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"My wife's parents were not long in ignorance of the fate of their daughter: they came to my house, and would have murdered not only myself but my poor mother, had we not saved ourselves by flight. They, however, carried the affair before the chiefs of the caste: who, not content with ordering me to pay two hundred pagodas of damages to my father-in-law, would have for ever excluded me from the caste, had it not been for the respect in which they all held my worthy father before me.' It was also ordered that such a fool as I should never be allowed to take a wife, and I am thus condemned to remain a widower for the rest of my life. I appeal to you, gentlemen, after this, whether I am not worthy of the soldier's salute."

After hearing the four Brahmins, the judges decided that each was worthy of the victory. "Each of you," said they, "has gained his cause: so you may continue your journey in peace, if possible.' The pleaders were all satisfied with this decision, and departed, each shouting, "I have won! I have won!" pp. 351 to 371.

We here close our translations, which have, in our opinion, exhausted this amusing volume. We have condeused in a few pages, as our readers will perceive, the essence of the latter part of the Abbé Dubois' work. The first and greatest part of the volume contains a translation into French of the fables of Vichnou Sarma, who, for some unintelligible reason, is styled in Europe Pilpay but with these we have not interfered, presuming them to be sufficiently known to English readers by the version of Sir William Jones, who has translated them into our language under the title of "Hitopadesa* -a collection which scarcely differs from the "Pantcha-tantra," except in the arrangement of the stories. Of the latter work, we observe, with some astonishment, that a translation is announced; and can only account for the appearance, by presuming that neither translator nor publisher is aware of the fact to which we have just alluded. We are happy, however, in believing that we have anticipated the forthcoming volume, in all that is really new or amusing in its contents: and the present article will at all events spare ourselves and our readers all farther notice of the work in question when it does appear.

THE MOURNER FOR THE BARMECIDES.
FALL'N was the House of Giafar; and its name,
The high, romantic name of Barmecide,

A sound forbidden on its own bright shores,
By the swift Tygris' wave. Stern Haroun's wrath,
Sweeping the mighty with their fame away,
Had so pass'd sentence: but man's chainless heart
Hides that within its depths, which never yet
Th' oppressor's thought could reach.—

-'Twas desolate

Where Giafar's halls, beneath the burning sun,
Spread out in ruin, lay. The songs had ceased;
The lights, the perfumes, and the genii-tales

Had ceased; the guests were gone. Yet still one voice
Was there the fountain's: through those Eastern courts,
Over the broken marble and the grass,

Its low, clear music shedding mournfully.
-And still another voice !-an aged man,
Yet with a dark and fervent eye beneath
His silvery hair, came, day by day, and sate
On a white column's fragment; and drew forth,
From the forsaken walls and dim arcades,

* See his Works, vol. 13, 8vo edit.

A tone that shook them with its answering thrill
To his deep accents. Many a glorious tale
He told that sad yet stately solitude,

Pouring his memory's fulness o'er its gloom,
Like waters in the waste; and calling up,
By song or high recital of their deeds,
Bright, solemn shadows of its vanish'd race
To people their own halls: with these alone,
In all this rich and breathing world, his thoughts
Held still unbroken converse. He had been
Rear'd in this lordly dwelling, and was now
The ivy of its ruins; unto which

His fading life seem'd bound. Day roll'd on day,
And from that scene the loneliness was fled;
For crowds around the grey-hair'd chronicler
Met as men meet, within whose anxious hearts
Fear with deep feeling strives: till, as a breeze
Wanders through forest branches, and is met
By one quick sound and shiver of the leaves,
The spirit of his passionate lament,

As through their stricken souls it pass'd, awoke
One echoing murmur. But this might not be
Under a despot's rule, and, summon'd thence,
The dreamer stood before the Caliph's throne:
Sentenced to death he stood, and deeply pale,
And with his white lips rigidly compress'd,
Till, in submissive tones, he ask'd to speak

Once more, ere thrust from earth's fair sunshine forth.
-Was it to sue for grace?—his burning heart
Sprang, with a sudden lightning, to his eye,

And he was changed!—and thus, in rapid words,

Th' o'ermastering thoughts, more strong than death, found way. -" And shall I not rejoice to go, when the noble and the brave, With the glory on their brows, are gone before me to the grave? What is there left to look on now, what brightness in the land? -I hold in scorn the faded world, that wants their princely band! My chiefs! my chiefs! the old man comes, that in your halls was nursed, That follow'd you to many a fight, where flash'd your sabres first, That bore your children in his arms, your name upon his heartOh! must the music of that name with him from earth depart? It shall not be! a thousand tongues, though human voice were still, With that high sound the living air triumphantly shall fill; The wind's free flight shall bear it on, as wandering seeds are sown, And the starry midnight whisper it, with a deep and thrilling tone. For it is not as a flower, whose scent with the dropping leaves expires; And it is not as a household lamp, that a breath should quench its fires; It is written on our battle-fields, with the writing of the sword, It hath left upon our desert-sands, a light, in blessings pour'd. The founts, the many gushing founts, which to the wild ye gave, Of you, my chiefs, shall sing aloud, as they pour a joyous wave; And the groves, with whose deep lovely gloom ye hung the pilgrim's

way,

Shall send from all their sighing leaves your praises on the day.

The very walls your bounty rear'd, for the stranger's homeless head, Shall find a murmur to record your tale, my glorious dead!

Though the grass be where ye feasted once, where lute and cittern rung, And the serpent in your palaces lie coil'd amidst its young.

It is enough! mine eye no more of joy or splendour sees;

I leave your name in lofty faith, to the skies and to the breeze!
I go, since Earth her flower hath lost, to join the bright and fair,
And call the grave a kingly house, for ye, my chiefs! are there."
But while the old man sang, a mist of tears
O'er Haroun's eyes had gather'd, and a thought-
Oh! many a sudden and remorseful thought

Of his youth's once-loved friends, the martyr'd race,

O'erflow'd his softening heart.-"Live, live!" he cried,

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Thou faithful unto death: live on! and still

Speak of thy lords! they were a princely band."

F. H.

RECOLLECTIONS OF DR. PARR, BY A PUPIL.-NO. II.

THE writings of the celebrated Dr. Conyers Middleton were a favourite topic of conversation with my preceptor. A near relative of mine, having asked him whether he thought Middleton a Deist, the Doctor took up a volume of his theological works, and read aloud from the Introductory Discourse to the Free Inquiry into Miracles, a most eloquent passage in praise of natural religion, the object of which was to contrast the proofs of the existence of a Deity, arising from a view of the works of the creation, with those deduced from supposed miracles. When Parr laid down the book, he said, "There, Sir, the cloven foot peeps out. Middleton's argument, if good for any thing, is equally good against all miracles." Another topic of discussion, on the same occasion, related to a folio volume by Bellendenus, in which he has made a collection of all the passages in Cicero's works, having reference to his life. Middleton, in the preface to his "Life of Cicero," takes great credit to himself for the prodigious labour he had undergone in doing what had been thus already accomplished by Bellendenus. Did he know of the volume above referred to? Dr. Parr thought that he did, because it was in the University Library at Cambridge, of which he was Librarian. If so, Middleton's boast was unpardonable.

Although my preceptor had a great dislike to playing upon words, yet his applause was once extorted by a Greek pun, which was made in the course of a warm argument between Mr. Payne Knight and himself. The former having, at the moment, a visible advantage, and having made some remark which nettled the Doctor, he, in a moment of irritation, exclaimed,-"Sir, this is not fair argument, it is downright impudence." Mr. Knight immediately replied,-"True, Doctor, the Greek word for it is IIappnata." This happy repartee completely restored the good humour of Parr, who shook his antagonist by the hand, saying," A fair retort, Sir; I forgive you, I forgive you !" and then laughed heartily.

Between Dr. Parr and Sir Samuel Romilly there subsisted a very long and very intimate friendship. Whilst I was at Hatton, Sir Samuel, then Mr. Romilly, used to attend the Warwick Assizes. On such occasions he always visited my preceptor, who, one day after I had met him at dinner, said to me," Mark my words, Romilly is a great man. We, who are his friends, know this now; but, in a few years, the world will know it." These words were spoken about twenty-seven years ago, when the name of Romilly was little known,

except in his own immediate circle. Mr. Perceval (afterwards prime minister) at that period went the same circuit. I have often seen him and Mr. Romilly opposed to each other in court; and little did I then think, that I should live to witness the untimely fate of both of them.

With Lord Erskine, Parr was also for many years on a footing of the greatest intimacy; and he availed himself of several opportunities of recommending his friends to employ that distinguished nobleman, whose equal as an advocate never has been, and, perhaps, never will be seen at the English bar. I recollect a cause in which the Doctor took a deep interest, and, previously to its being tried, said to his friend, who was a party interested,-"Have Erskine, by all means, and give him an enormous fee." This, be it remembered, was said to a gentleman to whom no fee, however great, could be any object.

"

I will here so far digress from these recollections, as to relate another anecdote having reference to Lord Erskine, which I heard from his own lips at the house of the late Mr. Agar, in New Norfolk-street. During the trial of Horne Tooke (on which occasion, by the by, Dr. Parr was subpoenaed as a witness by Mr. Tooke,) Erskine, who had felt himself aggrieved by what he thought a rudeness of manner on the part of Lord Chief Justice Eyre, took the following method of retaliating upon his lordship:-On one of the days in question, after the sitting of the court, Erskine being in a room at the Old Bailey, with the judges and barristers assembled, for the purpose of dining together as usual, the Chief Justice, upon dinner being announced, took the lead, and was marching out of the room in a stately manner, when Erskine touched him gently on the arm, and preceded him, saying,-"Stop, my Lord, you forget that here I am entitled to precedence!" alluding to his privilege as an Earl's son. The Chief Justice submitted with visible mortification. In telling this story, Lord Erskine observed, that nothing but a strong provocation could have induced him to take a step so repugnant to his feelings. He at the same time spoke handsomely of the judge's learning and talents.

* The mention of an enormous fee (a very rare incident) puts me in mind of an instance I have heard of a case being laid before Lord Chancellor Rosslyn (then Mr. Wedderburne) with a very small fee. The point in question was, whether the words in a will gave an estate for life or a fee-simple. Mr. Wedderburne's opinion consisted of two monosyllables, viz. "A fee."-The celebrated Mr. Charles Yorke, being requested to answer an intricate case, on which a very small fee was marked, jocularly gave his opinion as follows: "I incline to think that I doubt." This not being satisfactory to the solicitor, be laid the case again, with an additional guinea, before Mr. Yorke, who wrote, "I still continue of the same opinion." This story I heard at the table of the late Mr. Justice Buller, in Lincoln's Inn Fields. I will conclude this note by two anecdotes concerning that Nestor of the bar, the late Mr. Serjeant Hill, at whose house I was one evening drinking tea, in company with a very near relative of mine, when the servant brought in a case, which had just been left. The Serjeant took it to the window; and, after looking it over cursorily, appeared very angry. He then came to the tea-table, saying to my relative-There, sir, you see how they treat me!" Upon looking over the case, on which a fee of only two guineas was marked, it was found to contain thirteen very puzzling queries, with these concluding words, “And you will be pleased generally to advise on all the matters connected with the subject of the foregoing queries !"—and to make the matter quite complete, on the outside of the case there were written these words, "Despatch will be esteemed a particular favour!"-When Erskine was in the zenith of his fame as an advocate, upon some person's speaking of him in high terms to Serjeant Hill, "Yes," replied the Serjeant, "I hear that young man is coming on.'

When Parr preached his famous Spital Sermon during the mayoralty of his friend Harvey Combe, a large concourse of distinguished literary characters were assembled in the church, which was crowded to excess. Before the service began, I found the Doctor seated in the vestry-room with pipes and tobacco on the table. He evidently felt the importance of the occasion, but had a confidence in his own powers. When he mounted the pulpit, a profound silence prevailed. He wore the grand peruke, and was in full pontificals. In a word, he was in all his glory. The sermon lasted upwards of an hour and a half. Unluckily, the Doctor had no previous experience of the church, and consequently his voice was heard very imperfectly at the close of his sentences. This was a great disadvantage, which he afterwards was sensible of, and lamented. The discourse in question was published with very copious annotations. The object of it was to attack the philosophical doctrines of the Godwinian School. Shortly after its publication, the Doctor having said to me," Which part of my book do you think the best?" I answered, that I most admired the note in which a comparison is drawn between the effects of atheism and superstition. "You are right," he said; "that is the most eloquent passage."-A lady, of whom Parr inquired what she thought of this sermon, replied,-"Enough there is, and more than enough," being a part of the first sentence. This bon mot the Doctor bore with much good humour.

The placing military banners in cathedrals was highly censured by my preceptor, who said, "It is a Pagan custom. The Temple of the God of Peace ought not to be polluted with the blood-stained trophies of war."

Bishop Butler's sermons he described as "admirable orations on metaphysics." I have heard him more than once say, "Mackintosh is decidedly the greatest metaphysician of the age. But this is only known to Jemmy's friends: the public know nothing of it."

Like Dr. Johnson, Parr was in the habit of abbreviating the names of his intimate friends. Thus he called Sir James Mackintosh, Jemmy; the Rev. John Bartlam, fellow of Merton College, Jack; the Hon. Wintringham Stanhope Dormer, Winky; and so in many other in

stances.

The celebrated Mrs. Opie was a great favourite of Dr. Parr, who highly praised her pathetic tale of "The Father and Daughter," and delighted in her society. "Sir," said he to me, "Mrs. Opie unites in herself qualifications which are seldom combined in the same female. She is well-looking; she writes well, talks well, sings well, dances well, and is altogether not only a very amiable but a very fascinating woman." Parr having introduced me at the Norwich assembly to this lady, and having subsequently, at a private ball, had the pleasure of dancing with her, and hearing her talk and sing, I was enabled to verify my preceptor's panegyric.

Upon somebody expressing an opinion that his friend Mr. Coke ought to be elevated to the peerage, Parr exclaimed with animation, Sir, COKE OF NORFOLK is a title superior to any which monarchy. oan confer!"

The Doctor was fond of whist, and entertained a high opinion of his own skill at that game. He generally played either for scarlet

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