sons visited Logan Braes, for it was thought that old Laurence's brain had received a shock, from which it might never recover; but the trouble that tried him had subsided, and the inside of the house was again quiet as before, and its hospitable door open to all the neighbours. OLD ENGLISH POETRY. No. II. A CONTENTED MIND. By JOSHUA SYLVESTER. I weigh not Fortune's frown or smile, I quake not at the thunder's crack, I see ambition never pleased, I see some Tantals starved in store; I see gold's dropsy seldom eased, I feign not friendship where I hate, HAJEE SALAH, THE CROSS-GRAINED. ACCORDING to the law in Mahomedan countries, if a man pronounces three divorces against a free woman, or two against a slave, he can lawfully wed neither of them again, unless they have been espoused by another, and this second husband dies, or shall divorce them. When it happens, however, that a husband wishes to recover his wife, whom he had divorced in a passion, a convenient husband is sought; but the law forbids a mockery being made of such marriages. They may be short in duration, but the parties must live, during the period they are united, as man and wife. There is a celebrated story of a merchant called Hajee Salah Kej-Khoolk, the cross-grained, told in four different ways, and particularly that incident in his life relating to his having, in one of those bursts of passion to which he was liable, divorced, for the third time, a beautiful young female of high rank, whose parents this old, ugly, ill-humoured, wealthy man, had bribed, by settling a large dowry upon her. According to one edition of this tale, the old Hajee was at the town of Nishapoor in Khorassan, when, in a violent fit of rage, he pronounced the last divorce upon the lady, whose name was Maidee. She immediately left his house and went to her parents. They, though moved at first by the tears with which she implored them to assist her in resisting all proposals for a re-union with a husband whom she abhorred, soon gave way to the worldly motives which induced them to desire her return to a person who was continually making them presents, and who was now more generous than ever, in the hope of inducing them to promote his interests with one, of whom, notwithstanding his conduct, he was distractedly fond. Maidee seeing no other opportunity of escape from the continued importunities to which she was exposed, listened to the proposals, made through the old nurse, of a youth of the name of Omar, who, though poor, was of a respectable family, and whose sister was one of the wives of the governor of the town. This sister had seen Maidee at the public bath, and it was the account which she gave of her surprising beauty and great dower that determined Omar to try every means to make her his wife. The good nurse, who was attached to the family of Omar, painted his personal appearance and qualities to Maidee in such colours, that she was quite willing to allow him to be the instrument of her deliverance. The plot was soon settled; Maidee, with affected reluctance, consented to the proposals of Hajee Salah for a re-union, provided the person chosen to be her husband for twentyfour hours, was of respectable family and good appearance. These conditions she insisted upon as indispensable to her reputation. Besides, she now also pretended that absence had revived her regard for the old Hajee, and she desired the merit of showing (by the sacrifice of a husband whom many might prefer to him) that her attachment was sincere. The old merchant, in raptures at the prospect of repossessing his favourite, agreed to all she proposed. An agent was immediately appointed to look out for a person of the description she desired, but whose circumstances were such as to make him consent to act the discreditable part of a convenient husband. Omar threw himself in the way of this agent, and contrived to utter, in his hearing, boastings of his family, complaints of his relatives, and of the consequent poverty and despair to which he was reduced. "If I had been a dishonourable fellow," said he, speaking to a companion, but loud enough for the agent to hear, “and one that could have consented to break my pledged word, I might have made my fortune; but, thank God, I am not such a man: I would embrace ruin, and encounter death a thousand times, before I would depart from or violate any promise I had made. I have made up my mind to leave Nishapoor: why should I remain ? I know not that I shall have a morsel to eat to-morrow." So saying, he abruptly quitted his friend, and walked down the street. He was followed by the agent, who saw, in the respectability of his family, his poverty, and, above all, his determined adherence to his word, the very person of whom he was in search. Omar stopped under some trees at the skirts of the town, where the agent came up to him. "A fine evening," said the latter. "I am indifferent as to the state of the weather," replied the apparently agitated Omar. "You seem to have some distress of mind?” "That cannot concern you," said the youth. "You know not," said the wily agent, "aid often comes through means the least expected; if you confide your griefs to me, humble as I appear, I may be able to administer relief." This, and some more soothing speeches, led Omar, with apparent reluctance, to open his heart and relate his story. He was, he told the agent, the youngest son of a Turkuman chief, well known in the plains of Kipchack. He had lately offended his father, by refusing to reveal the place of concealment of a man to whom he had promised protection, and was therefore banished his presence. He had made an offer of his services at Nishapoor; but, after these were accepted, he had been compelled to abandon this prospect, and to part with his horse, his sword, and all he possessed in the world, rather than violate a pledge he had given to an unfortunate friend, whose debts he had just paid by expending the last dinar he had in the world. "But," he added, "to-morrow's sun will not find me in Nishapoor; I shall trust my stars to guide me to some land where I may be more fortunate." The agent praised his high sense of honour, and, after much circumlocution, proposed to present him with a hundred tomans, provided he would consent to marry the beautiful Maidee one day, divorce her the next, and instantly quit the country, never to return. Omar pretended at first to be highly indignant at â proposal which he thought derogatory to his honour; but his scruples were gradually removed, and he at length took the money, and pledged that word and honour, which had hitherto been his ruin, that he would do every thing which was required. No time was lost in preparing the contract of marriage; the nuptials were celebrated with all due ceremony, and the new-married couple remained alone in a house in a retired part of the town, which had been prepared for them. When Maidee was unveiled, her beauty far exceeded all that the imagination of Omar had dared to depict her. He was in raptures, and she was equally enchanted with him. They mutually vowed that, whatever was the success of their plan, no power should ever separate them. The dawn of the following morning found Hajee Salah at the door, anxious to abridge the happiness of the lovers as much as the law would permit. He had knocked several times, and called to the inmates, without receiving any answer, when he was nearly stunned by a blow on the head, and, turning round, saw a savage-looking Turkuman mounted on a large horse, armed with a long spear, with the shaft of which he had inflicted the blow. "Hold my horse," said the fellow as he dismounted, "while I go into the house." "You have two hands, you old rascal," said another savage, giving him a second blow, and making him hold the horse on which he rode. Before the poor Hajee could recover from his surprise, a party of twenty Turkumans, with their chief, were around him. He showed an intention of escaping, but that only produced an order for his being put to death, if he attempted to move from the spot. "Where is the darling boy?" exclaimed the chief; "I have forgiven him all: I long to clasp him in my arms!" "Renowned Kadir Beg," said one of his followers who had just come out of the house, " you have more to forgive than you are aware of; your son is mar"Married!" exclaimed the old chief. "Is the ried." |