKM AMD or THE NEAT BONDHOLD
EBS.
TREASURY TO IBBUE FRACTIONAL CUR
RENCY.
Washington. Jane IC.—lt is stated
there was aa understanding that
Gen. Badeau should remain Consul
General to England—should he con
tinue In that office during the stay of
Gen. Grant in that country. Gen.
Dockerv will probably succeed.
The Syndicate are pressing Secre
tary Sherman for some official ex
pression that the four per cents shall
bear gold interest. There is no piob
ability that they will succeed, as
Sherman is determined to i take no
action which Congress may reverse.
Aspirants for positions abroad are
disappointed that Cabinet did not
find time to decide their cases in any
instance.
The New Yprk Custom House Cota
mission recoinfne’nde’d the dismissal
of ‘250 employees.
Gov. Noys, Minister to France, has
sailed.
Turkey -has given the State Depart
ment official notice it will respect
the Bed Geneva Cross as a protection
to hospital trains. Turkey will indi
cate her hospital trains by a red
crescent.
The President has commissioned
Robt. T. Smith Collector of Customs
for Mobile; and John Ferrenback
Supervising Inspector of steamboats
for the Sevent h district, including
Pittsburg, Wheeling and Cincinnati;
and John Oglesby Assistant Apprai
ser of merchandise at New Orleans.
The Attorney General decides that
Sherman may issue subsidiary or
fractional currency if he keeps with
in the limits of $50,000,000 fractional
circulation. The Secretary of the
Treasury has instructed the Treasur
er to act accordingly.
SITTING BULL AND HIS PEOPLE.
■■■- -9
THEY ARK IN TUB BRITISH BOS
SESSIONS.
Will Bull Fighting and Kemaln There.
Bismarck, D. TANARUS., Juno 16.—A tele
gram says Father Martin, of Stand
ing Rock, reached Bismarck on his
return from a visit to Sitting Bull.
He found him on Frenchman creek,
forty miles north of the British
American boundary. Sitting Bull re
fused to hold council with him except
in presence of one of the British offi
cers. Accordingly, after a delay of
one week, the attendance of several
was secured. After a long talk. Sit
ting Bull determined to quit fighting
and remain in British Possessions.
The officers assured him all would be
well if he behaved himself and did
not commit depredations on either
side of the line.
Sitting Bull’s followers are divided
into three bands and number in all
about32o lodges or 1,000 fighting men.
In crossing a river this spring, they
lost their ammunition, camp equip
age, &0., and many of their arms,
and are now in no condition to pur
sue the war-path.
FRANCE.
MCMAHON DEMANDS THE DISSOLUTION OF
THE CHAMBER.
Versailles, June 16.—0n the reas
sembling of the Deputies to-day, M.
Defourier, Minister of the Interior,
read a declaration announcing that
President McMahon had sent a mes
sage to the Senate informing that
body of his intention to dissolve the
Chamber by virtue of powers confer
red upon him by the constitution,
and demanding the concurrence of
the Senate.
Versailles, June 16.—1n the Henate
Deßroglie read President MacMa
hon’s message informing that body
of his intention to dissolve the Cham
ber of Deputies, and demanding the
concurrence of the Senate. After
the reading the Senate decided to re
fer the question of dissolution to the
Bureau.
Mixed HU Wife and Killed a Child.
Wilmington, Del., June 16.—This
afternoon Jonathan Graves, colored,
living near this city, quarreled with
his wife and fired a gun at her. The
contents (bird shot) lodged in the
head of his grandchild, Susan Se
gars, aged, eleven yeprs, killing her.
Graves has given himself up. He
asserts that he merely wished to
frighten his wife, and that the gun
was discharged accidentally.
THE WAR IN EUROPE.
Attempt to Gross the Danube Hourly
Expected.
DUPERATE FIOHTINO I.UOKEIt
NK.
GREECE GIVING TROUBLE.
THE CROSSING to BE BELOW IBRIAL.
London, June 10.—It is reported
that Gortschakoff.in his reply to Eng
land, disavows any intention to oc
cupy Constantinople, declaring that
city ought belong to none of the Eu
ropean powers.
At the latest advices the Montene
grins had not been entirely driven
from Duga Pass.
It is considered that the favorable
progress of the war in Montenegro
will enable the Turks now fighting
there to operate on the Russian right
wing when it crosses the Danube.
The Danube falls slowly.
A dispatch from Shumala says an
attempt to cross is hourly expected.
Great excitement prevails at Sburnu
la and Rutchuk. A dispatch says
desperate fighting is short ly expect
ed.
Constantinople, June 10.—There is
great irritation over affairs in Greece.
Orders have been sent to Montene
gro to hasten pacification, in order to
send troops to Thessaly and Epiruza.
The Sisters of Mercy, who recently
arrived, are visiting the camps and
various hospitals; from which it is
thought there are a good many sick,
though the Russians do their utmost
to prevent the obtaining of informa
tion on that subject.
London, June 10. —The person
calling himself Baron Iverant Hes
sian, nobleman arrested as a Turkish
spy some days ago at Plokesat by
the Russians, has not been shot as
stated.
A special dispatch from Lam, pub
lished in the second edition of the
Telegraph, says, from the latest in
formation it appears that the Rus
sians have definitely determined to
make the passage of the Danube
midway between Piketir, und Tumu
magureli. Propositions indicate
early operations.
The Vienna Press states that staffs
of the various Russian corps are now
located at Bucharest, Kulasash, Sun
otiza, Turna, Magolia, Russevoda, Al
exandria, Routnania and Guergevo.
The News’ correspondent writes:
Rafts which the Russians have been
constructing below Galatz, are ready
for bridging purposes, and large
numbers are being turned up to Ib
rail. This quite supported the gen
eral opinion that the crossing will
take place at Ghiacet, below Ibrail.
MICIIIU4N REPUBLICANS.
They Will Mund toy tlie AdiulnUtrn
tlmi.
Detroit, Mich., June 1G. —The Tri
bune publishes a number of letters
from leading Republicans of the
State in response to circulars asking
their opinion upon the President’s
Southern policy. Seventeen of the
letters coidially approve the policy
a3 the only wise and just course.
Eight gave qualified approval, with
regret at some of the results. Three
are doubtful. All, however, are
warmly in favor of standing by the
President and the Administration.
A FOOLISH tollt'lUK.
Pathetically Void.
Washington, June 16. Robert
Ritcher, elerk in the War Depart
ment, fouud his home pleasure in
planting tomatoes. His wife found
hers in breeding cuts. He molested
the cats; she tore up his tomato vines.
Ritcher, stationing himself in the
midst of hi3 demolished tomato
vines, and said, “Now you see me,”
and shot off the top of his head, leav
ing three little children and a fren
zied widow. Ritcher was a quiet, in
dustrious and upright man.
Knultt’k Aiiuritnce* to England.
Paris, June IG.—The Russian Tele
graphic Agency publishes the follow
ing : Count Schouvaloff is to assure
the route to India by way of the Suez
Canal, and the Persian Gulf is free;
that tactics will be observed, and
that the question of the Bosphorus
and Dardanelles will be settled at
the end of the war by an European
Congress. Beyond these points no
engagement has been undertaken.
The assertion that Russia will con
fine herself at the conclusion of peace
to apply the resolutions adopted by
the late conference is, therefore, not
correct.
Pontmiuter at MemphU.
Memphis, June 16.—R. A. Thomp
son, one of the Proprietors of the
Avalanche has received the appoint
ment as Postmaster of this city ; and
has forwarded his bond. Mr.
Thompson is a journalist by profes
sion, and has been connected with
the Avalanche fbr many years. ’
|
Daniel Webster’s repairing tailor
in Washington was a German who
bore the euphonious name of Utter
muhle. He made a mistake in an en
largement of a pair of pants, and
Webster called him an utter jackass.
COLUMBUS, GA., SUNDAY MORNING, JUNE 17, 1877.
THE RICH MERCHANT OF CAIRO.
I From ail old Magazine)
A great while ago—leveral hundred years
: at least—there lived in Cairo a rich merch
ant whore name was Abdallah. He had
i other names besides, as is the custom theie,
J hut none that added to his reputation or
j credit. He was commonly called Abdal
lah the Rich, and sometimes Abdallah the
! Miserly.
From boyhood almost he had been engaged
[in tralic, and always successfully. Shilt as
it might the wind was still favorable to
some of his ships, and ventures which ruined
other merchants overflowed his coders with
gold. The blue Mediterranean reflected the
gleam of his sails. Nile, the father of rivers,
was shadowed bv the swarthy faces of the
slaves who rowed his boats and the burning
sands of the desert were trampled by the feet
of his caravans.
His emissaries were known in the bazars
of Delhi and Damascus, in the spicy forests
of Ceylon and among the pearl divers of the
far Indian seas. They even traded, it is said,
with the natives of Timbuctoo, that myste
rious city whose existence has so often been
denied. Abdallah, however, bad never quit
ted Cairo, the city of his birth. He knew
too well the dangers and hardships of travel
to think of exposing his precious person to
them. He had but to name a place to his
agents and say, “Go there,"’ and they went.
His bazars were in different parts of the
city, but his home, like that of every good
Turk, was in the Turkish quarter. It was
three stories in height, and the upper stories
projected over the lower ones, casting a
shadow, even at noonday, on the street be
low The walls were originally white,
with horizontal bars of crimson, like the
stripes a flag, but years had elapsed since
they were painted, and they were kept in
such bad repair that it was hard to say what
color they really were-—a smoky yellow or
a muddy red.
Along the front of the mansion, on a level
with the floor of the two upper stories, ran
a couple of balconies closely shut in with
lattice work. You see such lattice work in
most Oriental pictures—they are made of
ihm s!ips or wood like our lath, and cross
each other diamond-wise. Save the arch
over the door, which was elaborately carved
and illuminated with gold letters —a text
from the Koran—there was nothing about
the outside of the house to stamp tts owner
a wealthy man. Inside, however, it was
apparent, and all was rich and beautiful.
Like many other mean and selfish men,
(Abdallah was at heart sensual and luxurious.
His floors were carpeled with the richest
stuffs ol the East, brilliant in dye and soft
as flowers to the leet. Where the marble
pavement was seen, as it was in some rooms
which were merely strewn with mats, it was
cunningly inlaid with mosaics. Couches
and divans softer than down lined the walls,
and cabinets were filled with chibouques
and beautiful Persian pipes, whose water
bowls were buried in the long coil ot their
stems.
You passed from room to room by gliding
between pillars and by pushing aside cur
tains. Over the curtains rose magnificent
arches of the finest and costliest workm in
step. Spicy carpets hung Irom the ceiling
and lanternsof divers colors dangled on gol
den chains. Pictures and statues there were
none, both being forbidden by the Koran,
but vases and cups abounded; vases of ex
quisite pattern, gold and silver, heaped with
precious stones, pearls, rubies and emeralds;
and cups which a king might have drained.
And Abdallah did drain them daily, so fond
was he of his vault of old Greek wine. But
it was not within doors, after all, that Ab
dallah’s wealth was most apparent, hut in
his garden, which was the finest in ail Cairo.
It was situated at the back of the house, and
was walled with a high wall. A forest
could not have been more shady or pleasant,
so thick and leafy were the trees, palms,
accasias and sycamores, and so cool the
winds imprisoned in their green retreats.
The walks were hedged with roses and jessa
mines and roofed with the branches of fruit
trees. Here hung the golden quince, there
tne bloom cheeked peach, and there purple
plums and red pomegranates.
In the centre ot the garden was a kiosk,
or Turkish summer-house, a miracle ol
grace and beauty. It Was square, with four
pil'ars on each side, and a fretted dome over
head. The pillars supported Saracenic arch
es, through which came gleams of the gar
den around, and the mingled scene ol its
flowers. From a black marble urn in the
basin of the kiosk gushed a sparkling foun
tain, a broad silver shaft wilh a willowy
base, that dripped hack into the urn, and
over its rim into the bubbling ripples below.
It was a nook of delight, and a perfect nest
of birds of the East. Some were inclosed
in cages of sandal-wood and pearl while
others were as fl ee as the air in which they
wantoned Peacocks strutted in and out,
spreading their gorgeous trains; golden phea
sants dreamed in the gloom of the dome;
parrots chattered and swung on their rings,
and birds of Paradise, with sweeping rain
bow tails, flew Irom perch to perch. Truly
it was an enchanted place, that garden and
house, and worthy of a better master than
Abdallah. Here Abdallah dwelt year alter
year.
No one shared his enjoyments save his
daughter Zouleika, and she only when he
was away. There was not much happiness
in the house where Abdallah was; be was so
selfish and exacting. It was impossible to
please him. He thought o! no one hut him
self, and his own gains and losses. He had
a wonderful head for accounts, and could
reckon untold sums as if by instinct. He
knew to a fraction how much every debtor
owed him, and how much it cost l-irn to just
keep his slaves alive. When the day s bus
iness was over and he smoked his bubbling
pipe and quaffed his cup of Greek wine he
used to shut himself up in his room and
gloat over his gold. It was his god, and he
recognizer! po other, except he wished to
take a fflse oatß. Then he was protuse of
his “Bv Allahs!” and “the holy heard of the
Prophet!” Such was the man Abdallah, and
such his mode of life, up to the morning
when our story begins. Having anew
scheme on bapd he rose earlier than usual
that morning, performed his customary ab
lutions, and prepared to depart for the mar
ket-place.
Bofore setting forth he allotted their day’s
work, to . his , Servants and slaves; then he
charged his’daughter Zoulieka not to leave
the house during his absence, and finally,
after making everybody as miserable as pos
eible, he departed,.aqd the door was barred
behind him.
It was still early in Cairo, and but few of
j the better citizens had yet risen. Ihe streets
I were filled with the poorest classes, and they
| jostled Abdallah in passing He avoided
j them as much as possible, by picking the
least crowded thoroughfares and keeping
! close to the houses. Here sauntered a waler
i carrier with a jar poised upon his head, and
j there marched a string ot camels bound for
Siout and the desert. Artisans hurried to
' their work shops, rubbing tljeir eyes as they
went; donkeys lurned the Porners suddenly,
and nearly knocked him down; and to crown
I all, a pertinacious driver insisted upon hav
: ing his custom! He must have been a wag,
| or a stranger in Cairo, thet driver, to have
lor a moment imagined that Abdallah the
miser would ride. He knew the value of
money too well, however wearied he might
be, to think of spending it in that way. The
idea was absurd.
As 1 said before, the streets were filled
with the poorest classes, and the short turn
that Abdallah made to reach the market
place led him among their dwellings. He
had but little time for observation, so intent
was he in hatching his schemes, but he could
not help seeing the tilth and misery which
surrounded him. The houses were in a ruin
ous and tumble-down condition, many of
them without windows or doors —mere hov
els—and their dwellers w'ere in perfect keep
ing, lean, sallow and ragged.
Few ol the men were at home, for the day
being a festival, promised an abundant alms,
but he saw squalid children. Some ot the
women were busy with household matters,
kindling tires for the morning meal and men
ding rents in their garments; others sat in
the ashes, supine and dejected, their long
hair falling over their eyes and over the in
fants on their bosoms. These were the mo
thers and the grandmothers; if there were
girls in the family they were generally at
the windows ogling the passers-by and sing
ing ribald songs to entice them in. One
among the unmber arrested the sight of Ab
dallah, she was so much like his own child
Zouleika. She was just her height, although
her figure was frailer; had the same black
hair adorned with sequins amt the same lus
trous, large eyes and long lashes.
Zruleika, however, lacked the mingled
mirth and melancholy of her counterfeit, nor
was she ever seen, like her, at the balcony
unveiled.
The likeness puzzled Abdallah, but he
knew that Zouleika was safe at home, ami
his schemes came into his head again; so he
passed on and forgot it.
He had now reached a better portion of
the city, although he was still in the lieg
gais’ Quar'er. He stepped in the public
square and gazed about him. ILs vision
was bounded on all sidea by the white wall
of the city and the fringe of palms overlook
ing it. An open country lay on the north—
a region ot gardens and grain fields; on the
south and west, the shining lenglh of the
Nile flecked with sails, and the Pyramid,
loomed through the haze of the Libyan ties
ert. But the glory of the dawn was in the
east, in the serene blue sky and on the crests
of the Mokattam hills, which were tipped
with light. The sun had not yet risen, but
the domes of the mosques were brightening
and the minarets burned with rosy flames
The heart of Abdallah was glad within him,
he hardly knew why, and he went on his
way with a lij-hter and firmer step. To say
that he was depressed by the Beggars’ Quar
ter, or that he pitied its unfortunate dwellers,
would show but little knowledge of a nature
like his. Still, he felt happy in leaving
them behind him, and in comparing his con
dition with iheirs. He drew near the mar
ket-place in which his bazars were held,
wfien ahe was accosted by a beggar. “I am
poor,” said the beggar; “it is two days now
since I have tasted loud.” “What is that to
me?” inquired the merchant. “Abdallah the
rich, 1 am poor and hungry, and I demand
alms from thee!” Abdallah started back
amazed. He was not accustomed to de
mands; besides, lie had never before been
mimicked as lie was by the beggar; for the
voice of the latter was an exact echo of his
own. Nor did the imitation stop at his
voi:e—form, leatures, gait, eyervthiiig per
taining lo Abdallah, was reproduced with
strange fidelity. It was as if he saw him
self in a mirror, or stood beside himsell in a
dream! There was a difference, though, be
tween the beggar’s garments and his own
The merchant was dressed as became his
station and wealth, in a flowing robe, with
a rich sash around his waist, and a jewel
hi 1 ted dagger in his belt. His Turban was
a costly Cashmere shawl, and his slippers
were heavily embroidered with gold. The
beggar was clad in rags which failed to hide
his leanness, and he supported his tottering
limbs with a long staff His face was thin
and ghastly, and his eyes, that burned with
an unnatural lustre, were deeply sunken in
their sockets. He was like Abdallah, and
yet unlike; looking not so much as Abdal
lah did, as Abdallah might, should he, by
any chance, become a beggar. “Abdallah
the miserly,” said the beggar, “you are roll
ing in abundance, while I am starving with
want. Help me, or I die.” “You are mis
taken in thinking me rich,” said she covet
ous merchant. “True, I have the reputation
of wealth, but everybody knows the uncer
tainty ol a merchant’s business. To day he
is rich, to-morrow poor. But admitting
lhat I am rich, my money is my awn, I owe
it entirely to my own exertions, and not to
others. I cannot help you, so let me pass.”
“But I am dying,” persisted the beggar
“Again I say, what is that to me?” “Listen
to me. Abdallah,” said the excited beggar
shaking his skinny finger in the face of the
merchant. “Listen to me, hard-hearted man,
and tremble. You refuse me, your fellow
man, bread, and you arrogate to yoursell
your good fortune. "These are deadly sins
and must he atoned for. God gave you pros
perity; he can give you adversity aa well,
arid he does; from this hour there is a spell
upon you.” The merchant turned in wrath,
and was about to smite the beggar when he
saw ihe Captain of the Sultan s Guard ap
proaching in the distance. In spite of him
self he shuddered and turned pale. He did
not for an instant believe the beggar's pro
phccy, but he knew that no man's life was
sate if it were known that he was rich, and
the Sultan was in want of money. “I he
curse is beginning to work, Abdallah, ' said
the beggar, tauntingly, hut Abdallah was
too much troubled to hear him. He ran
over in his mirid all his late business trans
actions; to see how far the worst had in
fringed the law, and wondered which one
ol his many agents was most likely to be
tray him, and whether, if the worst came to
the worst, he could manage to escape with
life. “Perhaps I may escape even now,”
said he to himself; but no—the Guard was
too close. Besides, he reasoned, if I attempt
fight, it will seem to confirm suspicion
Bnt he could not have flown had he tried, lor
his feet were rooted to the He was
a grim-Jooking lellow, the Captain of the
guard, and his manner of arresting Abdal
lah was not calculated to set the latter at
his ease. He drew his long sword with one
hand, and clutched the merchant by the
wrist with the other, while the soldiers
sprang upon him from the opposite side,
and pinioned his arms behind him He was
then marched offin the direction of the Sul
tan’s palace. As might have been expected,
his arrest drew together a crowd. First and
foremost came the rabh.e from the Beggars
Quarter; children who broke off their plays
to revile him; women who ran to see if it
was lover or husband, and numbers of the
beggar-men, whom the news had already
reached. Among others was the girl who
so resembled Zouleika. It was strange, but
she was not in the least like her now. She
had lustrous eyes, long lashes and black
hair adorneit with sequins, but her face was
haggard with sensuality and distorted with
indecent mirth. She was no more like Zou
teika, the pure and beautiful Zouleika, than
a wanderitig comet, a hell ol aerial fire, is
like the moon, the silver Eden of night.
“This is marvellous, tnis change,” thought
Abdallah, and the beggar coming into his
mind he turned his head to see it he were
changed also, but lo! he had vanished.
The guard and their prisoner had now
reached the Sultan’s palace. It was a holi
day in Cairo and the square was tilled with
soldiers. Bodies of black troops were drawn
up in files on each side, while the center
was tilled by the dignitaries of the empire,
bashaws ol distant provinces, while bearded
old sheikhs of desert tribes and daring Mam
elukes. Beside the palace gate stood two
gigantic Nubian slaves, the executioners of
the Sultan, one swinging his bowstring" the
other poising an immense cimctar-
The gates were thrown open and the Sul
tan came forth to judgment. The Comman
der of the Faithful was mounted on a superb
Arab barb, whose neck arched proudly and
whose step disdained the earth. His turban
was covered with jewels, and it shone like a
constellation under his cloudy prime. His
caftan was green —the saertd color—but his
sash was deep red. it was an omnious color
with the Commander of the Faithful, for it
generally betokened the shedding of blood.
So his Court approached him with terror,
kissing his robe and feet and even the ground
before him. “Long life to the Sherecf! May
God prolong his days!”
Casting his eyes over the prostrate crowd
the Commander of the Faithlul saw Abdal
lah kneeling in the custody ot the Captain
of the Guard. He summoned the latter, and’
as he drew near, dragging the helpless cul
prit, beckoned the executioners Behold
Abdallah between them; in front ot the Sul
tan.
“Long life to the Shercei! May God pro
long his days!”
"We have heard of this man,” said the Sul
tan; “does any here know him? It is said
that he is r ch, very rich. It is a Iso said that
his riches are ill-gotten. If he has wronged
any here, even a slave, let the wronged man
step forth and accuse him. By the beard of
my father he shall have justice!”
The Sultan's words passed from mouth to
mouth until they reached the ears of a mer
chant who was passing the place. Embol
dened by the Sultan's permission, he ac
cused AbdaMah.
“Commander ofthe Faithful, the merchant
Abdallah owes me live purses of gold, which
he refuses to pay. He came to me one day
accompanied by a strange merchant, who,
he said, was his friend and who wished to
purchase sandal-wood and gums. I sold
him five purses’ worth, Abdallah agreeing
to pay me for the same in case his friend did
not. Twelve months have passed since then,
and I have not seen the m rehant, nor will
Abdallah pay me the debt.”
“Your case is hard,” said the Sultan,“but
we cannot help you. The law will do you
justice if you can prove your claim. VVe
give you a purse of gold that you may pros
ecute it freely.”
The next accuser was one of the Mame
lukes:
“Commander of the Faithful, this shop
keeper lately sold me a sword lor a true-
Damascus blade. I paid him his price with
out higgling, and went forth to battle wilh
the enemies of the Prophet. We were hard
pushed by the accursed Giaours, and tell
before them like ripe grain. A boy whom
I could have slain with the wind oi a good
cimetar engaged me, and snapping my sword
like a reed gave me this ugly gash on the
ckeek. 1 have no sword now; here is the
hilt of my famous Damascus blade,” and he
threw it at the feet of the Sultan’s barb;
• give me another, master, and I will punish
the lying shop-keeper,”
“You are a brave fellow Mameluke,”
said the Sultan, unbuckling his own sword
and handing it to the soldier; “wear this and
smite the Giaours. Leave the shop-keeper
to us.”
The soldier fell back in the ranks and the
Sultan made a sign to the slave with the
bowstring, who seized Abdallah and pre
pared to strangle him.”
The next accuser was one of the desert
sheikhs.
“Seven years ago,” he said, “there was a
famine among my people. 'I he tidings
reached Cairo, and this dog sent his agents
amongst us loaded with corn, not to relieve
our wants, but to rob us of our flocks and
herds. He built granaries in our midst and
tortured us with the sight of food which few
were rich enough to buy We implored the
assistance of other merchants and many at
tempted to help us, hut he drove them all
from the field, some by bribery and some by
underselling, till at last no one would ven
ture against him. The souls of our dead
cry out for jusiice—justice on the corn-sell
ing dog!” “We, too, have a cause of com
plaint,” said the Commander ol the Faithlul,
after a score or two had finished accusing
Abdallah. “This jew-el,” and he plucked
one from his turban, “was sold us by the
merchant for a pure diamond, and it turns
our to he a bit of glass. We gave him a
thousand pur es for what is not worth a pi
astre. To punish him for the cheat we con
fiscate his estate for the Prophet’s treasury,
and we seize his daughter lor the imperial
harem. As for the wretch himsell, he shall
become a slave. We give him To your tribe,
said the Sultan, turning to the desert sheikh;
“it is just that he should suffer, even as be
has made others. The dog is nßStonger Ab
dallah the merchant,but Abdallah the slave.”
“God is great! Long life to the Shereef!
May God prolong his days!"’ shouted the
crowd. The Sultan shook the reiris ol his
barb and rode down the square, accompanied
by his bashaws and Sueikhs. The Mame
lukes and black troops remaingd together
with Abdallah and the executioners. There
was no danger now in insulting h m, and
they made the most ot the opportunity. The
Marneiukes began by robbing him of ev
erything valuable. One snatched his turban,
another his sash, a third his jewel hilted dag
ger, and the fourth his purse, which he vain
ly attempted to conceal; the rest, meanwhile,
rode around him and pricked him with the
points of their long spears. He was then
handed over to the soldiers, and buffeted
about till his bones ached. When the sheikh
returned tor his slave he found him in a sorry
plight, for he was covered with blood and
bruises, and his garments were torn to tat
ters. Could hts counterfeit and second self,
the vanquished beggai, have seen him then,
even he must have pitied him, he was so
ragged and forlorn. It pleased the sheikh
to ride through Cairo before he started for
the desert, and the whim seized him to make
Abdallah lead his camel. The slave walked
before his master, sullen and slow, the string
of the camel slack in his hand, arid his eyes
fixed on the ground. Turn which way he
would he was blasted by the sight ol human
laces. Men ot all ranks and conditions re
joiced at his abasement. Children climbed
up arches and gateways to get a glimpse oi
him. Citizens pointed him out to strangers,
arid veiled women peered at him from lat
ticed balconies. Many of his debtors were
present, and merry enough they were too
It was not every day that they coutd pay
their debts so easily. After traversing the
principal streets ol tbe city, passing squares,
markets and bazaars, the sheikh halted to
make room fur a procession. First came a
file of soldiers loaded with swords and dag
gers and armfuls ol sashes and shawls; then
a row of black slaves, each with a jar of
gold or jewelry on his head, and lastly the
head eunuch, leading a veiled girl, who
trembled under her veil. The heart of the
slave sank within him. It was the spoil of
his own bnzaars which the Sultan had just
seized, and his own child Zouleika on her
way to the accursed harem. A nnst swam
before the eyes ofthe wretched man; he stag
gered a step and fell senseless in the dust.
When he came to himself he was travelling
with a caravan, for the tribe whose slave he
had become were journeying hack to the des
ert. The sheikh rode at their head, and Ab
dallah led his camel over the sand. An ocean
of yellow sand stretched away on all sides
till it reached the edge of the horison. Not
a tree or plant was to be seen anywhere, not
even a blade of grass. The sky was with
out a cloud, intensely blue and bright, and
the sand a perfect glare of light. Sometimes
they followed the track ot former caravans,
tramping in the footprints of men and cam
els, at others, they struck out a path for
themselves, making the faraway mountains
landmarks The road was frequently strewn
with bones, the skeletons ofanen and camels,
some of w hom were overthrow n by whirl
ing sand, while others must have perished
from starvation. One skeleton in particular
impressed Abdallah, and made him thought
ful for a long time. It lay in advance of
the multitude, and beside it was a broken
water-cruse. He picked up a fragment ol
the cruse, and saw its owner’s name engraved
under the mark of the potter. The dead
man was one of his own agents, a trusty
Egyptian who started on a long journey for
him, and never returned “He met his late
in the desert,” thought Abdallah; “he was
starved to death that I might increase my
gains. I remember now that his wife told
me this, but 1 feigned to think it false, and
refused her a single piastre. lam punished
now, for lam in the desert myself. Allah
forbid that his (ate should be mine!” He
cast his ej es over the sea of rolling sand
and sighed aloud. Up to this time, and it
was now the second day of the journey, he
had made no complaint; but now his limbs
began to fail him from excessive weariness
The hot sand burned his tender feet, the
waste of flint, into which the caravan had
come, cut him to the very bone, and his
steps W'ere marked with blood. In the af
ternoon the caravan halted at a valley well
and pitched their tent for the night. The
valley was a mere gully—the bed of some
ancient river—and the well a pit ol brack
ish water. A stunted palm rustled in the
burning air, and a lew brave tufts of grass
disputed the supremacy of the sand. It was
a dreary' place, but it seemed a garden to
the weary Abdallah. The camels were fed
and tethered for the night, the sheikh and his
son sat cross-legged in the tent and related
marvellous tales, the slaves huddled togeth
er and sang wild songs in strange tongues;
but Abdallah stood alone in the shade of a
palm. His first impulse was flight, but a
glance at his swollen feet convinced him
of its utter folly. Had he needed anything
else to deter him he could have found it in
the hyena tracks which surrounded the val
ley. He threw himself under the stunted
palm, and strove to forget the change in his
fortunes. He was no longer Abdallah the
slave, nor yet Abdallah the merchant, but
Aii dallah the man, a man alone with nature
The stars were out by thousands, sparkling
ill the deep blue sky, and the moon lifted
her horn above the rirn of the desert. The
first new's that Abdallah had of her presence
was a long ray of light which she shot full
in his eyes. He turned his head aside, and
glinted on the surface ofthe well. A second
followed it, arid discovered what the dusk
had for some time concealed, the dusky
faces of the slaves as they sang their strange
wild songs. Then Abdallah saw the white
tent of the sheikh, and the group of tethered
camels, and then the stretch of desert beyond.
There was something in the moonlight
which made everything it srione upon beau
tiful, even the stern old sheikh, who came to
the door of his tent to watch his slaves. It
softened the heart of Abdallah and filled
him with tender and dreamy thoughts He
remembered how often he had seen it shin
ing on the mosqnes and domes ofCairo, and
how it flooded the walks ol his garden, and
dripped from the walls of Ins beloved kiosk.
Then his fancy wandered, as a moonlight
fancy sometimes will, to ruinous old houses,
and he saw the Beggars’ Quarter as it was
on the previous morning. The houses were
old still, with walls and chimneys leaning
to a fall, yet their decay seemed in some
degree repaired, he knew not how, while the
windows were curtained with white. “It
the moonlight does so much for the beg
gars’ house,” thougnt Abdallah, “what
might not human kindness do for the beg
gars?” It was a manly thought, and it en
nobled even while it grieved him. As pon
dered over his past life, its narrow selfish
ness and blindness, and, giving himself up to
the inflences around, was initiated into the
mysteries of nature, And the first thing
that the universal taught him was that no
thing exists for itself alone. He saw in
thought the moon and stars shining on trie
earth, and the earth giver owning his re
iurn. The land gradually crumbled into
the sea on one side of the world, while the
the sea as gradually withdrew its waters
from the land on the other. The clouds
covered the mountains with snow; the
snow melted and formed rivers; the rivers
with mist fed the clouds, and the clouds
lurned into snow and again covered the
mountains. The dew crept into the heart
of the flowers and the flowers breathed
the fragrance to the falling dew. Innu
merable were the examples of nature that
it is necessary to give as to receive. Yes,
and even to give when there is no hope of
receiving in return. “The desert, for in
stance,” thought Abdallah, “what can the
sun hope to gain by shining on its rocks
and billows of sand? For leagues there
is no living thing, save now and then a
scorpion or a struggling blade of grass.
Yet the sui shiijes as generously there as
iu the gardens of Cashmere, and the stars
and tlie queenly moon brightened the
solitude with their luminous smiles! And
the great God of the heavens, the infinite
and everlasting Allah, who made and
overlooks the word—of what avail to him
are Ihe prayers and the lives even the ho
liest? Yet the hands of the great Father
are always stretched forth with blessings
and bounties, and his ears are always open
to the cries of liis children. I have not
performed my part,” said Abdallah, sad
ly, “as God and nature perlorm theirs, but
from this hour I will amend my life. I
have not fallen in vain, since 1 have learn
ed to fulfill my duty. God is great!” He
rose from his seat beneath the palm
and walked to the edge of the valley,wnere
he saw a stunted colocynth growing alone
in the sand. Curiosity impelled him to
view it closer and lie hastened to it, al
though it grew in the midst of the hyena
tracks. Stooping on his hands and knees
he brushed the sand Irom it
and found that it was dying for
want of moisture. Its leaves were shrivel
led with heat, and the poor melon which
it strove to shelter was fairly witted on
the stem. It was a worthless plant at
best,so bitter that no animal could eat
it; hut its forlorn condition touched the
heart of Abdallah, and retracing his steps
to the well he proceeded to water it, using
for that purpose a tragment of the broken
cruse which he picked up in the desert.
That done, he bowed his head to
the Holy Ci y and said the
prayers of the fathful, and creep-
Ing among the camels he wits soon fast
asleep. The caravan rose at dawn and
rcaumed their march. The first good
deed of Abdullah repaid him well, for
the colocynth was green and fresh. It
waved its leaves to him at parting, and
the shine of its yellow melon was bright
er than gold. The sky above and sand
below; a desert of blue and ft desert of
yellow. In theupper desert marched the
stm, showering abroad his spears of fire;
in tlie unjeiytlesert the sheikh and his
tribe, vainly endeavoring to ward them
off. Sun and sand und hot wind. Frag
ments ol bleaching bones. A winding
string of men and camels and a solitary
sweeping kite! About noon they were
startled by a mirage. It was the first
that Abdallah had ever seen, and
he murvulh and greatly thereat. It
grew up from the sand sudden
ly assumed the shape of a band of
roving Bedouins, a tribe of desert robbers,
mounted on flying stallions and armed
with long spears which they brandished
furiously. Then it became the house of
Abdallah a perfect picture of his lost
mansion in Cairo. Like that, its walls
were striped with red; its balconies shad
ed the streets; the fountain played in its
kiosk, and a mock Zouleika in the shade
of its unreal B'eesl It's third change was
into the Beggars' Quarter, which seemed
more wretched, if that were possible, than
when Abdallah saw it last. Some of tlie
houses iiad fairly tumbled down nearly
all tlie windows and doors were gore,
and the squalid wretches, had multiplied
in every room. Parents had stran
gled their children and were weeping for
them;Children had grown up, and the girl
with sequins in her hair—she lay stone,
dead in the street! Then the mirage stir
sounded Abdallah, and became the very
square in which lie was stopped by the
beggar. He stinted down the long street
and saw the while walls of the city and
the fringe of palms overlooking it. Gar
dens and grain fields barred the north; on
the south and west run the Nile.alive wilh
glancing sails. The Mokrttani bills were
flooded with light, and the mosques and
minarets blazed with rosy flames. It
was too like Cairo not to be Cairo! Ab
dallah rubbed bis eyes like a man awak
ening from a dream, and found to bis
great joy that lie bad not stirred from
tbit square. The beggar stood before
him, holding out his hand for alms, and
in the distance he saw (lie Captain of the
Sultan Guard! Hardly a moment had elaps
ed,and yet Abdailiali had passed through
so many changes of fortune. It was like
the Prophet’s living in the seventh heaven
70,000 years, while a drop ot water was
tailing from bis pitcher to the ground.
“I have not dreamed in vain,” said the
thankful merchant, “for I have learned
to perform my duty. Here, mv brother,
is alms for thee,” and he gave the beggar
a piece of gold. “Depart in peace and tie
happy. For me—l will go and pray.
God is great! God is great! ’ The muez
zins took up the cry and passed it from
minaret to minaret till the morning wind
was vocal with tlie sound. Tlie faithful
beard it in their houses, and came pour
iuto the streets and sought the nearest
mosque. Every man drew tlie slippers
Irom his feet, and crossing the sacred
threshold, worshipped God and the
Prophet. There were many solemn
prayers said that day and many grateful
men in Cairo, but none that were more
devout titan Abdallah, the merchant.
, For by the grace of God,” he said, ‘‘l
am still Abdallah the merchant and not
Abdallah the slave!”
Tlie Alabama Itailleal Fuel ions
Washington Social to tins Cincinnati Enquirer.)
The Alabama Republicans are rep
resented here by two delegations,
who have transferred to this Hold
the contest tins been waged
for several years in that State be
tween the carpet-bag and white na
tive element of the party. The
Spencer, or carpet bag, faction is
headed by Mr. Bingham, late State
Treasurer, who is under indictment
for embezzlement, of a large amount
of State funds. He lived in the State
years before the war, and during the
war made shoes for the Confederate
army. Senator Spencer's party,
claiming recognition us the true Re
publicans of ibe State, are urgin'g
the appointment of George Turner,
of Missouii, for the Marsbalship of
Middle and Southern Alabama. The
bar of Montgomery has filled a doc
ument, charing him with habitual
packing of juries for corrupt pur
poses, and Attorney-General Deverts
has called upon him for an explana
tion. The other faction —led bv such
men as Ex-Governor Parsons, Judge
Pelham, Dr. Houston, Colonel Reid,
and State Senators Knox and Harris
maintain that Spencer and his fol
lowers are mere political adventur
ers, having no interest, in the State
except to get, tho offices, and that
they are responsible for the disre
pute brought, upon ttie party while
t he State was under Republican rule.
Both factions knocked at the door of
the Cincinnati Convention last year,
and the anti Spencer delegation
most, of whom favored Blaine for the
Presidency were admited its the
true representatives of the Republi
can party of Alabama. The same
fight is going on iiere now ; and so
far Mr. Hayes has recognized the
party led by Mr. Parsons by making
all the appointments in accord with
the wishes of the Anti-Spencer party.
The principal offices yet to be filled
are those of Marshal and District At
torneys, and it, is probable that they
will bit fl I led by nun of the same
wing of t,ho party. They testify vol
untarily that they have no sympathy
with the outcry made by the Spen
eerites that Republicans are ostra
cised in Alabama by Democrats.
Senator Knox says he has not ex
perienced any such treatment, nor
lias lie known any man who has,
unless tiis conduct justified it.
A Second Juan of Arc.
In Russia, the war spirit has taken
strong hold of the women, one of
whom, at, least, seeks glory in the
“tented field.” A sltort time ago,
the Princess Demidoff, wearing me
full uniform of a hussar, and mount
ed on a magnificent charger, road at
the head of a splendid regiment, of
cavalry through the outskirts of
Bucharest. This young lady is the
daughter of lie honorary colonel
and proprietor of trie regiment, who
is reported as spending sso,out) a year
, upon it. In our own civil war. we
j had female spies, wtio did good ser
j vice for both the Federal and Con
j federate armies, but none who sought
to inspire the troops by this sort of
example. No telling, however, what
the “vivandiere” feature of modern
military Grill may hereafter bring
about.— Call.
An lowa woman suing for a divorce,
put in evidence the head-hoard of the
marital bed, which lmd thirteen bullet
holes in it, and was at once granted a de
cree.
NO. 144