head, and dyed his hands, feet, or hair, as such operations became necessary. He was a short, thick-set, animated little fellow, with a lively expression of eye, and cunning painted in every feature. The colloquy that took place was as follows:

"Selam alek! (Peace be with you!)" said the mehmandar.

"Alekem selam! (Peace be unto you!)" answered the Persian. “Bismillah! (In the name of Allah!) be seated," said the meh

mandar.

"May your shadow never be less!" answered Feridun.

"I want to know," said the mehmandar, "whether you are acquainted with a Frank of the name of Slocomb?"

"So-lo-com? Yes," said the Persian, "I know him; he is a barber like myself."

"Is there anything between you?" said the mehmandar, winking his right eye," any business, any taking and giving?"

There is nothing," said Feridun, with a most unmoved countenance. "He is my acquaintance,—my friend."

"Nothing?" said the mehmandar, "no daughter? no love-play? no nothing?"

"What daughter? what love-play? what nothing?" said the other. "The little man has got a weak one of a daughter, a poor creature, a thing of nothing, who sits in a corner and has no words. I have no business with her. I have no knowledge of her."

"Man!" said the mehmandar, taking up a sterner tone, "by the soul of the ambassador, speak truth! we have heard things."

"By your soul! by the salt of the ambassador! by the tomb of the Prophet! by the name of the Shah!" exclaimed Feridun in a breath, "there is nothing. Solocom is not counted amongst men. He has got one worn-out daughter, without face or countenance, who is nothing. What do you want more? He is a barber, and I am a barber; what is there new in that?"

"This is no child's play! this country is not Persia!" said the mehmandar; "these are English people; their laws are strange laws, and their manners odd manners. The man came here this morning, and asked a great many things. These people are devils in their own right. If you make play with one of their daughters, and then leave her in the lurch, they will divide your head into two bits, they will make your soul fly out of your body."

"What have I done?" exclaimed the barber, beginning to look alarmed. "I have done nothing, by your own soul, and by that of your father and mother! A man may look at a woman in this country of infidels; there is no harm in that: my eyes are like any other man's eyes."

"What! has there been no love-play ?" said the mehmandar. “The man, Slocomb, has been swearing to me that you go to his house daily, that all the world knows that your heart is all day kissing his daughter's feet, and that he talks of marriage, and that the moment will soon come when you must send the marriage peishkesh, or present."

"It is a lie from beginning to end!" said Feridun. "I have no word to give to his daughter. I go to his shop because he is a barber like me; and I see soap, razors, and towels, and I try to talk his language."

"What! have there been no presents?" said the mehmandar. “Have you not sent a lamb and sweetmeats?"

"What presents, let me ask? The man does nothing but give me things, and shall I not give him things in return? It is not for the honour of Persia, and of my ambassador, that I should refrain ; so I have sent him a miserable lamb, and some melancholy sugarcandy. To this there is nothing to say."

"Did he give you things? Slocomb says he sold them to you. Giving presents is not the custom of this country; do you know what a bill means?"

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May the grave of bill's father be defiled!" said Feridun. "Wherever I go there is always bill. The man does not know how to live; he first gives me things, and then wants me to pay for them. May the men of such a country have their fathers and mothers grilling in Jehanum !"

"In fine," said the mehmandar, "let me give you one piece of advice. You are a man of understanding,-one word is better than two. Go no more to Mr. Slocomb; never see his daughter again. You know the ambassador, and you also know me. What use is there for saying more? May Khoda take you under his protection!” Upon which the mehmandar dismissed him.

The barber took his leave, and went his way, muttering within his lips, "I'll burn his father, infidel that he is! May his house be ruined! We are Persians; in fine, why should we eat the dirt of these infidels ?"

Days passed on, and no more was heard of Mr. Slocomb, his daughter, or of Feridun, until one morning, on going to see the ambassador, the mehmandar found him standing in his dining-room, surrounded by a posse of men and women, and the house in a great state of commotion. The first person he discovered was Mr. Slocomb, standing between his wife and daughter, flourishing a long slip of paper; a fat lawyer-looking man, with a blue bag under his arm, had taken up a position in front: Feridun was standing forward also, whilst the interpreter was making explanations to the ambassador, who looked angry and astonished. As soon as the mehmandar appeared, his excellency turned toward him, and cried out,

"Biah, biah, (come, come,) here is a strange to-do! wonderful ashes have fallen upon my head! these men with ruined houses have entirely killed me; I am dead!"

"What news?" said the mehmandar.

"This burnt father," pointing to Feridun, said the ambassador, "has been going about this city of London, marrying one girl after another, and here they all come to take him to prison."

"So, is it!" said the mehmandar.

Upon his appearance everybody simultaneously appealed to him, and the confusion of tongues which ensued may better be imagined than described. The lawyer put in his word with an official, though servile accent. Slocomb was inclined to be vociferous; his sharplooking spouse threw out a shrill voice in most acidulated accents; the fair Nancy looked pale and lachrymose; Feridun swore by every object sacred to Persians; whilst the ambassador, backed by his numerous suite, all talked to each other, bewailing their unfortunate fates at being so beset by infidels.

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Sir," said the lawyer, "we sue for a breach of promise of marriage."

"Look at this bill," exclaimed Slocomb, "and tell me if this

looks like giving? Who ever gave away a dozen and a half of washballs, and six pounds of Windsor soap?"

Calling himself a gentleman, and a prince too," squeaked out Mrs. Slocomb, "all to get our Nancy from us! It's a crying shame!” Hush, mother!" cried Nancy; "for Heaven's sake, hush!" “Wullah! Billah! (by Allah !) they all tell lies!" exclaimed Feridun, extending his hands to his master. "I have done nothing! Why do you treat me thus in this foreign land? Why did you bring us here to be reviled by these Franks ?"

"Do you speak thus to me, dog?" exclaimed the ambassador, every hair in his beard distended, and growing livid with rage. "Strike him on the mouth, sujehim!" he cried with a loud voice to his men, who rushed forward, and, taking hold of him, pinioned his arms behind his back, whilst one, pulling off his shoe, advanced, and inflicted several blows on his mouth with the iron heel thereof. Upon seeing this, the mehmandar also rushed forward towards the ambassador, and exclaimed,

"Pardon! pardon! he is ignorant of our customs. Let him off, and we will arrange the whole business. This threat is pooch,—is stuff and nonsense."

It was long, however, before any one could gain a hearing. The lawyer, the perfumer, his wife and daughter, had not arrived prepared to witness a Persian tumult, and truly it had never before been their fate to witness the outbreak of passion in so dreadful a shape. They all seemed to shrink back within themselves, and keep aloof from the barbarians, afraid lest they too might stand a chance of losing their front teeth.

As soon as the mehmandar had in some measure calmed the ambassador, which he did by persuading him to call for his kalian, (or pipe,)—a common custom after an explosion of rage,—and, having seen him bend his steps to the drawing-room, he then accosted Mr. Slocomb, saying,

"How is this, sir? Did not you assure me the last time we met that you would never allow Feridun to enter your doors again, and that you would send me your bill for all the articles you had delivered to him?”

"Hi did, sir," said the perfumer, "and so hi would; but my wife, she wouldn't hear of it, for she said that one man is as good as another, and she didn't see why she was to be done out of a husband for her daughter, although he was a Persian, and wore a beard."

"Hold your tongue!" exclaimed the wife to her husband in an accent more cutting than the east wind, "don't make yourself an ass! I've a right to do with my daughter what I likes! it's nobody's business but mine; but it does not follow that every rascal that comes has a right to do the same. If that fellow there, has made a promise of marriage to my daughter, and refuses to keep it, let him pay for it; that's the law, isn't it, Mr. Sniggs?"

"It can't be denied," replied the obsequious Sniggs.

"Let me inquire, ma'am," said the mehmandar, "how that proImise was made? Your daughter must be well advanced in the knowledge of the Persian language, or her lover in that of English, to be able so soon to make themselves understood upon so delicate a subject."

"Oh, that's easily done!" answered Mrs. Slocomb, with a most

taunting and contemptuous toss of her head. "I promise you, that's soon done! The dumb, I warrant you, would understand each other on that head, let alone a Persian, and a nice girl, like our Nancy."

"But, I ask, what did he say when he proposed ?" urged the mehmandar.

La, sir!" said Slocomb, "we are caught there!" "Hold your tongue, fool!" sharply exclaimed Mrs. S. " "you know nothing about it. He said, 'Belly, belly!" which I know means 'yes' in their language, whatever it may mean in ours."

"O ho!" said the mehmandar, "then it was your daughter who proposed, and he said 'yes;' that alters the case very much."

Upon which the lawyer stepped forward to prevent Mrs. Slocomb from saying any thing further, endeavouring to throw the whole case into an official form favourable to his clients; but he only succeeded in raising a second storm, in which mother, daughter, and father took the principal part, and which ended in the usual violent floods of tears, with the allowed portion of hysterics.

It will not be necessary further to increase our narrative of this event than to say, that, by the mehmandar's timely interference, he succeeded in screening the ambassador from the designs of the intriguing attorney,-who had put the perfumer up to this scheme,in securing to Feridun his freedom and protection from blows, and in satisfying Mr. Slocomb's demands upon the inroads that had been made upon his property.

STANZAS

ON CONTEMPLATING THE HEAVENS AT MIDNIGHT.

BY MRS. CORNWELL BARON WILSON.

TELL me, ye brightly-burning orbs of night,
Now shining down on our terrestrial sphere,

If to your realms the SPIRIT takes its flight

When it throws off its mortal covering here ?—

Does it take wing and to the skies aspire,

And breathe forth songs in heaven to some melodious lyre?
Tell me, fair Moon, that sail'st in æther's space,

Art thou some world, peopled with creatures free,
Where sunder'd spirits shall meet face to face,
Lifting the veil of immortality?—

Shall we there know, ev'n as on earth we 're known,
And shall Affection clasp hearts made again its own?

Tell me, ye clouds, that o'er the azure heaven

Float like the streamers of some bridal vest,
When by the breeze of midnight ye are driven,-
Say, do ye canopy some place of rest,
Some peaceful bourn to which the spirit flies
To join the lost of earth and re-unite its ties?

Ye cannot answer! and it is not meet

Such mysteries should be solv'd us. Why should man,

With blinded gaze and travel-wearied feet,

Attempt to penetrate what angels scan

With heavenly eyes but dimly?-let him bend,

Adoring what nor sense nor sight can comprehend !

ENGLISH COMFORTS.

FROM THE GERMAN OF DR. FRANCIS KOTTENKAMP.

IF you see an Englishman who quits his "blessed island" for the first time, you will certainly believe him when he says, that he is like a fish out of water. If he land sea-sick at Hamburg, and they offer to cover him with a feather-bed, on which he is accustomed only to lie, he will believe with dismay that people sleep in Germany, one over another, like packed herrings. Fresh air is denied him, for he cannot raise up the window as he is accustomed to do. It is with repugnance that he treads the scoured floor of his room, because it is covered with no carpet. He stretches himself uncomfortably on the sofa, for his eye cannot rest upon dark mahogany. At breakfast he sighs after toast; at dinner the plate is not polished well enough, and he has not the pleasure of beholding English plenty and elegance. And then the charming fireside,which the Englishman always associates with the thought of happy domestic life!-he must, in spite of all inconvenience, constantly leave the door of the stove open in Germany, and now and then cast a glance at it, to see the fire, as he says.

But, really, one should not find fault with him for this. The most sickly hypochondriac in Germany would be unable to resist the domestic conveniences and comforts of the English, and would wish to acquire by degrees the cheerful tranquillity of the gentleman. It is the same thing with respect to this sensual refinement of conveniency, as with English cookery, of which one may justly say, a person only learns the value of a palate in England; though the depraved taste of a Neapolitan ambassador once found a country insupportable, where there are six hundred kings, (the members of the upper house,) and only one sauce (melted butter).

A love of domestic life is a prominent feature in the character of all northern nations of German origin, but it is more remarkable in the English than in any other. Their climate excludes them from outdoor amusements; the individual pride of their choleric temperament confines their social and familiar intercourse within a narrow circle. In taverns Englishmen sit behind partitions, to avoid contact with unknown persons; in coffee-houses and clubs they are screened by gigantic newspapers; at public amusements (races, &c.) sociability disappears in the crowd; even at dinner, the meridian of life, the conversation not unfrequently flags, and entertainment is sought more from eloquence than discourse. The clubs which, since the beginning of the last century, have superseded the banqueting halls of the Cavaliers and the conventicles of the Puritans, and which from the beginning of the present century have also become more common among the middle classes, present, it is true, an antidote against proud unsociability. But only hear what some Englishmen say: "The clubs are injurious to habits of domestic life; they create the shameful, blameable practice of seeking pleasures abroad, in which the family does not share; promote a love for luxury, play, &c."

In short, in every station and circumstance, home is for an Englishman the centre of pleasure and enjoyment. No wonder that he