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At times there come, as come there ought,
Grave moments of sedater thought,
When Fortune frowns, nor lends our night
One gleam of her inconstant light;
And hope, that decks the peasant's bower,
Shines like the rainbow through the shower
O then I see, while seated nigh,
A mother's heart shine in thine eye;
And proud resolve and purpose meek,
Speak of thee more than words can speak :-
I think the wedded wife of mine
The best of all that's not divine !

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ISHMAEL dragged himself with some difficulty to the
edge of the fountain, and filling the palms of his
hands wrth the precious liquid, moistened the
parched and bleeding lips of MIRIAM.

Page 5

ISHMAEL AND MIRIAM.

A TALE OF THE DESERT.

Fly to the Desert, fly with me,
Our Arab tents are rude for thee ;
But oh! the choice what heart can doubt,
Or tents with love, or thrones without!

Moore.

In one of those skirmishes which are so continually occurring between the Arabs of the Desert and the Molsallam, or governor of Jerusalem, the Turkish troops captured, near the valley of Begåa, a young Sheik of distinguished bravery, whose name was Ishmael; and whose father, Ahmed, the son of Bahir, was the Chief of the Wahydyahs, one of the most ancient and important tribes in Syria. The young Bedouin was surprised in an ambuscade; but resolving to sell his life as dearly as he could, resisted his assailants for some time with unexampled valour; and it was not until he had received several des

E

perate wounds, that he at length suffered himself to be overpowered and taken prisoner. Indeed, so truly pitiable was his condition, that it was with great difficulty he was transported to Jerusalem alive. On his arrival in the Holy City he was immediately couveyed into the court of the governor's palace, where he was placed upon the ground, with a marble column at his back to support him, until the decision of the Molsallam, as to his final destination, should be ascertained. A death-like paleneșs overspread his countenance, but had not subdued the manly and noble dignity of his features,-still instinct with a vital scorn of his enemies. A smile of proud defiance lingered on his bloodless lip; yet his ghastly wounds and the rigidity of his limbs seemed to indicate to the by-standers that the night of the grave was rapidly closing over the head of that youthful warrior, whose daring soul and resistless arm had made him at once an object of terror and admiration throughout all Syria. Life was, however, not wholly extinct, and that which would certainly have been denied from a feeling of compassion, was conceded from a motive of interest, to the expiring Bedouin.

The Molsallam expecting, as a matter of course, that a liberal ransom would be offered for the release of the only son of the Sheik of Wahydyah, sent for the Dragoman of the Convent of the Holy City, who passed for a skilful physician. “Hakin," said

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