good habits and customs of the village were entirely destroyed by the bad example of this nephew.

But the pleasure of these young people in their rude, unconstrained mode of life was not of long continuance. The following occurrence altered the scene at once. The amusements of the winter were to close with a concert, which was to be performed, partly by the village musicians, and partly by skilful amateurs in Grünwiesel. The burgomaster played the violoncello, the doctor the bassoon uncommonly well, and the apothecary blew the flute, although he had not a very good mouth for the instrument; some young ladies of Grünwiesel had studied arias, and all was admirably arranged. The old stranger then declared that the concert on this plan would be very fine, but there was evidently no duet prepared, and a duet was absolutely necessary to every well regulated concert. They were somewhat confounded at this declaration. The daughter of the burgomaster sang, it is true, like a nightingale, but where to find a gentleman who should sing with her? They at last bethought themselves of the old organist, who had formerly sung an excellent bass, but the stranger asserted that this was by no means necessary, as his nephew sang in a most accomplished manner. They were not a little astonished at this new, excellent accomplishment of the young man; he had to sing something as a trial, and, some singular manners deducted, he sang, they declared, like an angel. They studied then a duet in haste, and the evening at last appeared when the ears of the people of Grünwiesel were to be regaled by the

concert.

The old stranger, alas! could not be present at the triumph of his nephew, for he was sick; he gave the burgomaster, who visited him an hour before it commenced, some directions with regard to the young man.

"My nephew is a good soul," said he," but now and then various strange thoughts come over him, and he commences his mad ways. I am sorry on this account, that I cannot be present at the concert, for in my presence he keeps the greatest guard over himself; he knows well wherefore. I must say besides in his excuse, that it is not moral wilfulness, but it is a physical infirmity -it lies in his very organization. Will

you not, Herr Burgomaster, when he falls into such thoughts-when he leaps upon a music-desk, or grates upon the counter-bass, and the like, will you not loosen a little the high cravat which he wears, or, if this does not answer, take it entirely off; you will see then how orderly and well-behaved he will become. The burgomaster thanked the sick man for his advice, and promised, in case of need, to do all he asked.

The concert-room was thronged; for all Grünwiesel and the surrounding country were present. All the huntsmen, parsons, stewards, farmers, &c., from a circle of three leagues, had flocked thither with their large families, to participate with the people of the village in this rare pleasure. The village musicians performed excellently, after these the burgomaster made his appearance, and played upon the violoncello, accompanied by the apothecary upon the flute; the organist then sang a bass solo with universal approbation, and the doctor was applauded not a little during his performance upon the bassoon.

The first part of the concert was at an end, and every one was on tiptoe for the second, in which the young stranger was to sing a duet with the daughter of the burgomaster. The nephew had made his appearance in a magnificent dress, and had already drawn upon himself the attention of all present. He had, to wit, without asking a question, thrown himself into a handsome easy chair, which had been left vacant for an old countess of the neighborhood; he stretched out his legs, stared at everybody through an enormous perspective glass, which he used in addition to his great spectacles, and played with a large mastiff, which, in defiance of the regulations of the evening, he had brought into the company. The countess, for whom the arm-chair had been prepared, appeared, but no motion did the nephew make to get up and relinquish his place. On the contrary, he settled himself more comfortably in his seat, and no one ventured to say a word to the young man on the subject. The noble lady was obliged to sit upon the straw-seats with the rest of the villagers, and must have been not a little vexed.

During the excellent playing of the burgomaster, during the organist's fine bass solo, yes, even while the doctor performed a voluntary upon the bassoon

and every one held their breath and listened, he made the mastiff fetch his pocket-handkerchief, or chatted aloud with his neighbor, so that every one who did not know him, wondered at the singular behavior of the young gentle

man.

It was not strange, therefore, that all were anxious to see how he would perform his duet. The second part began. The village musicians had struck up when the burgomaster, with his daughter, stepped up to the young man, handed him a sheet of music, and said, "Sir, if it is agreeable to you, we will now have the duet." The young man laughed, showed his teeth, sprang up, and the two followed him to the music-desk, while the whole company were full of expectation. The organist beat the time, and nodded to the nephew to begin. The latter stared at the notes through his great spectacles, and broke out into a hideous, lamentable tone. The organist screamed to him, "Two notes lower, my dear sir! C! you must sing C!"

But instead of singing C, the nephew drew off one of his shoes, and threw it at the head of the organist, scattering the powder from his wig far and wide over the company. Ah, ha!" thought the burgomaster, as he saw this, "he is seized now with one of his attacks;" he sprang forward, caught him by the neck, and loosened the buckle of his cravat. But by this it only became worse with the young man; he no longer spoke German, but a very singular dialect, which no one present could understand, and leaped around the hall with wonderful agility. The burgomaster, in despair at this disagreeable interruption of the evening's amusements, resolved to take off his cravat entirely from the poor nephew, since this attack seemed of uncommon severity. But scarcely had he done this, when he stood as if benumbed with horror; for instead of a human skin of the ordinary color, the neck of the young man was covered with a dark brown hide,-he commenced his leaps again, higher than ever, and varied them in the most extravagant manner, thrust his glazed gloves into his hair, tore it off, and behold! his beautiful hair was a wig, which he threw in the burgomaster's face, and his head now appeared covered with the same brown hide.

He danced upon tables and benches, turned over the music desks, stamped upon violins and clarionets, and appeared like a madman. "Catch him, catch him!" cried the burgomaster, almost beside himself; "he is out of his senses; catch him!" But this was a difficult business; for, by this time, he had taken off his gloves, and showed long nails upon his fingers, which he thrust into the faces of all the people, and scratched them dreadfully. At last, a resolute huntsman succeeded in securing him; he pressed his long arms together, so that all he could now do was to kick, laughing at the same time, and screaming with a hoarse voice. The people now collected around him, and considered the strange young man, who no longer looked like a human being. A learned gentleman of the neighborhood, who possessed a large cabinet of natural curiosities, and various stuffed animals, stepped forward, examined him attentively, and called out full of astonishment, “Good heavens! worthy ladies and gentlemen! how is it possible that you admit this animal into polite company? It is an ape; the Homo Troglodytes of Linnæus. I will give six dollars for him, if you will let me have him to place in my cabinet."

Who can describe the astonishment of the good people of Grünwiesel when they heard this! "What! an ape-an ourang-outang in our society! The young stranger nothing but a common ape!" they exclaimed, and gazed upon each other dumb with wonder. They would not believe it, they would not trust their own senses; the gentleman examined the animal more closely, "But yes it was-it was certainly an ape."

"But how is it possible?" exclaimed the wife of the burgomaster. "Has he not read his poems to us? has he not dined at our house like any other man?"

"What?" cried the doctor's wife; "How! Has he not again and again drank coffee at my table, and talked learnedly, and smoked with my husband?"

"How can it be?" exclaimed the men; "has he not played at ninepins with us at the tavern, and disputed on. politics just like one of us?"

"And how!" screamed they all; "has: he not even danced at our balls? An

ape! an ape! It is a prodigy-it is magic!"

"Yes, it is magic and devilish witchcraft," said the burgomaster, reaching forward the cravat of the nephew, or ape. "Look! in this cravat lies the charm which rendered him so agreeable in our eyes." It was a broad strip of elastic parchment, inscribed with various strange characters. "I believe it is Latin. Can no one read it?"

The parson, a learned man, who had often lost a game of chess with the ape, stepped up, examined the parchment attentively, and said, "by no means. It is Greek or Arabic-yesyes it is a hellish delusion-diabolical witchcraft, and must be punished in a most exemplary manner.'

The burgomaster was of the same opinion, and started off immediately to the house of the stranger, who alone could be the magician, while six soldiers followed him, carrying the ape. The criminal must forthwith be brought up for trial.

They went to the dreary house, surrounded by a crowd of people, for every one wished to see how the business would terminate. They knocked at the house door, rang the bell, but in vainno one appeared. The burgomaster in his rage ordered the door to be broken in, and then made his way up stairs into the stranger's chamber. Nothing was to be seen there, however, but a variety of old furniture; the strange gentleman could not be found. But upon a writing desk lay a large sealed letter, directed to the burgomaster. He immediately opened it and read:

My dear people of Grünwiesel-
"When you read this I shall be no

Laughter arose in the apartment as the slave ended, and the young man laughed with the rest. "There must be very singular people among those Franks, and truly I would rather be here at the Sheik's, or at the Muphti's in Alexandria, than in the company of the parson, the burgomaster, and their foolish wives in Grünwiesel."

"There thou hast rightly spoken," returned the young merchant. "The Franks are a rude, wild, barbarous people, and it must be frightful for a polished Turk or Persian to live among them.' "Of this you will soon hear something," promised the old man. "The overseer of the slaves told me that yonder beautiful young man will relate much

longer in your village, and you will then at last have learned of what rank and country my dear nephew is. Receive the jest which I have permitted myself to take with you, as a good lesson not to force into your society a stranger who wishes to live quietly and by himself. I valued my time too highly to spend it with you, in your eternal gossiping, your strange habits, and ridiculous mode of life. I educated therefore a young Ourang-outang, who, as my representative, has gained so great a share of your affections. Farewell! use this lesson, each one after his abilities."

The people of Grünwiesel were not a little put to shame before the whole country. Their only consolation was that all had happened by witchcraft. The greatest mortification, however, was that of the younger part of the community, at having imitated the bad habits and manners of the ape. They no longer leaned upon their elbows, or hitched along upon their chairs; they were silent until they were spoken to; they laid aside their spectacles, and became polite and well-mannered as before. And when any one fell again into such bad ridiculous habits, the people of Grünwiesel would say, "he is an ape." But the Ourang-outang, who had so long played the young gentleman, became the property of the learned naturalist who owned the cabinet. He let him run about his court-yard, gives him food, and shows him as a curiosity to all strangers; he may probably be seen there even at the present day.

of Frangistan; for he was long there, and still he is by birth a Mussulman."

"How! that one who sits last in the row? Truly, it is a sin that the Sheik gives him his freedom. He is the most beautiful slave in the whole land. Look only at his bold face, his flashing eyes, his fine form. He might give him a light employment-to fan away the flies, or carry his chibouk; to perform such an office is but a trifle, and a slave like that is an ornament to the house. He has owned him but three days, and sets him at liberty already! It is folly, it is a sin."

"Blame him not, him who is wiser than all Egypt," said the old man impressively. "Have I not told you al

ready, that he gives him his freedom, because he thinks to merit thereby the blessing of Allah? You say he is beautiful and well-formed, and you speak the truth. But the son of the Sheik-may the prophet return him to the house of his father-the son of the Sheik was a beautiful boy, and by this time he also must be tall and well-formed. Shall he spare gold, and release a cheap, aged slave, in the hope to obtain his son thereby? Whoever in this world has a duty to perform, let him rather omit it, or do it rightly."

"And see, the Sheik's eyes are ever fastened upon that slave. I have remarked it during the whole evening. During the tales, his glance often wandered thither, and dwelt upon the noble features of the youth. It must be that it pains him a little to set him free."

"Believe not so of the man. Think'st thou to lose a thousand tomans gives him pain, who each day receives threefold that sum ?" said the old man. "If his glance dwells with sadness upon the youth, he thinks, it may be, of his son who pines in a foreign land; he thinks whether there dwells not there, perhaps, a merciful man, who may ransom him, and send him back to his father."

"You may be right," replied the young merchant, "and I am ashamed that I always think ill and ignobly of mankind, while you attribute to them good motives. And yet, as a rule, men are generally selfish and bad-have you not found it so, old man."

"It is because I have not found it so, that I readily think well of men," answered the latter. "I once thought like you; I lived on carelessly, heard much evil of mankind, experienced much myself, and I began to consider them at large as a depraved race. It then occurred to me, that Allah, who is as just as he is wise, would not endure a reprobate race upon this beautiful earth. I reflected upon what I had seen, what I had experienced, and behold! I had counted only the evil, the good I had forgotten. I had not given heed when a man exercised an action of compassion, I had thought it very natural when whole families lived virtuously and were just, but as often as I heard anything evil and malicious, I preserved it carefully in my memory. From this time I began to look around me with very different eyes; it delighted me when I saw the good not so sparingly

sown as I had at first believed. I remarked the evil less, or it occurred to me not so often, and thus I learned to love mankind, to think well of them, and for many years I have more rarely erred when I spoke well of one, than if I esteemed him avaricious, unjust or godless."

As he said this, the old man was interrupted by the overseer of the slaves, who drew near him and said, "My lord, the Sheik of Alexandria, Ali Banu, has observed you with pleasure in his hall, and invites you to approach, and seat yourself near him."

The young people were not a little astonished at the honor which was shown to the old man whom they had supposed a beggar, and when he had gone thither to seat himself near the Sheik, they detained the overseer of the slaves, and the scribe asked him—“ By the beard of the Prophet, I entreat you, tell us, who is the old man, with whom we have been speaking, and whom the Sheik thus honors ?"

"How?" exclaimed the overseer of the slaves, and struck his hands together in astonishment? "Do you not know this man?"

66

No, we know not who he is."

"But I have seen you more than once speaking with him in the street, and my lord the Sheik has also remarked it, and it was only lately that he said—“Those must be fine young people with whom this man will condescend to converse.'

But tell us-who is he ?" exclaimed the merchant, with the greatest impatience.

"Go, you are jesting with me," answered the overseer. No one enters this hall who is not expressly invited, and the old man sent word to the Sheik to-day, that if it would not displease him, he would bring some young people with him, and my lord, Ali Banu, gave him for answer, that his whole house was at his command."

"Leave us no longer in uncertaintyas truly as I live, I know not who this man is; we made acquaintance with him accidentally in the street, and entered into conversation with him.”

"Well, you may esteem yourselves happy, for you have spoken with a learned and renowned man; all present honor and admire you on his account. He is no other than Mustapha, the learned Dervish."

"Mustapha! the wise Mustapha,