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were confident and loud, his friends stood contented with frigid neutrality, and the voice of truth was overborne by clamour. He was divested of his power, deprived of his acquisitions, and condemned to pass the rest of his life on his hereditary estate.
Morad had been so long accustomed to crowds and business, supplicants and flattery, that he knew not how to fill up his hours in solitude; he saw with regret the sun rise to force on his eyes a new day for which he had no use : and envied the
that wanders in the desert, because he has no time vacant from the calls of nature, but is always chasing his prey, or sleeping in his den.
His discontent in time vitiated his constitution, and a slow disease seized upon him. He refused physic, neglected exercise, and lay down on his couch peevish and restless, rather afraid to die than desirous to live. His domestics, for a time, redoubled their assiduities; but finding that no officiousness could sooth, nor exactness satisfy, they soon gave way to negligence and sloth, and he that once commanded nations, often languished in his chamber without an attendant.
In this melancholy state, he commanded messengers to recall his eldest son Abouzaid from the army. Abouzaid was alarmed at the account of his father's sickness, and hasted by long journeys to his place of residence. Morad was yet living, and felt his strength return at the embraces of his son; then commanding him to sit down at his bed-side, “ Abouzaid," said he, thy father has no more to hope or fear from the “ inhabitants of the earth, the cold hand of the angel «s of death is now upon him, and the voracious grave “ is howling for its prey.
Hear therefore the pre“ cepts of ancient experience, let not my last instruc~ tions'issue forth in vain. Thou hast seen me happy “ and calamitous, thou hast beheld my exaltation and
my fall. My power is in the hands of my enemies, my treasures have rewarded my accusers; but my
« inheritance the clemency of the emperor has spared,
and my wisdom his anger could not take away. Cast " thine eyes around thee, whatever thou beholdest “ will in a few hours be thine; apply thine ear to my “ dictates, and these possessions will promote thy hap
piness. Aspire not to public honours, enter not the " the palaces of kings; thy wealth will set thee above ". insult, let thy moderation keep thee below envy. " Content thyself with private dignity, diffuse thy “ riches among thy friends, let every day extend thy “ beneficence, and suffer not thy heart to be at rest “ till thou art loved by all to whom thou art known. “ In the height of my power, I said to defamation, " Who will hear thee and to artifice, What canst “ thou perform? But, my son, despise not thou the “ malice of the weakest, remember that venom sup
plies the want of strength, and that the lion may perish by the puncture of an asp.”
Morad expired in a few hours. Abouzaid, after the months of mourning, determined to regulate his conduct by his father's precepts, and cultivate the love of mankind by every art of kindness and endearment. He wisely considered that domestic happiness was first to be secured, and that none have so much power of doing good or hurt, as those who are present in the hour of negligence, hear the bursts of thoughtless merriment, and observe the starts of unguarded passion. He therefore augmented the pay of all his attendants, and requited every exertion of uncommon diligence by supernumerary gratuities. While he congratulated himself upon the fidelity and affection of his family, he was in the night alarmed with robbers, who, being pursued and taken, declared that they had been admitted by one of his servants; the servant immediately confessed that he unbarred the door, because another not more worthy of confidence was entrusted with the keys. Abouzaid was thus convinced that a dependent could not easily be made a friend; and that while many were soliciting for the first rank of favour, all those would be alienated whom he disappointed. He therefore resolved to associate with a few equal companions selected from among the chief men of the province. With these he lived happily for a time, till familiarity set them free from restraint, and every man thought himself at liberty to indulge his own caprice, and advance his own opinions. They then disturbed each other with contrariety of inclinations and difference of sentiments, and Abouzaid was necessitated to offend one party by concurrence, or both by indifference.
He afterwards determined to avoid a close union with beings so discordant in their nature, and to diffuse himself in a larger circle. He practised the smile of universal courtesy, and invited all to his table, but admitted none to his retirements. Many who had been rejected in his choice of friendship, now refused to accept his acquaintance; and of those whom plenty and magnificence drew to his table, every one pressed forward toward intimacy, thought himself overlooked in the crowd, and murmured because he was not distinguished above the rest. By degrees all made advances, and all resented repulse. The table was then covered with delicacies in vain; the music sounded'in empty rooms; and Abouzaid was left to form in solitude some new scheme of pleasure or security.
Resolving now to try the force of gratitude, he enquired for men of science, whose merit was obscured by poverty. His house was soon crowded with poets, sculptors, painters, and designers, who wantoned in unexperienced plenty, and employed their powers in celebration of their patron. But in a short time they forgot the distress from which they had been rescued, and began to consider their deliverer as a wretch of narrow capacity, who was growing great by works which he could not perform, and whom they overpaid by condescending to accept his bounties. Abou
zaid heard their murmurs and dismissed them, and from that hour continued blind to colours and deaf to panegyric.
As the sons of art departed, muttering threats of perpetual infamy, Abouzaid, who stood at the gate, called to him Hamet the poet. Hamet," said he,
thy ingratitude has put an end to my hopes and ex“periments : I have now learned the vanity of those “ labours that wish to be rewarded by human bene
I shall henceforth do good and avoid evil, “ without respect to the opinion of men : and resolve " to solicit only the approbation of that Being whom “ alone we are sure to please by endeavouring to
s volence ;
THE SOLDIER's WIFE.
A SENTIMENTAL SCENE.
Augustus la Fontaine.
ALDEN was playing on his fute in a slow
and pensive strain, when the mournful cries of a child and the complaining voice of a woman struck his ears.
“ Oh! merciful God !” exclaimed the poor creature, “ hear with compassion the moans of my unhappy babe!”
Walden ceased to play, and looking over the hedge, he surveyed the child with compassion, as the woman lay on the grass to rest herself : he asked her in a soft voice, why the poor infant cried.
“He is hungry," replied the woman, weeping bitterly, we have not had any thing to eat since yesterday morning."
« Gracious God! since yesterday morning! wait here a few minutes, and I will return." He flew away with incredible swiftness, and reappeared in a short time, with a bowl of milk and a small loaf, towards which the child stretched out his little arms, and the woman to whom he delivered them began to feed it.
“ Sit down, my good woman, and eat of it yourself,” said Walden, “ I will take care of your infant.” Placing himself on the grass beside it, he dipped a bit of the loaf in the milk, and patiently assisted his little famished charge.
The child looked up in his face, and smiled : Wala den, pleased and affected at this intuitive mark of gratitude, kissed its little forehead.
“What is your occupation?” he asked the woman, who was eating with avidity : you are, I suppose, the mother of this little creature.
Where do you live ?"
“ No, it is not my own," replied she, “and I did not know his parents. I am the wife of a poor soldier, my worthy Sir, and I have travelled from beyond Berlin a great way: my husband had been away from me three years, and I wanted to see him again—for I loved him dearly. My own two little children I left with their grandmother; and I sold every thing I did not absolutely want at home, that I might carry him a little trifle of money. Accordingly, I set out, and got to the end of my journey, just as my husband had marched with his corps, to drive a party of Austrians from some little village; so, when it was all over, and they had done what they had been ordered, I ran to the place to meet him.”
Here the poor woman burst into tears. “And when I got there, he was dying of his wounds; yet he knew me, and stretched out his hand, saying, “Oh! Annette ! our children!”. These were his last words :--I thought I should have died too; but God willed, for the sake of our little ones and this babe, that I should live. In the same house where my poorhusband expired, was the wife of an Austrian soldier,