ken vow -- They took the body of Selim, wrapped in a white robe: Achmed bore it in his arms; for he refused to part with it. The despairing man moved forward at a slow pace. "Bird of Gibel," he murmured at times; "my bromy ruined Then he looked wistfully on his wife: her face was pale as the tomb; but it was calm. A few faithful servants were with them: they quitted the rich plain, the scene of so many years' happiness, and passed the surrounding chain of mountains. They knew not whither they went; for they were like people who fled from the agony of their own heart. Beyond the mountains was the desert, where Achmed had often followed the chase when the sun was setting. O beautiful desert! where in childhood I strayed, and have since roved proud and free; no grove, or city, or stream, is so dear to me as the wilderness of thy bosom !" Achmed paused for some time, and made a sign to his followers; and they passed to a solitary place of graves, at the foot of a high precipice, so that the sun never fell there; for the Arabs love that their last restingplace shall be in perpetual shade. Fragments of rock, placed upright in the sand, marked the sepulchres of those who had died in the wilderness. When the sun was quite gone down, the father dug a grave; and here they buried their loved one. Is there not a sorrow too deep for words? The child lay in his desert grave, wrapped in his white shrouds, while all stood around and looked on his uncovered face: the beauty of his mother was still on his lips, and cheek, and brow, for death had spared it; his hands were clasped on his bosom. O God! whose hand shall lay the earth on that breast? As the night gathered round them, each asked the question of his own heart; and no hand was found to do it. But when darkness fell on the grave, one of the domestics gently covered the body with the sand: the quick ear of the antelope stealing by could scarcely have caught the sound; but the parents heard it, and shuddered convulsively as it fell. - Many days were passed here: the solitude of the desert was welcome to Achmed; his soul was the dwelling of despair, and remorse fed upon it. He wandered fiercely over the sands; the burning heats of noon fell on his head and parched his skin even to blackness he felt them not then he returned, and sat gloomily amidst the tombs. It was more than man could bear. One morn he suddenly commanded the tents to be struck; and Almia saw that the hour of mercy was not yet come. They journeyed farther into the wilderness, where the aspect of nature was more awful and he loved to go forth to the savage precipices and watch the dying hues of day from rock to rock, and the stars come forth like a mighty and living host, so great was their lustre. Almia was often with him in these hours: it was beautiful to see the fond and pitying woman stand beside her gloomy husband, and soothe his misery. ; One day they rested beside a well: it was a lonely one, and around it were a few palm-trees, fed by its moisture: their green leaves and their shadow had an exquisite beauty; for all else there was an eternal heat and thirst; and Oh, stranger! hadst thou heard the soft gushing forth of the well, thou hadst said no music was ever so lovely to thine ear. In this place they rested long. One morn, soon after the break of day, Achmed descried the approach of a caravan from afar - horses, camels, with many riders and an innumerable company of those who walked painfully: he knew it to be the great company of pilgrims on their way to the Holy City. Some hours had elapsed ere they drew near to the well, while he gazed with deep and melancholy interest on the various banners; some covered with gold and silver, or rich embroidery: above all floated the green ensign of the Prophet. They came, unsuspicious of danger. He wished that he also were on his way to Mecca, to atone at the Caaba for the deed that weighed heavy on his soul. Already the sound of the camel bells could be heard, and confused, though low, voices of many pilgrims, the looks of the foremost bent intensely on the palm-grove, when a sudden fierce outcry rose from a ravine on the left, and Achmed beheld a band of Arabs rushing from their concealment to plunder the caravan. The guards made but a feeble defence: the pilgrims, rich and poor, hadgé and merchant, were soon thrown into helpless disorder; and the whole multitude moved wildly too and fro, like the waves of the sea. Already the plunderers were amongst them: the sacred ensigns were trampled in the dust; and cries of fear, despair and death, filled the air. At the sight, Achmed was filled with grief and a daring resolve to aid the worshippers of the Prophet. He sprung on his favourite steed, and, drawing his sabre, hastened to rally the disordered guards, and put himself at their head. At his example many of the merchants defended themselves. Raising the green banner of the Prophet in one hand, he attacked the Arabs with so much fury, that after a short and desperate struggle they turned their horses heads and fled over the desert. Their great Sheich, who had seized the white camel, the holy offering to the Prophet, was slain by the hand of Achmed. The more pious devotees gathered round him with tears of joy, kissing the folds of the banner, and the feet and mane of the adored animal: the wealthy pilgrims collected their scattered bales together the dervishes gave way to frantic gesticulations- then all voices blessed their deliverer. He stood amidst them, as one to whom the praises of inen were as dust: his hands were clasped on his gloomy brow, and his sad and stern eye fixed on the scene of the battle, as if he would fain prolong its excitement-it was such a blessed relief from despair. Then, as if to shun farther observation, he turned from the multitude, and sought his tent in the grove. The caravan rested at a short distance: its tents covered the face of the desert, on which, as night drew on, innumerable fires were lighted. It was late, and Achmed sat alone in his tent: a lamp burned beside him, when a step was heard to draw near and the chief Dervish of the caravan, who watched over the holy camel, stood before him. Achmed looked wistfully on his pale and impressive features, that had not yet lost their youthful expression, and at last remembered the man who had once been a guest in his home in the plain, where sickness compelled to ask a refuge. 66 Achmed," ," said he, after a long pause, "I know your history well: you have drunk deep of the waters of misery."-- The other waved his hand mutely; for the wild and bright eye of the stranger searched his very soul." But the deed thou hast done this day is risen up before Him as sweet incense. The banner, the blessed camel, the great multitude of the faithful, have been rescued from the spoiler: but for thy hand, they had been scattered as the sand of the desert. Achmed, I come as a messenger of mercy!" "Oh, Selim! Selim!" murmured the father, "Is justly taken-even by thine own hand," resumed the Dervish: and the sweet tones of his voice were evidently heartfelt. "You were blessed beyond others; for Almia, in her tenderness and beauty, was as an angel: yet you mourned day and night for children, and accused the Highest. Fool, the Prophet in his paradise hath given woman in her glory to the faith ful; but hath he said aught of children? He believed not that happiness, even on earth, hung by such a thread-Mohammed had no child." Achmed replied not, but raised his face to that of the speaker. "Yet Alla," again said the dervish, "had compassion on thy tears, and gave thee a Selim; but thy vow was registered never to draw an arrow again-to forget thy famed skill in the chase. Even this, restless and vain man! was broken: even this poor offering to Heaven was recalled. Still the bolt had perhaps not fallen, but the bird of Gibel must be thy victim :the beasts of the desert, the fowls of the air, were before thee; but your arrow thirsted for that noble bird, and your soul had no rest till it fell." The shuddering of Achmed's frame told the truth of these words. 66 "Spare me," he said, "spare the desolate." The Dervish raised his hand towards the beautiful sky of night, the faint emblem of the glory of Alla. "Achmed, it is the will of God that the agony pass from your soul: despair no longer. The day is fast breaking: it is the hour of prayer. Il Allah bismillak!" His cry went forth distinct and clear over the wilderness, and was answered from every part of the camp a rushing sound was heard throughout the multitude, and the murmur of their thousand voices was like that of waves on the shore. Achmed knelt on the sand, and prayed also; and, as repentance, sorrow, and hope, so long a stranger, rose within, the tide of feelings became too strong he drew his robe over his face, and burst into a flood of tears. When the sun rose, the hardness had passed away from his heart; for the love of Alla had entered there-the selfish and gloomy man spoke of blessings! Almia saw that the face of her husband was no longer the for he met her with a smile of the deepest tenderness: he laid his head on her bosom, and spoke of the future, the bright, the beautiful future that was before him. same; The Dervish again entered the grove were the tents of Achmed stood; and, pointing to the caravan, now in motion, he laid the charge on him to conduct it even to the Holy City, and be its defender from the dangers that might yet be in the way. It was in vain to refuse: the tone of command with which he spoke to the husband, and of entreaty to the wife, at last produced compliance. "In a few months," said the former- there was even confidence in his words. "I shall return to our desert home." In another hour the pilgrims were on their way: file after file of camels, as far as the eye could reach, and the countless forms of men, struggling through the painful soil. In the van, at the head of the guards, who yielded to him the post, rode Achmed, his keen eye traversing every part of the desert — all the daring and activity of the hunter transfered to the leader of the hadgés." Every hostile attempt was foiled by his restless vigilance: while others slumbered, he watched; and the hollow tread of his courser's feet alone broke on the stillness of night. At last the minarets of Mecca were seen afar off; and the weary multitude shouted for joy, for many had perished by the way. Nine times he passed round the Caaba, and kissed, and pressed his throbbing brow on the black stone: he drank of the well of Zemzem, that is said to wash out each dark remembrance; and each hour of the day he prayed, either beside the tomb of Mohammed or on the submit of Arafat. The haughty expression of his features was changed: his dark and restless eye now beamed with mildness: and when he came forth from the mosque, and the voices of the natives, as well as pilgrims, hailed the saviour of the great caravan, his calm smile told that the demon of this world had abandoned his prey. Was this the man who would have yielded life rather than his glorious skill in the chase, and feared to be childless more than he feared the halls of Eblis?. O Alla! how great is thy power to change the heart! Through many waters dost thou bring those whom thou lovest! One mòrn, ere sunrise, he was kneeling in the great corridor of the holiest mosque, his face turned to the east, and his hands clasped on his breast low murmurs, but not of sorrow, broke from his lips. He turned at last, and saw the Dervish standing beside, and gazing on him with unrepressed admiration. His robe and turban were of spotless white, as were his sandals; for he served in the inner sanctuary. "Thou noble and enduring man," he said, "God will not brake the bruised reed. Thy services on the desert were great, and have reached the ears of the Sultan, which are open to the words of thy friend. The messenger is even now on the way to invest thee with the Pachalic of Lebanon, and all the plains at its feet. Remember the bird of Gibel - remember "" A look of indescribable. feeling from the father checked his utterance, and the word Selim died on the other's lips: he waved his hand, and passed into the interior of the mosque. While these things were passing, Almia remained in the palm-grove in the desert. There is nothing so painful to the senses and imagination as to dwell amidst endless sands, on which the heat consumes by day, and the blast by night; and no change ever comes, no spring tide, no bursting forth of flowers, or falling of leaves: even our fellow-creatures, when they come, wear the look of suspicion, and pass on their way quickly. But around the lonely palm-grove the traveller loved to tarry: even the Santon, stern and proud, drank of the well, and lifted up his hands and blessed the wife of Achmed. Her tale was known -- her white tents beneath the trees were a sanctuary: even the wandering spoiler paused for a while to gaze on them, and then urged on his wild steed. They gave her the name of "the lady of the desert." During the day, her attendants sometimes followed the antelope for their subsistance: a few sheep, that browsed on the scanty pasture of the neighbouring hills, afforded milk; and the small caravans of merchants never passed by, on their way to Persia or Bussorah, without offering some of their choicest gifts: for they remembered the deed of Achmed. Each evening, Almia ascended the highest rocks, and remained there till the moon rose, and shed its splendour on the scene, to watch if she could not see afar off the coming of Achmed, or hear, in the vast stillness, the rapid tread of his courser. Then she returned and sat by the fountain's side; and, while she listened to the low gush of the waters, and the shadow of the palms trembled not in the moonlight, and the sandy ocean slept for no wind passed over it, she thought of their past days of affection; and the beautiful woman wept passionately. Around Selim's birth and Selim's grave, what a tide of feelings rolled wildly! She bent her looks intently over the waste, for wild forms were suddenly there: the glancing of arms in the silver light--the rushing of many horses. It must be Achmed. But the fierce shout of joy came not from his lips; and in a few moments strange faces were around her: and a richly dressed man, dismounting, gently raised her in his arms, and, placing her on a milk-white steed, the bridle of which was held by an Arab, the band departed at a slow pace. Long were her shrieks heard distinctly by her affrighted attendants in the grove. "O my husband, save me !" but there was none to save. This violent act, so unusual even among the people of the desert, was committed by the chief of a small but wealthy tribe, who had been so inflamed by the sight of Almia, as he chanced to pass by the grove, that he braved the cruel wrath of Achmed, and the curses of the faithful. Leaving the city of Mecca, with the numerous band of pilgrims, on their return to their distant homes, Achmed proceeded by slow paces, that only added fuel to his impatience. "Home" was the image ever present to his mind and Oh! what matters it, whether that home be the desert tent, the palace in the plain, or the mountain shed, if all we love is there? One being only looked forth and watched for him; but she was his world. On the tenth day many people were descried, advancing as if to meet them: they cried, as they drew nigh, “Is Achmed there?" and, as he rode forth, they made obeisance; and a man of rank, who was the messenger of the Sultan, presented the splendid robe and sabre, whose belt was studded with precious stones- the investiture of his new dignity of Pacha. A numerous guard, who had come with the Capidgé, circled around him; and the shouts of "Hail, Pacha of Lebanon - hail !" rose to the sky. Ambition, till now a stranger, sprang up in Achmed's soul; and, as he rode slowly on, and saw that others hung upon his every look or smile, and the wild tones of the war pipe and cymbal awoke, he thought how poor was the hunter's meed - how dim his fame! Another ten days passed, and he began to draw near his home. He commanded the pace of the caravan to be quickened, till the camels fainted and fell by the way. While they were yet three days distant, he sent messengers on the fleetest dromedaries to bring him tidings, and bade them tarry not by the way. The third morn had not risen, when they entered a deep dell between the mountains, up whose sides the thin mists were creeping: a horseman was dimly seen rapidly advancing. Achmed reined his steed; for a sad foreboding came over him. "On the Pacha's head be the blessings of the Highest !" he said; "but I am the bearer of evil tidings. In the palm grove Almia is not!-the spoiler's foot hath been there." Achmed's face was deadly pale, and his eye was full of horror, as he pressed on with the swiftness of the wind: a few of the guards only could follow him. As the bolt of heaven falls on the desert, so rushed the furious man from the shroud of rocks on the lonely palm-grove; and his servants knelt before him. Her tent was there-the rich Persian carpet on the floor-the turban that covered her beautiful tresses: - but she came not forth; and the vows of vengeance and blood were as empty dreams. Night went down on the host; the wind rose, and swept wildly over it: the white tents of the many thousands were moved like waves in a storm, rolling their crests of foam in beauty: the people feared to slumber, and stood on the sand, or at their tent doors, often looking towards Achmed. It was in this very spot he had saved them from the pursuer: at each moan of the blast, the timid trembled. Within a circle of his glittering guards and officers, stood the Pacha, the pride of sudden power and dignity withering beneath exquisite misery. Was he not as the Prophet, when Ayesha died? On the morrow, the caravan journeyed. During many days and weeks parties of armed men scoured the desert plains and fastnesses. Achmed offered bribes to the Sheichs, to gain tidings of the lost; but in vain. At last he journeyed onwards to the seat of his Government, to take possession of the palace of Darel Camar, on the heights of Lebanon. In the way there was a burial-place in the sand, that wild and lonely place, where the foot of the stranger seldom came. And here he had buried Selim: the shadow of the precipice was on the rude fragments of the rock, for of such was the child's grave. The father wept there from morn till eve, and then arose to depart. And he wondered to find that the loss of the boy was not equal to the loss of Almia: her sympathy, and time, and the mercy of Alla, had softened the one; but Oh, he felt each day grow darker and more hopeless! Where was her angel smile, her tenderness, the loved pressure of her lips, when he laid his drooping head on her bosom? "Alla! Alla!" he said, "is it not a mockery of power thou hast given me, while she"- and he smote his breast with his clenched hand; and then he knew how great was his folly, how great his sin when he dwelt with Almia in the plain, and was unhappy because they were childless. At last he dwelt in his palace, and entered on the duties and cares of his office. Sweet are the duties of power, dear are the cares of watching over the fate and commanding the wills of others. Behold! but for the dust and ashes that had newly fallen on his head, the draught had been too intoxicating! The worm that preyed on Achmed's heart, drove him to seek relief, incessantly, in the concerns of his Pachalic. Till noon he sat in the hall of justice; and, when the wretched, the desolate, or the oppressed, came before him, his spirit was melted, his hand hasted to relieve and |