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sash, a third his jewel-hilted dagger, Sometimes they followed the track of and the fourth the purse which he vain- former caravans, trampling in the footly attempted to conceal; the rest, mean- prints of men and camels; at others, they while, rode around him and pricked him struck out a path for themselves, making with the points of their long spears. the far-away mountains landmarks. He was then handed over to the soldiers, The road was frequently strewn with and buffeted about till his bones ached. bones, the skeletons of men and camels, When the shekh returned for his slave some of whom were overthrown by he found him in a sorry plight, for he whirling clouds of sand, while others was covered with blood and bruises, and must have perished from starvation. his garments were torn to tatters. Could One skeleton in particular impressed his counterfeit and second self, the van- Abdallah, and made him thoughtful for ished beggar, have seen him then, even a long time. It lay in advance of the he must have pitied him, he was so multitude, and beside it was a broken ragged and forlorn.

water-cruse. He picked up a fragment It pleased the shekh to ride through of the cruse, and saw its owner's name Cairo before he started for the desert, engraved under the mark of the potter. and the whim seized him to make Ab- The dead man was one of his own agents, dallah lead his camel. The slave walked a trusty Egyptian who started on a long before his master, sullen and slow, the journey for him, and never returned. string of the camel slack in his hand, * He met his fate in the desert," thought and his eyes fixed on the ground. Turn Abdallah," he was starved to death that which way he would he was blasted by I might increase my gains. I remember the sight of human faces. Men of all now that his wife told ine this, but I ranks and conditions rejoiced at his feigned to think it false, and refused her abasement. Children climbed up arches a single piastre. I am punished now, and gateways to get a glimpse of him; for I am in the desert myself. Allah for: citizens pointed him out to strangers, bid that his fate sòould be mine!” and veiled women peered at himn from He cast his eyes over the sea of rolling latticed balconies. Many of his debtors sand, and sighed aloud. Up to this time, were present, and merry enough they and it was now the second day of the were too. It was not every day that journey, he had made no complaint; but they could pay their debts so easily! now bis limbs began to fail him from ex

After traversing the principal streets cessive weariness. The hot sand burnt of the city, passing squares, markets, and his tender feet, the waste of fint, bazaars, the shekh halted to make room into which the caravan had come, cut for a processsion. First came a file of him to the very bone, and his steps soldiers loaded with swords and daggers, were marked with blood. and armfulls of sashes and shawls ; then In the afternoon the caravan halted at a row of black slaves, each with a jar of a valley well, and pitched their tents for gold or jewels on his head; and lastly, the night. The valley was a mere gully, the head eunuch leading a veiled girl, the bed of some ancient river, and the who trembled under her veil! The heart well a pit of brackish water. A stunted of the slave sank within him. It was palın rustled in the burning air, and a the spoil of his own bazaars which the few brave tufts of grass disputed the saSaltan had just seized, and his own child premacy of the sand. It was a dreary Zuleika on her way to the accursed Ha- place, but it seemed a garden to the rem! A mist swam before the eyes of the weary Abdallah. wretched man; he staggered a step, and The camels were fed and tethered for fell senseless in the dust.

the night: the shekh and his sons sat When he came to himself he was tra- cross-legged in the tent and related marFelling with a caravan, for the tribe vellous tales; the slaves huddled towhose slave he had become, were jour- gether, and sang wild songs in strange neying back to the desert. The shekh tongues; but Abdallah, stood alone in rode at their head, and Abdallah led bis the shade of the palm. His first impulse camel over the sand.

was flight, but a glance at his swollen An ocean of yellow sand stretched feet convinced him of its utter folly. away on all sides till it reached the edge Had he needed anything else to deter of the horizon. Not a tree or plant was him he could have found it in the hyena to be seen anywhere, not even a blade tracks which surrounded the valley. of grass. The sky was without a cloud, He threw himself under the stunted intensely blue and bright, and the sun & palin, and strove to forget the change in perfect glaro of light.

his fortunes. He was no longer Abdal

lah the slave, nor yet Abdallah the mer- The dew crept into the heart of the chant, but Abdallah the man, a man flowers, and the flowers breathed their alone with nature.

fragrance to the falling dew. InnumThe stars were out by thousands, erable were the examples of Nature, that sparkling in the deep blue sky, and the it is necessary to give, as well as to remoon lifted her horn above the rim of ceive. Yes, and even to give when the desert. The first news that Abdallah there is no hope of receiving in return. had of her presence was a long ray of “ The desert, for instance," thought Ablight which she shot full in his eyes. dallah, " what can the sun hope to gain He turned his head aside and it glinted by shining on its rocks and billows of on the surface of the well. A second sand ? For leagues there is no living followed it, and discovered what the thing, save now and then a scorpion, or dusk had for some time concealed, the a straggling blade of grass. Yet the dusky faces of the glaves as they sang sun shines as generously there as in the their strange wild songs. Then Abdallah gardens of Cashmere, and the stars, and saw the white tent of the shekh, and the queenly moon brighten the solitude the group of tethered camnels, and then with their luminous siniles: And the the stretch of desert beyond.

great God of the heavens, the infinite There was something in the moon- and everlasting Allah, who made and light which made everything it shone overlooks the worlds--of what avail to upon beautiful, even the stern old shekh Him are the prayers, and the lives of who came to the door of his tent to even the holiest? Yet the hands of the watch the slaves. It softened the heart great Father are always stretched forth of Abdallah and filled him with tender with blessings and bounties, and his ears and dreamy thoughts. He remembered are always open to the cries of his how often he had seen it shining on the children." mosques and domes of Cairo, and how it “I have not performed my part," said flooded the walks of his garden, and Abdallah sauly; "as God and Nature dripped from the walls of his beloved perform theirs, but from this hour I will kiosk. Then his fancy wandered, as a amend my life. I have not fallen in vain moonlight fancy sometimes will, to ruin- since I have learned to fulfil my duty. ous old houses, and he saw the Beggar's God is great!" Quarter as it was on the previous morn- He rose from his seat beneath the ing. The houses were old still, with palın, and walked to the edge of the walls and chimneys leaning to a fall; valley, where he saw a stunted colycinth yet their decay seemed in some degree growing alone in the sand. Curiosity repaired, for the chinks and doors were impelled him to view it closer, and he closed, he knew not how, while the hastened to it, although it grew in the windows were curtained with white. midst of the hyena tracks. Stooping on

“ If the moonlight does so much for his hands and knees he brushed the sand the beggar's houses," thought Abdallah, from it, and found that it was dying for “what might not human kindness do for want of moisture. Its leaves were the beggars ?" It was a manly thought, shrivelled with heat, and the poor melon and it ennobled even while it grieved which it strove to shelter, was fairly him. He pondered over his past life, its

wilted on the stem. It was a worthless narrow selfishness and blindness, and plant at best; so bitter that no animal giving himself up to the influences could eat it; but its forlorn condition around was initiated into the mysteries touched the heart of Abdallah, and of nature. And the first thing that the retracing his steps to the well he prouniversal mother taught him was that ceeded to water it, using for that purnothing exists for itself alone. He saw, pose a fragment of the broken cruse in thought, the moon and stars shining which he picked up in the desert. That on the earth, and the earth baring her done he bowed his head to the Holy brow to receive their light, giving her City, and said the prayers of the Faithown in return. The land gradually

The land gradually ful, and, creeping among the camels, he crumbled into the sea on one side of the was soon fast asleep. world, while the sea as gradually with- The caravan rose at dawn, and redrew its waters from the land on the sumed their march. The first good deed other. The clouds covered the moun- of Abdallah repaid him well; for the tains with snow: the snow melted and colycinth was green and fresh. It waved formed rivors: the rivers with mist fed its leaves to him at parting, and the the clonds; and the clouds turned into shine of its yellow melon was brighter snow. and again covered the mountains. than gold.

The sky above, and the sand below; wall of the city, and the fringe of pains

desert of blue, and a desert of yellow. overlooking it. Gardens and grain-fields In the upper desert marched the sun, barred the north ; on the south and showering abroad his spears of fire, in west ran the Nile, alive with glancing the under desert the 'shekh and his sails. The Mokattam hills were flooded tribe, vainly endeavoring to ward them with light, and the mosques and minarets off.

blazed with rosy flames. It was too like Sun, and sand, and hot wind. Frag- Cairo, not to be Cairo itself! Abdallah ments of bleaching bones. A winding rubbed his eyes, like a man awaking string of men and camels, and a solitary from a dream, and found to his great swooping kite!

joy that he had not stirred froin the About noon they were startled by a square. The beggar still stood before mirage. It was the first that Abdallah him, holding out his hand for alms, and had ever seen, and he marvelled greatly in the distance he saw the Captain of thereat. It grew up from the sand sud- the Sultan's Guard! Hardly a moment denly, and assumed the shape of a band had elapsed, and yet Abdallah had passed of roving Bedouins, a tribe of desert through so many changes of fortune. robbers, mounted on flying stallions, and It was like the prophet's living in the armed with long spears which they seventh heaven seventy thousand years, brandished furiously.

while a drop of water was falling from Then it became the house of Abdal- his pitcher to the ground. lah, a perfect picture of his lost mansion "I have not dreamed in vain," said in Cairo. Like that, its walls were the thankful and humbled merchant, striped with red; its balconies shaded “ for I have learned to perform my duty. the street; the fountain played in its Here, my brother, is alins for thee,” and kiosk; and a mock Zuleika walked in he gave the beggar a piece of gold; the shade of its unreal trees!

“ depart in peace, and be happy. For Its third change was into the Beggars' me-I will go and pray. God is Great!" Quarter, which seemed more wretched, “God is Great!"-the muezzins took if that were possible, than when Ab- up the cry, and passed it from minaret dallah saw it last. Some of the houses to minaret, till the morning wind was bad fairly tumbled down, nearly all the vocal with the sound. The faithful windows and doors were gone, and the heard it in their houses, and came poursqualid wretches had multiplied in every ing into the streets, and sought the nearroom. Parents had strangled their child- est mosque. Every man drew the slipren, and were weeping for them; child- pers from his feet, and, crossing the sacred ren bad grown up, and were beating threshold, worshipped God and the their parents; and the girl with sequins Prophet. There were many solemn in her hair-she lay stone dead in the prayers said that day, and many grateful street !

men in Cairo, but none that were more Then the mirage surrounded Abdallah, devout than Abdallah, the merchant. and became the very square in which he “For, by the grace of God," he said, was stopped by the beggar. He stared “I am still Abdallah the Merchant, and down the long streets, and saw the white not Abdallah the Slave."

"

OUR GIVEN NAMES. “WHO gave you this name?"

death we associate them together. How "My sponsors in baptism." important, then, is it that no one should Then these sponsors have much to suffer for his name, that no unpleaanswer for in this matter of naming, to sant, ridiculous, or infainous associations say nothing of the obligations that they should be connected with it, but rather take upon themselves.

that it should be honorable and honored. The name of a person is a sound that It is true that the fair Juliet, in a passuggests the idea of him. It is indisso- sage often quoted and oftener misquoted, Inbly united with every notion of him; asks the name and the man are more closely " What's in a name? that which we call a rose, bound than man and wife, for even after “ By any other name would smell as sweet.”

riot or petty larceny. A classical tasto inspires others, who are not always very particular in the names, provided they smack of the ancients, owing to which, it happens that there is a boy now living in Philadelphia who has been christened -if we may thus use the word-after Commodus, one of the most infamous of the Roman Emporors.

The late Bishop Chase, of Illinois, had a dislike to having Greek and Roman names imposed upon children, which he displayed very pointedly on one occasion when a child was brought to him to be baptized.

“Name this child,” said the bishop.

“ Marcus Tullius Cicero," answered the father.

" What?"
"Marcus Tullius Cicero.

“Tut! tut! with your heathen nonsense! Peter, I baptize thee," and the child was Peter thenceforth and for

ever.

Very true; but we do not go to names for smells, any more than to colors for music. And in the instance that she gives, what a loss it would have been to the world, if the word “rose” had not existed as the title of the queen of flowers; but, instead of it, some such common unmusical word as turnip or squash had been selected by the founders of the English tongue ! What could poets have done with such a word? Where would they have found rhymes for it? The queen of flowers should have a name of beauty, and she has it. We are not able, at present, to say how many of the modern languages of Europe call this flower by a name resembling rose, or identical with it! but we believe that all of them do, which are based in any degree upon the Latin tongue, which had iis rosa, a derivative and improvement upon the rodon of the Greeks. Juliet is in a very small minority upon this question.

And we would strengthen our position as to the importance of first names, by quoting Sterne's remark, that no one has ever thought of calling a child after Judas Iscariot. Some come pretty near it when they select the name Judah, which is radically the same name as Judas, but how carefully do they stop here! What an immense difference does a single letter, an H for an S, make!

We say given names, not Christian names, as is niore common; for it is not every one having a first name that has a Ohristian name, as was exemplified in the case of Mr. Levi, who appeared as a witness before the Lord Mayor of London.

“What is your Christian name, Mr. Levi?” said that civic functionary.

“I have not got any, my Lord,” was the reply. “I am a Jew, but my first pame is Moses."

Various are the tastes in the selection of a name for a child-various are the motives that influence the decision. Sometimes a rich friend or relation is to be conciliated, and therefore some barbarous designation is affixed to a child that is a thorn in his side as long as he lives; and after all, the unfortunate may miss the expected legacy. Sometimes the name of some distinguished man is selected, to which the life of the new wearer adds no new lustre ; thus we see George Washington and John Wesley occasionally figuring in the police reports, as the names of people arrested for

Others, again, set much store by Scripture names, many of which to our ears are anything but melodious—for instance, Obadiah, Jeremiah, and all the other iahs; but this fashion is not near so prevalent as it was a century or two ago.

Some of the Bible names have much sweetness, such as Beulah, RuHamah, and Rhoda, but even these are rarely used.

The story is well known of the man, who, having called four sons after Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John, wished to have the fifth christened Acts, because, as he said, he “wanted to compliment the apostles a bit ;” but the sequel, as given by Mr. Lower, in the last edition of his valuable work on “English surnames,” is not so familiar to us. It appears that the father had two other sons, who were christenod Ricbard and Thomas, and that the story of the name that had been proposed for No. 5, getting wind amongst his schoolmates, he was constantly annoyed with baving this distich repeated, of better metre than rhyme

“Matthew, Mark, Luke and John,

Acts of 'Postles, Dick and Tom." Some persons appear to have tried how near they could come to the height of absurdity, in giving names to their children. Benjamin Stokeley, the first white settler in Mercer county, Pennsylvania (whose account thereof is in the fourth volume of the Memoirs of the Historical Society of Pennsylvania), gave most extraordinary names to all his children; at present, but one of them occurs to our memory-Aurora Borealis -by which he thought proper to desigDate one of his daughters. A Mr. Stickney, a distant relative of Dr. Franklin, numbered his children, calling them One Stickney, Two Stickney, &c. We might mention bere, the case of Mr. New, who is said to have called his first child, Something, and the next, Nothing; but the story is probably the creation of the fertile imagination of Mr. Joseph Miller, or some of his successors.

We will venture to add a few rules, which are the results of our reflections upon this subject.

1. The son should not be called after his father, nor the daughter after her mother.

The object of giving first names is to distinguish a person from all others bearing the same last name, particularly from those of his immediate family; but this latter is not attained when a child bears the name of its parent. Confusion must always follow, not always to be avoided by the additions of senior and junior, or the designations, 1st, 2d, &c., which are common in New England.

An eminent lawyer, who adorned the Philadelphia bar, forty or fifty years ago, had a son with the same first name as himself, who was studying law in his office. One day a letter arrived without any addition of junior, but intended for the younger, which the elder gentleman opened and read. It was from a source not very creditable to any one.

"I am ashamed of you," said the father indignantly, handing it to his son.

“I am ashamed of you, sir,” replied the son, handing it back, with his finger pointed at the direction.

One of the sons of the Benjamin Stokely of whom we have spoken above, was born during his father's absence from home. On his return, his wife told him that she had called the child Benjamin, after him. “None of that,” cried be, ** I have no notion of hearing people talking of old Ben Stokely."

This confusion is one objection to the practice which we condemn; another is ti.at if a parent calls a child after himself, he is in danger of becoming partial to that child, at the expense of the others. This is a feeling which makes its way into the minds of even good men and good women; it seems to some that a child bearing their name in full

, is more fully their representative than

others. As this is all wrong, it is best to prevent the arising of such feelings, by giving no occasion for their existence.

2. The more common a last name is, the more uncommon should the first name be. We can pardon almost any prefix to Smith, Brown, and Jones. As one of the learned fathers of the bar lately observed in a discourse, "Who shall declare the generation of the Smiths, and especially of the John Smiths?” The very mention of John Smith in a court-house, police office, or other public place and it is of frequent mention therein-brings a broad grin into every one's face immediately.

3. No name should be given to a child that will suggest a ludicrous idea when written in full, or when the initial only is used. We always pitied Mr. P. Cox, and Mr. T. Potts, both worthy men, but with thoughtless godfathers.

Middle-aged persons, in Philadelphia, can recollect a druggist, named Ash, (now deceased) whose friends had selected Caleb for his first name. He was constantly annoyed with inquiries from school-boys, and others of the rising generation, as to the residence of Mr. Calabash.

Forty or fifty years ago a very worthy little French tailor, named Frogg, resided in Charleston, S. O., and on the birth of one of his sons some wags persuaded him that it would be a very good thing for the child to call bim after the chief magistrate of the State-Governor Bull, which was done accordingly, the unlucky combination of the two names never striking the father until it was too late.

4. Females should bave but one given name and when they marry, should retain their maiden name as a middle name. This is the practice among the Society of Friends, and were it generally adopted it would have many advantages. We should know at once, on seeing a lady's name whether she was married or single, and, if the former, what the name of her family was. And it is further to be considered that the adoption of this rule of but a single first name for girls, would put an end for ever to the whole brood of Emma Milvindas and Euphemia Helen Lauras, and a style of nomenclature which is thought by most persons to be ridicnlous in the extreme.

Have many of our readers seen the pretty verses on the raising of a child, written by Mary, the unhappy sister of Charles Lamb?' We shall presume that

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