you," continued the interrogator, "resolved never to think of teaching the knowledge of men to children? Have you resolved to try what is good in the old, before you hurry on to the new? One question more, have you resolved to give up the honours of a sheik's son-in-law, and never to wed till you see once again the vision of the Bosphorus ?"

Mustapha sprang from his seat at the words. Three horses were piquetted in rear of the tent. On one of them was already mounted the captive pasha of Sidon, who acted as their guide; and the fugitives were soon far from the camp of the Beni Kohlani. At the dawn they were galloping along the shore; a ship was off the coast; they hailed it, and found themselves in the Venetian vessel which had brought the pilgrims. To Mustapha's enquiry as to his converts, the answer was, "that they had never quarrelled, from the day he had ceased the attempt to reconcile them."

The vessel dropped anchor in the gulph of Macri, and Mustapha viewed the shore of Asia with immeasurable longing. The young Scribe divined his emotions, and said, "My lord, you must return to your country, and take the station your birth, feelings, and talents, mark for your own."

We

"No! my inheritance is now in the hand of another," said Mustapha bitterly "the sword of my fathers is rusted in the sheath of their son. must find some lonely hill, or unknown hermitage, and die together." "Never!" exclaimed the Scribe. "The daughter of the Sultan was not made to be his follower whom she could not honour as her husband."

As the words were uttered, the slight hand was raised to the forehead, and the deep turban which had so long shaded the countenance was thrown back. Mustapha started with a cry of astonishment. The vision of the Bosphorus stood before him Sherene, the daughter of the king of kings of the east. With many a blush and many a sigh the lovely being told the tale of her overcharged heart. She had never forgotten the noble aspect of the chieftain whom she had seen on the plains of Scutari. The agony of knowing that his generous spirit was exposed to the jealousies of a Turkish cabinet, still more than to the hazards of war, drove her to the wild expedient of following him to his dungeon. She had, from that hour, been his guardian angel. His lesson of life was now fully given; his impetuosity was transmuted into forethought, and his precipitate zeal to change all the world for the better, into the enquiry how to make the best of it as it is.

On this evening his eye fell accidentally on the emerald signet, which, in memory of his father, he had retained in all his vicissitudes. To his utter astonishment, the cloudly surface was brilliantly clear, and the characters shone like flashes of lightning. He read on the signet the words,

"For all things there is a time.
Indolence is behind the time.
Rashness is before the time.
Wisdom waits the time."

Sherene was at his side while he read the mystery. As he looked up in her fine countenance illumined by the sudden splendour of the talisman, he thought that he had never seen loveliness before. The cheek suffused with rose, and the magnificent eye, looked to him like the evening star shining in the sunset. The vision of the Bosphorus is forgotten," he exclaimed, gazing on her with the rapt glance of a worshipper. The princess gave an involuntary start, and her lip grew pale. "Forgotten," exclaimed the lover,-"but it is, in the presence of an houri!" A tear of delight glittered in her eye, the cheek was burning crimson again, she fell on his neck, and in that sacred embrace they pledged those vows which are not to be dissolved by the power of man.

The Bey had found the true motive for action. He flew to his province : his vassals received him with universal acclamation. All opposition per

ished before their triumph at seeing the heroic son of their old prince among them again. But their wonder was his bride, the princess Sherene Halibi. They honoured her unequalled loveliness; but they worshipped her benevolence, the loftiness of her genius, and the purity of her virtue. In the midst of the bridal, the Tartar of the court galloped up to the palace. He bore on his head the firmaun of the Sublime Porte, giving the paternal benediction, and appointing the Bey to the Pachalic of the great province of Karamania. R. S. E.

THE ROMANCE OF LOVE.

BY JAMES AUGUSTUS ST. JOHN.

[From "The Friendship's Offering," for 1835.]

"Who ever loved, that loved not at first sight?" As You Like It.

In the autumn of the year 1792, a respectable looking woman, about twenty-two years of age, dressed in widow's weeds, and having an infant on her lap, arrived in a return chaise at the little town of Llandilovawr, in South Wales. In the course of a fortnight, she had succeeded in taking and furnishing, to the best of her power, a small cottage in the outskirts of the town, where, as she confessed to her inquisitive neighbours, she intended to remain for life. Though her manners, and even her dress, denoted her to belong to the respectable classes of society, her means of subsistence were evidently scanty; for, very soon after her arrival, she caused it to be understood that she intended to take in plain needle-work, in order to eke out her small independence.

Her name, she said, was Waters; that of her infant boy, Arundel; but in fondling with her child some of the curious gossips, who would occasionally visit her, imagined they heard her mutter some other name, which, however, they could never catch distinctly. Be this as it may, she doted on the boy, and often, as she pressed him to her bosom, tears of mingled bitterness and delight would fill her large dark eyes, and trickle down over her pale cheeks.

Years passed on, and Arundel successively passed through the stages of childhood and boyhood, and was now entering upon that of youth. From the cradle he had been remarkable for the beauty of his countenance, but still more, perhaps, for a certain wayward, dauntless manner, which at first offended, but generally ended in conciliating and delighting his companions. He never kept aloof, as some clever boys do, from the other urchins of the place, but threw himself heart and soul, into all their amusements, in which, by the earnestness and force of his character, he was mostly the chosen leader. He swam in the Towy, climbed, wrestled, fought, with the best of them. In fact, as his strength and his years increased, his animal spirits appeared to boil over too fiercely, and his manners acquired a haughty domineering tone, corresponding but ill with the humbleness of his condition.

When, however, he had escaped from boyhood, and was entering, as I have said, upon the threshold of youth, his manners changed suddenly; he became meditative, lonely, studious, and the youths of the village were no longer his companions. In fact, he began, he knew not wherefore, to hunger and thirst after renown, and to nourish in the depths of his soul the belier

that there was yet a vacant niche in the temple of glory, which fate had reserved for him. He soon perceived by that happy intuition which belongs to genius, that labour and patience are the only weapons which render man invincible in the warfare of reputation; and endeavoured by a thousand trials to inure himself to those habits which by degrees transform us into what we would become. His only counsellor now was his mother; and, instead of repressing his ardour, she is thought to have fostered and inflamed it, by telling him that to be ignorant is to be a slave, that knowledge is power, and that genius eventually subdues every thing to itself. Frequently the mother and her son would sit up through half the night, conferring on the means by which fame and fortune might be achieved; and it was at length determined that Arundel should be a painter.

The hands by whose labour his life had hitherto been sustained now taught Arundel the first rudiments of drawing; for Mrs. Waters possessed many of the accomplishments of a lady; and the boy's first achievement of any promise was his mother's portrait. There is something inexpressibly tender and holy in the affection of a son for his mother; and Arundel, in whose soul every high and noble sentiment had been implanted by nature, appeared to enjoy a religious pleasure in reproducing the maternal features upon canvass; a pleasure which might, perhaps, be somewhat heightened by the circumstance that those features still exhibited something more than the remains of beauty, together with a degree of matronly dignity, which, in any but a mother's face, would have seemed rather to deserve the name of severity.

However, by constantly studying his mother's countenance, and painting it over and over a thousand times, Arundel acquired some little skill in portrait painting; and it began at length to be whispered about that the boy's pencil did not flatter amiss. The young ladies of the neighbourhood now took additional notice of the widow and her son; though, to do them justice, they had never treated them contumeliously; and first one and then another had her likeness taken, for which the young artist received some little money, and a great deal of praise.

The house, dress, and appearance of Mrs. Waters now began to assume a superior air; and Arundel himself, though still poor enough, dressed and conducted himself like a gentleman. He proceeded thus studying and improving until he had entered his nineteenth year, when an event happened which disturbed the smooth current of his life, and seemed likely to cloud for ever the atmosphere of his glory. Like all persons of ardent poetical temperament, our portrait-painter was deeply imbued with religious feelings; and although seldom or never accompanied by his mother, was regular in his attendance at church, and in his visits to the Vicar, who, childless himself, began to regard him as his son, and would always speak of him among his parishioners as his "dear boy."

One Sunday, in the midst of summer, a strange carriage drove up to the church-door, a few minutes before the service had commenced; and presently after a gentleman with two ladies, apparently his wife and daughter, entered the sacred building, and were shown into the seat directly under the pulpit. Those who occupied this scat sat with their backs to the preacher and their faces turned towards the congregation; and when the strangers were seated, Arundel, who happened to be in the next seat, lifted up his head and stole a glance at them. The young lady might be about sixteen, but was womanly beyond her age, and of singular beauty. Her eyes were brilliantly blue, her complexion the fairest of the fair, her hair dark auburn, which the rays of the sun, as they fell upon it, seemed to kindle into living gold. For the first time in his life Arundel was inattentive to the word of God. Rapt in a kind of trance, he fixed his eyes on the face of the young lady with a degree of earnestness which at first made her turn away, then blush, then feel angry. He was, however, for some time unconscious of

what he was doing; but at length perceiving her reddening cheeks and forehead, he blushed heartily in his turn, and leaned his head upon his hands to conceal his emotion. He now seemed as if he had tasted of some mysterious potion, capable of steeping the soul in the most brilliant and delicious dreams, or rather, perhaps, of awakening it from a state of lethargy to a consciousness of real existence.

A considerable time before the service was concluded the old gentleman, unmindful of decorum, or pressed by sonie urgent engagement, pulled out his watch, and appearing as if he had stayed beyond his time, hurried his family out of the church; and in another minute Arundel, who was debating with himself whether he should follow them or not, heard the cracking of the coachman's whip, and the rattling of the carriage-wheels upon the pebbled road. He made no doubt, however, that they would stop at least some hours in the town; and the instant the sermon was over, ran off to the inn, there being but one in the place, to inquire about them. To his infinite sorrow he learned from the ostler, a sort of animal which never goes to church, or imagines it has a soul, that the "gem'man" had not even stayed to drink one glass of ale, but hastened on towards the next town. To this place, which was only nine miles distant, Arundel at once proceeded, not so much in the hope of seeing his beloved unknown, as of learning the name of the family; but when he arrived, he was informed that a strange carriage had indeed passed through some hours before, but without stopping; and of the numerous roads which thence branched off in different directions, no body could tell which it had taken.

Nothing was now left but to retrace his footsteps. He arrived early in the evening, and to the almost reproachful inquiries of his mother, who had been alarmed at his not returning at the usual hour from church, he replied by giving the true history of his little expedition. She appeared to be rather surprised than angry at his conduct; and her only remark was that he had now an additional motive for exertion, for that assuredly if he should ever again meet the lady, it would be to no purpose, unless he possessed either riches, or a name to put in the balance against her fortune, it being scarcely to be doubted that she was wealthy.

Arundel had already acquired what might in the country be termed a reputation, and had begun, even before the above adventure, to turn his thoughts towards London, the magnet which attracts all high and daring spirits in the empire; and now his desire to mingle among the crowds of that glorious city amounted to a passion. At length he ventured to disclose his ambitious project to his mother, who, bursting into a flood of tears at the bitter thought of separation, after weeping in silence for some time, consented. "Go, my boy," said she: "I have nursed thee, and watched over thee for this. I shall sit here contented in this cot, listening to the echoes of thy fame, which will reach me like sweet music, and console me in poverty, in sickness, in old age, ay, even in death, my son! for I know that, whatever may be thy fate, thou wilt crave and deserve thy mother's blessing!" The young man's heart was too full for words; but after a moment's pause he sobbed out some expressions of gratitude and affection; and in a few days was on his way towards the capital, with his little fortune in a knapsack on his back.

On his arrival in London, Arundel, who in his heart had the ambition to distinguish himself in the higher walks of art, applied with unabating assiduity to his portrait painting, and soon began to be celebrated for his power, delicacy, and skill in delineating female loveliness; but in reality he greatly flattered all those he painted, for the image of his beautiful unknown, which had taken total possession of his heart, overflowed upon the canvass, and mingled itself with the graces of inferior countenances. Meanwhile, the young artist, who never ceased to hope that some happy walls within the circumference of this huge capital, contained the person of his beloved,

frequented every public place where it was likely she might be seen; and one night, from the pit of Covent Garden theatre, he thought he caught a glimpse of her in the dress-boxes a moment or two before the play was over; but though he immediately hurried to the box entrance, and watched until long after every soul had quitted the theatre, he never saw her again. His gains were now considerable, and a very liberal proportion of them continually found their way to Llandilo; but the mother at length checked this mode of expressing his gratitude, and reminded him that he was to aim at something beyond more wealth. This memento came just in time to second the project he had conceived of making a journey into Italy, there to study at his leisure the remains of ancient art: a plan almost universally pursued by artists, though it can be of use only to those fortunate few upon whom nature has bestowed the glorious power of creating without models; and who go, not to imitate, but to enjoy; though their very enjoyment is productive.

Arundel took up his residence at Rome among the wrecks of antiquity: and his abstemious habits, making but small inroads upon his purse, promised to enable him to prolong his stay as long as might be judged necessary. He never relinquished, however, his profession of portrait-painter, though he exercised it less frequently; and it was chiefly, if not entirely, for his own country women, or their lovers, that his pencil was employed in this way. It should have been before remarked that immediately after seeing the beautiful unknown, in the little church of Llandilo, Arundel had painted her portrait from memory. This production he continually bore about with him, and retouched as his skill increased; so that at last, whatever likeness it might bear to the original, it represented his beau ideal of female beauty, and was certainly an exquisite picture.

Among the English who put Arundel's talents in requisition, there was one young gentleman, about seventeen, who, having seen two or three specimens of his skill, came to have his own portrait taken. He was travelling with his tutor, and meant to make a long stay at Rome. From their first meeting, a species of instinctive attachment took place between the painter and this youth, which increased with their acquaintance, and promised to ripen into a lasting friendship. However, as often as Arundel took up his pencil to proceed with his young friend's portrait, a sensation of mingled pleasure and pain shot through his frame, and caused his heart to leap, and his brain to become dizzy for a moment; but delight quickly prevailed; and upon the whole, he never was so happy as when employed upon the portrait of Arthur Pevensey, which was the name of the youth.

Pevensey's tutor, who had never before been at Rome, and was not very cautious, or conversant with the locale of the place, had unluckily taken lodgings in a quarter of the city which had recently been reached by the mal'aria; that growing plague which must in the end depopulate the eternal city. It could not be expected that the boy should be much wiser than his tutor; and to complete the effect of the latter's imprudence, one night, to temper the intolerable heat of the weather, he threw open his bed-room windows, and went to sleep. In the morning he awoke in a raging fever, and the physicians, both Italian and English, declared to the unhappy guardian of the youth, that his life was in the most imminent danger. The news was immediately conveyed to the painter, who hastened to the spot, and found his young friend delirious. Observing the awkwardness, not to say stupidity, of the tutor, and distrusting the care of hired attendants, Arundel resolved to remain until all should be over, whether for good or bad; and having more than once watched beside his mother's couch during illness, he was not inexpert in a sick chamber. For many an hour he hung with more than a brother's affection over the unconscious boy; and when reason at length returned, and Pevensey could express his gratitude, he vowed that whatever might belide him, his friendship for Arundel Wa