to: the house and field were valued, and he paid what was coming to each of his brothers, wished them much prosperity, embraced them tenderly, and remained alone under the paternal roof.

It was then he wished to execute a project he had long thought of. He loved the young Amina, daughter of a neighbouring peasant. Beauty and wisdom had lavished their choicest gifts upon Amina. She took care of her father's house, watched attentively over his declining years, and only asked of God two things-that her father might long be spared, and that she might become the wife of Selim. Her wishes were granted. Selim asked her hand, and obtained it. Amina's father consented to live with his beloved child, and taught Selim how to cultivate the land to advantage. Selim had still a little gold remaining, which was employed in improving his es ate, and purchasing a flock of sheep; the fields were soon doubled in value; the sheep paid their tribute of wool, abundance reigned in his house, and as he was laborious, and his wife economical, each year augmented their revenue. Amina annually presented hin with a pledge of their mutual love; children who impoverish the wealthy sons of idleness, enrich the industrious cultivator of the fields. In seven

years -Selim was the father of seven blooming children, blessed with an amiable and virtuous wife, a wise and affectionate father-in-law, master of numerous slaves, and possessor of two flocks, he was the happiest and wealthiest farmer of all Kousistan.

Meanwhile his three brothers were running after Bathmendi. Bekir, on arriving at the Persian camp, had presented himself before the Grand Vizir, and begged to be enrolled in the corps most exposed to danger.

His figure and courage pleased the Vizir, who admitted him into a troop of cavalry. A few days after the battle took place; it was bloody. Bekir wrought miracles, he saved the life of his general, and took prisoner the enemy's chief. Every one echoed Bekir's praises; each soldier called him the hero of Persia; and the grateful Vizir raised him to the rank of Officer General. "Abzim was right," thought Bekir, "it was here that fortune awaited me; all foretels that I shall soon meet Bathmendi."

Bekir's success, and particularly his elevation, excited in the breasts of the Satrapes envy and murmuring. Some came to ask news of his father, and complained of having their debts compromised in his bankruptcy; others pretended that his mother had been their slave; and all refused to serve under him, because they were his seniors,

Bekir, unhappy even by his successes, lived solitary, always on his guard, always expecting

some outrage, which he could avenge, but not prevent; he regretted the time when he was only a simple soldier, and waited with impatience for the termination of the war, when the Turks, with a fresh reinforcements, and commanded by a new general, came and attacked Bekir's division.

The Satrapes had long wished for this opportunity, and employed a hundred times more skill to have their general defeated, than they had in the whole course of their lives displayed to defend themselves. Bekir fought like a lion, but he was neither obeyed nor seconded. The Persian soldiers vainly resisted, their officers guided, and only prompted them to flight. The brave Bakir, abandoned, covered with wounds, sunk under the weight of them, and was taken by the Janissaries. The Turkish general was base enough to have him loaded with irons, as soon as he could bear them, and sent him to Constantinople, where he was thrown into a dungeon.

"Alas!" exclaimed he, "I begin to fear that Abzim has deceived me, for I cannot hope here to meet Bathmendi."

The war lasted fifteen years, and the Satrapes always prevented Bekir's being exchangedPeace at length restored him his liberty; he immediately returned to Ispahan, and sought his friend the Vizier, whose life he had saved. It was three weeks before he could gain access to him; at the expiration of this time he obtained an audience. Fifteen years imprisonment had greatly altered a very han some young man. Bekir was scarcely to be recognized, and the Vizir did not remember him; at last, on recalling the many glorious epochs of his life, he remembered that Bekir had formerly rendered him a trifling service. "Yes, yes, my friend," said he, "I remember you; you are a brave fellow; but the state is loaded with debts, a long war and great festivals have exhausted our finances; however, call again, I will try, I will see, I will see." "But I am in want of bread, and for three weeks have sought the opportunity of speaking to your Highness. I should have died with hunger, if an old soldier, my former comrade, had not shared with me his pay." "This soldier's conduct is much to be commended," answered the Vizir, "it is truly affecting; I will relate it to the King; return to see me, you know I esteem you." Saying these words he turned his back on Bekir, who called the next day, but could not obtain an audience; in despair he quitted the palace, resolving never to enter it again.

He travelled on till he came to the river Zondron; overcome with fatigue, he fell at the foot of a tree; there he reflected on the ingratitude Нн 2

journey, and travelled several days without meeting any adventure.

As they were traversing the province of Kousistan, they arrived at a little village, where they proposed to pass the night. It was a day of festivity; on entering the village they observed a number of rustic children walking, conducted by a schoolmaster of a very shabby appearance, and who, with his eyes bent to the ground, seemed wrapped in thought. On approaching and examining his features, what was their surprise? It was Omir, their brother, whom they embraced. What, my friend," exclaimed Bekir, "Oh, is it thus genius is recompenced!" "You see," replied Omir, "valour meets with much the same reward; but the philosopher finds great subject for reflection, and that is some consolation." Saying this, he conducted the children home to their parents, and then led Bekir and Mesrou into his little cottage, and prepared with his own hands some rice for their supper; and after having listened to his brothers' adventures, he related his own in the following

words:

The genius Abzim, who I very much suspect to delight in mischief, advised me to seek this yet unfound Bathmendi among the wits and beauties, in the splendid city of Agra. I arrived there, and before I made myself known I wished to complete a work that might make me enter the literary world with eclat. At the end of a month my book appeared, it was a complete description of all human sciences, in a little volume, in 18mo, of sixty pages, divided into chapters; each chapter contained a tale, and each tale taught a science.

My work met with prodigious success. Some critics, indeed, chose to say it was rather tedious, but all the first people purchased it, and this consoled me for what they had pleased to advance. I was sought after, and invited by all who thought themselves learned; all I did was admirable; none was spoken of but Omir; I was courted by every body; and the favourite Sultana wrote me a note, without orthography, to beg I would visit the court.

Courage, thought I; Abzim has not deceived me, my fame is at its height, I will support myself hy means more secure than intrigue; I will please, I will charm, and I shall find Bathmendi.

I met with a very gracious reception in the palace of the Great Mogul; the favourite Sultana publicly declared herself my protectress, presented me to the Emperor, desired me to write verses, gave me a pension, admitted me to her supper parties, and swore to me a hundred times a day sentiments of friendship. On my side, I devoted my heart to unbounded gratitude,

and promised to consecrate my days to sing and celebrate my benefactress. I composed a poem in her praise, in which the sun was but a false gem compared to her eyes; where the ivory, the coral, the finest pearls were nothing beside her face, her lips, and her teeth. These crafty and delicate praises ensured me her support.

I fancied I almost beheld Bathmendi, when my protectress quarrelled with the Vizir, because he refused to give the government of a province to the son of her confectioner. Enraged at his audacity she asked the Emperor to banish the insolent minister, but the Emperor esteemed his Vizir, and refused his favourite. Then it was necessary to form a regular plan of intrigue to overthrow the Vizir. I was of the plot, and received orders to compose an acrimonious satyr. It is not difficult to write a satire, mine was soon completed, and tolerably good; it was read with avidity, which is always the case.

The Vizir soon discovered the author, he sought the favourite, presented her the government he had refused, and an order to receive a hundred thousand dariques from the Royal trea sury; and for all this only asked her perinission to condemn me to a death by hunger in a dungeon. It is a trifle, answered the favourite, I am too happy in being able to oblige you. Γ will, if you wish, immediately send for that insolent wretch, who has dared to insult you, notwithstanding my express orders to the contrary, and I will deliver him into your hands." Happily a slave who was present came and apprized me of my danger, I had only time to escape. Since that period I have traversed Indostan, scarcely gaining a subsistence by writing romances and verses for booksellers, who cheated me, and were more severe on my talents than their own consciences, and even would not allow that my style possessed merit; when I had money, my writings were sublime, no sooner was I in poverty, than I wrote nothing but nonsense. At last, disgusted and tired of enlightening the world, I have preferred teaching peasants to read; I established myself in this village, where I eat brown-bread without any hope of finding Bathmendi.

"Leaving it, and returning with us to our native village depends entirely upon you," said Mesrou, "where some diamonds I take with me will ensure ease and comfort." They easily prevailed on Omir to accompany them, and the next day the three brothers left the village, and took the road of Kousistan.

After journeying for a few days they approached the habitation of Selim: the idea of seeing him gave them hope, but that hope was not unmixed with fear.

"Shall we find our brother, we left him very

SIR ROBERT, the father of the present Sir, was a man of mean birth, mean fortune, and a still meaner soul; being successful, however, in his trade, he amassed immense wealth. His former meanness was now forgotten; he purchased a baronetage, and to give it greater weight, a borough. His services to the ministry rendered him a favourite at court; and he now acted that part of servility in a more splendid scene which he had formerly exhibited in his shop. The most singular trait in his character was a péculiar shrewdness of remark; and I remember one of his maxims, which is still repeated with praise, "Nothing is lost," he would say, " in the purchase of promotion, by general flattery, the only current coin of courts: it is buying a commodity with bad money; the seller is indeed a dupe, but the buyer is certainly a gainer." With this species of Scotch morality, it is no reasonable subject of surprise that Sir Robert was the favourite of a court.

There was something, however, still wanting to Sir Robert. His baronetage, his seat in parliament, and his court favour had indeed advanced his consequence. He had been appointed chairman of many petty societies; and where the business was not of too great importance, had appeared in the list of a Select Committee. He had ventured to propose several new turnpikes; and, to the astonishment of his warmest friends, once defended the utility of a navigable canal, even in a full house. Something, however, was still wanting to inspire him with greater confidence. His former occupation, in a low and menial trade, was not so wholly forgotten, but that the rival candidate of his borough interest would sometimes recall it to his memory; he was even fearful of giving his silent aye with too much warmth of gesture, lest the Opposition should level a jest at so respectable an associate of their adversaries.

To guard against these inconveniences, nothing could be fully effectual but to increase his consequence to a point which must awe them to respect. He had recourse to the usual meansa matrimonial alliance. His friends procured him a wife to his wishes, one who as heartily despised him as she loved his wealth. Sir Robert, however, according to his own expression, was here even with her; for he hated her person as much as he admired her quality. This mutual

hatred and mutual attachment, however, are the usual foundation of a fashionable union; Sir Robert therefore received the hand of the lady as the patent of a new tule. The present Sir was the only issue of this marriage; and became so strong a cement, that the subsequent affection of Sir Robert and his Lady could only be equalled by their former contempt an effect of matrimony more usual than credible.

Sir Robert was resolved that his son should enjoy those advantages of which the narrow circumstances of his early life had deprived himself. " I tremble," said Sir Robert, "when I rise to propose a turapike; but it shall not be so with my son, he shall propose a budget without a blush. I hesitate when I fix a parish-rate; it shall not be so with my son, he shall tax a nation with a confidence as unblushing as the Premier himself; he shall stand unmoved amidst contending benches, and command order with the dignity and authority of the Chair himself." Such were the resolutions of Sir Robert, and such his rule of education for his only son and heir.

Nor was the care of the lady less occupied upon the future figure of her son. About a year before her union with Sir Robert, she had been addressed by a libertine of fashion; but as her lover had started a better fortune, he had not hesitated to desert his former pursuit, and hunt his new game. He had married this his second mistress but a few months before the lady herself accepted the hand of Sir Robert; and it was to resentment of this infidelity, perhaps, that Sir Robert owed the rapid success of his solicitation. She had not as yet forgotten this injury, and the first wish of her heart was revenge upon her faithless lover. I relate these circumstances, because they are necessary to the narrative, and will furnish a singular example as well of the permanence, as of the long reach and persevering progress of female vengeance. In one word, the lady was resolved to employ her son as the instrument of her revenge upon her lover, and determined to educate him upon a system suited to this purpose.

"The manly and regular features of my son," said she, " resemble those of my lover. His manners and accomplishments shall have the same similitude. He shall be the same seductive libertine, have the same brilliancy of fashion, contempt of morals, and gay indifference to every