Chapter IV: Part 4

As soon as Kalan appeared before the calif, "I will not," said the latter, "ask you any artful questions, such as may lead you inadvertently to criminate yourself; and, in the course of this business I will be your judge and counsellor, and will afford you every opportunity of clearing yourself of the charge laid against you. You cannot forget how precious I told you was the time I allowed you for the completion of your embassy; yet it has been reported to me, that you stopped five days on the road, to enjoy yourself in the lap of pleasure, without blushing at the praises you received for that one day, which I supposed your zeal and attachment to my interest had procured me. Say, are these things true?"

"My dread sovereign," replied Kalan, "had I a soul mean enough of having recourse to a falsehood to cover a crime, I should perhaps answer in the negative; but, sorry I am to say, that the charge is true. I really did saunter away in idleness five whole days at Gauri. I was intoxicated; yes, commander of the faithful, I was intoxicated with a passion that destroyed all my other faculties. I know I have merited death; but it is not the fear of death that terrifies me, but the hateful recollection of having displeased my friend and sovereign. Having completed the business of my embassy, and being arrived, on my return, at Gauri, wanting horses, and my slave too being harassed with the journey, I resolved to stop one night, which was the first I had indulged myself in from the time of my leaving the palace.

"Having taken a little refreshment, and being seated near a window, I suddenly heard a voice in the adjoining chamber strike forth in such melodious notes, that nothing could equal it. I listened with eager attention, and could plainly distinguish they were the lamentations of love. I was in great doubt to determine which were the more excellent, the music or the words. As soon as she had finished, I enquired who she was, and found it was the daughter of my host; that her voice was not her only merit, since the words were of her own composition, and besides, she was said to be as lovely as Venus, and as chaste as Diana.

"No wonder if this description excited my desire to see her; and I begged the caravanserist would gratify my wish. He for some time objected; but I persisted in my request, and at last, his great respect for the ambassador of Mahmoud made him yield to my entreaties. The moment she appeared I was enamoured with her beauty; but, when I heard her play upon her harp, O powerful love! my embassy, my duty as a subject, and the punishment to which my delay might expose me, every thing of this sort was totally forgotten.

"All my thoughts were absorbed at this time in one wish only, that of being beloved by Zada. I offered my hand in marriage, but during two days she made many trifling excuses. On the third day she confessed, that if ever she could love any man, it probably would be me. The fourth day she received my addresses, and on the fifth gave me every thing to hope for. On the arrival of the evening of this day, she happened to mention your name, when, recollecting myself, I became fully sensible of my guilt. She perceived my confusion, and begged to know the cause of it. As soon as I told her, she insisted on my setting out that night--that very night on which I promised myself so much felicity.

"Sensible I am that I merit death, for having thus shamefully neglected my duty; but one thing I have to beg, that my sufferings may not be long."

All was silent for a few moments. After which said the calif--"Your punishment shall be the slowest that human ingenuity can possibly invent. Imprisonment shall be your fate as long as life shall be able to support it. Take him hence, soldiers, and let his treatment henceforward be the severest man can endure."

The soldiers conducted Kalan to his place of confinement, and the courtiers followed him with their eyes, which seemed to be moistened with tears, while their hearts rejoiced in his disgrace.

In about an hour or two after this event, it was reported, that the calif had dispatched a messenger; but no one could tell whither, or on what account. In the course of the five following days, the name of Kalan was forgotten; but on the sixth, to the astonishment of every one, the calif ordered him again to be brought before him.

As soon as Kalan appeared, the calif, after asking him some taunting questions, "Yes," said he, "a song on some voluptuous subject, and a harp in that fair damsel's hand you saw upon your journey, made you negligent of what you knew your duty. I am, therefore, resolved both to punish and remind you of the fault you have committed, by decreeing, that in future you shall listen to such songs as are descriptive of complaining lovers. Let the Egyptian take her harp and play upon it."

Instantly was heard a voice so sweet, that Mahmoud's courtiers scarce dared to breathe, for fear of interrupting so much harmony. As soon as it began, the prisoner gave a cry, fell down, and beat the ground with his forehead.

"Rise, Kalan," said the calif, "and hear your sentence. You that at present surround my throne," speaking to his courtiers, "who so often stand in need of indulgence, tell me, which among you, being in Kalan's place, on the point of having all his wishes accomplished, and after having passed five days in the pursuit of it, would not have presumed to hazard a sixth day?" (_Here a pause ensued._) "No answer?--Kalan, since even envy thus keeps silence, you find favour with your king. Take your Zada, therefore, and be happy for the time to come; she is now yours."

Kalan, after having thrown himself at the feet of the calif, was no sooner risen up than he flew into the arms of his beloved Zada. They retired in mutual embraces; and the courtiers with hearts full of envy and fell malignity.

_Female Courage properly considered._

The Rev. Mr. Sherlock being one day in company with a number of young ladies, the conversation happened to turn on the courage of their own sex. One observed, that Miss Lovelace had a resolution above being curbed by her guardians, and was determined to dress as she liked; while another gave it as her opinion, that it would be better for her to check her temper, and submit to the will of her guardians. "If ever I should be married," said one of the young ladies, "I think I shall have courage enough to make my husband do as I please."--"You may be right, miss," said another, "but I think, should I ever be married, I shall always consult my husband's opinion, and readily submit to it, whenever reason seems to require it."

The young ladies kept up this kind of conversation for some time; when, at last, finding their opinions were so different, they requested the reverend divine to give them his sentiments, wherein true female courage consisted.

"I have," said Dr. Sherlock, "been listening to your conversation, and, as you have been pleased to appeal to me, I shall speak truth, without the least reserve. I hope you will attend to what I am going to say, and treasure it up in your minds.

"I consider _true_ courage as one of the noblest ornaments of the fair sex, since it must be allowed, that without a becoming resolution, many female accomplishments would be lost, and sunk in obscurity, and that even virtue itself, unassisted by true courage, would soon dwindle to a shadow. I doubt not but that each of you amiable young ladies flatter yourselves with being possessed of this noble accomplishment; but permit me to tell you, that it is not every possessor of a pretty face who knows what it is. It is not Xantippe, but Lucretia, whom I call the woman of true courage.

"Xantippe is the daughter of two noble personages, and the wife of a sensible and prudent man; the mother of a blooming offspring, and the sole mistress of a plentiful fortune, the produce of which her husband cannot receive without her order. Elated with the thoughts of her high birth, and sensible of the dependence her husband has on her will, she subjects him to the most rigorous discipline, is cruelly severe to her children, and arbitrary and tyrannical over her servants.--Insolent and disdainful in her behaviour to her equals, and haughty and arrogant in her demeanour to her superiors, her jealousy is equalled only by her ill-nature; the most innocent freedom of her husband to a visitor is sufficient to give rise to the former; and the most trifling repartee is sure to occasion the latter. These are her qualities, which she is so far from endeavouring to amend, that she considers them as marks of true courage; or, to speak in a more polite phrase, they make her pass for a woman of spirit!

"How reverse is the conduct of Lucretia!--Possessed of no other fortune than what good sense and a proper education give her, she passes through life with peace and serenity of mind.--The will of her husband, the care of her children, and the due preservation of order and economy in her house, are her principal studies. Easy, good-natured, and affable to her equals, and humble, submissive, and obliging to her superiors; as no height of prosperity makes her forgetful of adversity, so no storms of angry fortune are able to disturb the calm within her breast, or deprive her of that hope with which true courage will always support those who possess it.

"True courage, rightly understood, and properly cultivated, will inspire the fair sex with the noblest sentiments of honour and generosity. It will elevate their minds above those mean and paltry methods, which too many of them put in practice, to captivate the hearts of the giddy and unthinking. It will raise in them a noble and emulative zeal for literary studies, which will rescue them from the odium that is too frequently, and too justly, cast on many of them, of being pretty, but silly, prattling creatures. It is true courage only that can raise in them such sentiments as shall preserve them the esteem and affection of all, when the bloom of youth shall be lost in the evening of life; when the lily and rose shall fade on their cheek, and the beautiful form of their persons can be no longer admired.

"I have now, young ladies, given you my opinion of what really ought to be considered as _true courage_ in your sex, and I hope it will have some influence on your minds, as well as on your conduct in the commerce of this busy world. It is not at all surprising, that you young ladies should differ in your opinions on so delicate a question, since _true courage_ is, in these times of refinement, considered in a very different light to what it was in the remote ages of antiquity. In order to amuse you, and perhaps instruct you, I shall beg your attention to a piece of ancient history; from which you will judge what was the barbarous ideas the ladies of antiquity had of true courage.

"Mithridates, king of Pontus, proving unsuccessful in the war in which he was engaged against Lucullus, a Roman general, had shut up two of his wives (for the custom of that country allowed of a plurality) and two of his sisters, whom he most loved, in that part of his kingdom which was the most remote from danger. At last, not being able to brook the apprehensions of their falling into the hands of the Romans, he sent orders to Bacchalides, a eunuch, to put them to death. The manner in which they received this order, strongly marks the ideas the ladies of those times and regions had of true courage.

"Berenice and Monimes were these unfortunate princesses. The first was born in the island of Chio, and the other in Miletus, a city of Ionia, towards the borders of Cairo, on the coast of the Ægean Sea. Monimes was celebrated for the invincible resistance which she made to all the offers of Mithridates, who was most violently in love with her, and to which she never consented, till he had declared her queen, by calling her his wife, and sending her the royal diadem--a ceremony indispensable in the marriage of kings in that part of the world.

"However, even then she consented with reluctance, and only to gratify the inclinations of her family, who were dazzled with the lustre of the crown and power of Mithridates, who was at that time victorious and loaded with glory. Monimes abandoned herself to a perpetual melancholy, which the abject slavery in which Mithridates kept his wives, the distance she then was from Greece, where she had no hopes of returning, and perhaps too, a secret passion, which she always disguised, rendered insurmountable.

"When Bacchalides had declared to them the fatal message, and that they were at liberty to chuse what death appeared to them the most easy, Monimes tore off the royal bandage which she always wore on her head, and, fixing it round her neck, endeavoured to strangle herself; but the bandage broke, and left her in a condition truly to be pitied. 'Unfortunate diadem,' said she, trampling it under her feet, 'thou hast brought me to all my miseries! thou hast been witness of my slavery and wretchedness! Why wouldst thou not at last help me to put an end to them all?'--After having shown these marks of her resentment, she snatched a dagger from the hand of Bacchalides, and sheathed it in her bosom.

"Berenice swallowed the dreadful potion with astonishing resolution, and obeyed, without murmuring, the frenzy of a barbarous lover.

"The king's two sisters, Statira and Roxana, followed the example of Berenice. Roxana, after having a long time kept a profound silence, swallowed the fatal draught, and died without uttering a single word. As for Statira, after having shown her grief for the king's defeat, she highly praised his conduct, and ordered Bacchalides to thank him for thinking of her amidst the wreck of his affairs, and thereby securing her, by a timely death, from the shameful slavery of the Romans."

Dr. Sherlock having now finished, the young ladies all rose and thanked him for the instruction he had been pleased to give them. They assured him, that they should in future endeavour to distinguish between the _true courage_ of these modern times, and those in which lived the wives and sisters of Mithridates.

_The beautiful Statue._

One of the kings of Balsora proved unfortunate in the choice of his queen, whose temper was as disgustful and displeasing as her person was lovely and beautiful. Discontented with every one around her, she made her own life miserable, and did all she could to interrupt the happiness of others.

They had an only son, and his father began very early to turn his thoughts, in what manner he should secure the young prince, when he came of age, from forming a connection in matrimony so disagreeable as his own. "If it should please Heaven," said he, "to spare my life till my son shall attain the years of discretion, I then shall be able properly to direct him in the search of a prudent wife; but, as there is no certainty in human life, and as I may be taken from him in his early days, before he can be capable of comprehending my admonitions, I will leave proper instructions with my executors, who, I hope, will fulfil my requests, when I shall be at rest in my peaceful grave."

In consequence of this resolution, the king took every precaution he thought necessary in so important a business; and scarcely had he finished his regulations, when the unrelenting decree of death summoned him from this world to take up his eternal abode in the ever-blooming regions of felicity.

No sooner was the king dead than his will was examined. By this it was directed, that his son Achmet should be instructed in all the principles of rigid virtue, and in every scientific accomplishment necessary to form the mind of a wise and good prince. It was also directed, that at the age of eighteen years he should be put in possession of all his wealth, which was deposited in spacious vaults under the palace. The will, however, strongly directed that these vaults were not to be opened, under any pretence whatever, before the appointed time, on pain of Achmet losing the whole contents of them.

It may easily be supposed what were the anxieties of a youthful mind, while he waited with impatience for the arrival of that day, which was to make him master of so many hidden treasures. At length the day arrived, the vaults were opened, and the heart of Achmet leaped within his bosom at the sight of such unbounded riches.

Amidst all this glare of profuse wealth, in one particular apartment of the vault, the eye of Achmet was caught by the dazzling view of nine pedestals of massy gold, on eight of which stood as many beautiful adamantine statues.

Achmet could not help expressing his astonishment, where his father could collect such uncommon and valuable curiosities. The ninth pedestal, however, increased his surprise, and he could not conceive why that alone should be without a statue on it. On going nearer to it, he found it covered with a piece of satin, upon which were written these words: "My dear Achmet, the acquisition of these statues has cost your father much; yet, beautiful as they are, you see there is one wanting, which is far more brilliant than either of those which now present themselves to your view. This, however, must be sought for in a remote quarter of the world, and, if you wish to be possessed of it, you must depart for Cairo, in the kingdom of Egypt. You will there find one Alibeg, formerly one of my slaves. Inform him who you are, and what is your business. He will properly direct your pursuits after this incomparable statue, the possession of which will make you one of the happiest and greatest monarchs of the East."

As soon as Achmet had appointed proper persons to govern his kingdom in his absence, he set out in quest of this grand object. He pursued his journey without any thing particular happening; and, on his arrival at Cairo, he soon found out the house of Alibeg, who was supposed to be one of the richest persons in that city.

As Alibeg knew the time was nearly advanced, in which he was to expect a visit from Achmet, the arrival of the latter at Cairo did not at all surprise him. However, he appeared ignorant of the business; enquired of him what brought him to that city, his name, and his profession. To all these questions Achmet gave the most satisfactory answers; and informed him, that it was a statue he was engaged in the pursuit of.

This declaration of Achmet seemed at once to convince Alibeg, that he was talking with the son of the late king; and he blessed the great prophet for permitting him so honourable an interview. "My dear and honoured prince," said Alibeg, "your father bought me as a slave, and never made me free; consequently I am a slave still, and all my property is yours."--"From this moment," replied Achmet, "you are a free man, and I for ever renounce any future claim on your person or possessions."

Alibeg then assured the young king, that he would do every thing in his power to procure him the ninth statue he was so ardent in the pursuit of; but advised him, after so fatiguing a journey, to take a few weeks rest. The next day, however, the king told Alibeg, that he was sufficiently rested; that he came not there for pleasure, and therefore wished immediately to enter on the pursuit of his grand object.

Alibeg told him, that he should certainly obtain his wish; but reminded him, that he must encounter much toil and fatigue before he could accomplish that desirable end. "I fear neither toils nor fatigues," replied the young king, "I am equal to the task, and by the blessing of the great prophet I will undertake any thing, however difficult it may appear. I entreat you only to let me know what part I am to act."

Alibeg, after a short pause, thus addressed his youthful sovereign: "You must swear to me by the holy prophet, that, when you set out from hence, you will immediately return to your own dominions. As soon as you arrive on the borders of it, you will immediately proceed on the search of what I am going to direct you to. Your search must be to find out a youthful female, whose age must not exceed sixteen years, nor be less than fifteen. She must be the offspring of virtuous parents, and who has never been the dupe to a previous passion of love. She must be as lovely as Venus, as chaste as Diana, and a native of your own kingdom. You must, therefore, traverse every part of your extensive dominions; and as soon as you shall be so fortunate to find one who corresponds with this description, you must bring her to me, and I will soon after put you in possession of the statue you sigh for. Remember, however, that should your pursuits be attended with success, you must have the most rigorous command over your passions while you are conducting the fair one hither, and not have even the least conversation with her. If this last condition be not punctually fulfilled, you will lose all claim to what you are now in pursuit of. Consider within yourself, whether the possession of the statue has so many charms in it, as to enable you to surmount all these obstacles, so difficult to one of your age."

The young king, with an ardour natural to a youth of his years, was going to reply, when Alibeg, stopped him, by saying, that he had not yet done, but had still something further to say on the subject.

"You may idly imagine," continued Alibeg, "that should you be fortunate enough to find such a maiden as I have described to you, and your youthful ideas should lead you astray, you may imagine they will not be discovered; but herein you will be mistaken, for the great prophet will reveal your deceit, and you will thereby infallibly lose all pretensions to the statue. I must tell you still further, that, in order to give a sanction to your search for so virtuous a maiden, you must cause it to be reported, that you mean to make her the lawful partner of your throne."

Achmet listened with attention to every word that dropt from the mouth of Alibeg, and in proportion as difficulties were mentioned to him, the more did his youthful bosom burn to show how much he was above them. He eagerly took the oath prescribed to him, grew more and more impatient to become possessed of the statue, and thought every hour an age that retarded his departure in pursuit of his favourite object.

The next morning, Alibeg, being unwilling to abate the ardour of the young prince, presented him with a looking-glass. "I here give you," said he to Achmet, "an invaluable present. In the course of your pursuit, you will meet with many beautiful damsels, fair to external appearance as Aurora herself; but outward forms may deceive you, and what your eye may applaud, your heart, on a more intimate acquaintance, may despise. Believe me, royal youth, the beauties of the person and those of the mind are very different. A degenerate and wicked heart may be concealed under the most lovely external appearances. Whenever, therefore, you meet with a beautiful female, whose charms may dazzle your eye, tell her to breathe upon this mirror. If she be chaste, her breath will not long remain upon the glass; but, if her pretensions are not founded in truth, her breath will long remain on the mirror, as a testimony of the falsehood she has advanced."

These useful lessons, which Alibeg gave his royal pupil, were not the result of thoughts of his own, but were the consequence of the wise plan the late king of Balsora had prescribed for his son. He well knew that little artifices of this nature seldom failed of succeeding with youthful minds naturally fond of mystery.

The young prince took an affectionate leave of Alibeg, promised to be punctual to all his instructions, and then, taking up his miraculous glass, took the direct road from Egypt to Balsora. His intention was to commence his enquiries as soon as he reached the borders of his dominions; but a thought struck him, that it would be mean in him to seek the wished-for damsel among shepherds and peasants, when his own court furnished such a display of beauties.

As soon as he arrived in his own dominions, he proclaimed the resolution he had taken concerning marriage. He invited every maiden of fifteen years of age, who was born of virtuous parents, and had never experienced the passion of love, to repair to his court, out of which he proposed to chuse the fortunate partner of his crown and empire.

This proclamation soon surrounded his palace with the first beauties of the kingdom; but as soon as the king presented to them the mirror, which was to be the touchstone of their prudence, they all shrunk back from the trying ordeal, conscious that they could not, with safety to their characters, run the hazard of such a trial.

Here it seems necessary to say a few words by way of explanation, lest the youthful part of my readers should be led into an error. The properties which Alibeg ascribed to this looking-glass were merely fabulous, and calculated only to strike a terror on the minds of youthful females, who, from the apprehensions of being discovered in their attempt to deceive an eastern monarch, refused to breathe on the glass. So that the young prince could not find, in any part of his capital, a maiden of fifteen perfectly answerable to the terms proposed by Alibeg.

Achmet, being thus disappointed in his capital, traversed every part of his dominions, and visited even the most sequestered villages; but he every where found the morals of the people so very corrupt, that no maiden could be found who would venture to look on the mirror, which they apprehended would reveal their most trifling defects. Achmet, therefore, began to be disheartened, and feared he should at last be disappointed in the grand object of his pursuit, and never be able to obtain the statue he so ardently sighed for.

As he was one evening reposing himself in a mean habitation, situated in a lonely and recluse village, an iman came to pay him a visit, having previously learned what was the cause of the king's journey. "I must confess," said he to the king, "that your majesty is engaged in a very difficult pursuit; and I should be led to believe, that all your researches would be in vain, did I not know of a beautiful damsel, who perfectly answers to the description of your wants. Her father was formerly a vizier of Balsora; but he has now left the court, and leads a private and recluse life, solely occupied in the education of his daughter. If it is your pleasure, royal sir, I will to-morrow attend you to the habitation of this lovely damsel. Her father will undoubtedly be exceedingly happy to have the king of Balsora for his son-in-law."

Achmet very prudently replied, "I cannot think of promising to marry the beauty you mention till I have seen her, and have put her to those trials which none have yet been able to withstand. I am satisfied with your account of her beauty, but I must have proof of her virtue and prudence." The king then told him of the glass he had in his possession, and which had hitherto so far terrified every damsel, that none had dared to look into it.

The iman, however, still persisted in every thing he had advanced concerning this beautiful female; and, in consequence, they went the next morning to see her and her father. As soon as the old gentleman was acquainted with the real character and business of his royal visitor, he ordered his daughter Elvira to attend unveiled. The king was struck with wonder and astonishment, when he beheld in this beautiful damsel such perfections as his court could not equal. After gazing on her some time with inexpressible astonishment, he pulled out his glass, and acquainted the lovely Elvira with the severe trial she would be put to on looking into that mirror of truth. Her conscious innocence derided all fear, she breathed on the glass without the least apprehension, when the high-polished surface rejected the breath thrown on it, and soon recovered its usual brightness.

As Achmet was now in possession of the person he had so long wished for, he asked her father to give him his permission to marry her; to which he readily consented, and the marriage ceremony was performed with all the decency a country village would admit of.

Achmet, however, could not help feeling the impressions which the charms of Elvira had made on his mind; and, though he hastened the preparations for his departure, yet it was with evident marks of reluctance. The vizier, who attended him in the pursuit of this fair one, plainly perceived it, and enquired the cause of it.

It seemed very singular to Achmet, that the vizier should ask him such a question. "Can there be any creature," said he, "more lovely than the angel I have married? Can you be any ways surprised, should I be tempted to dispute the instructions of Alibeg, and place her as the partner of my throne?"

"Be cautious what you do," said the vizier. "It will not be becoming of a prince like you, to lose the statue after you have done so much to obtain it." This rebuke roused him, and he determined not to lose it; but he desired the vizier to keep her from his sight, as he feared he had seen her too much already.

As soon as every thing was ready, Achmet set out for Cairo, and on his arrival there was introduced to Alibeg. The fair bride had performed the journey in a litter, and had not seen the prince since she was married. She enquired where she was, and whether that was her husband's palace.

"It is time, madam," said Alibeg, "to undeceive you. Prince Achmet only aimed at getting you from your father as a present to our sultan, who wishes to have in his possession such a beautiful living picture as you are." At these words Elvira shed a torrent of tears, which greatly affected both Achmet and Alibeg. As soon as her grief would permit her to speak, "How can you," said she, "be so treacherous to a stranger! Surely the great prophet will call you to an account for this act of perfidy!"

However, her tears and arguments were in vain. Achmet, indeed, seemed to feel for her situation, which Alibeg viewed with pleasure. "You have now performed your promise," said he to Achmet, "by bringing hither this beautiful virgin. The sultan will undoubtedly reward you, by putting you in possession of the statue you seek after. I will immediately send a person to Balsora to fetch the pedestal; and, within the compass of nine days, you may expect to see it and the statue in one of the apartments of my palace; for surely you only are worthy of such a precious possession."

Elvira was immediately separated from Achmet; she made the bitterest bewailings, and wished for death to hide her sorrows and disgrace. Notwithstanding the fond desire of Achmet to be in possession of the statue, he could not reconcile his mind to the hard fate of Elvira. He reproached himself with having taken her from an indulgent father, to throw her into the arms of a tyrant. He would sometimes say with a sigh, "O beautiful damsel, cruel indeed is your condition!"

At the expiration of the nine days, which had passed between hope and sorrow, Achmet was conducted into an apartment of the palace, in order to be put in possession of the inestimable statue. But it is impossible to express his astonishment and surprise, when, instead of such a figure as he expected, he beheld the beautiful maiden he had seduced from her father.

"Achmet," said the lovely virgin, "I doubt not but your expectations are sadly disappointed, in finding me here, instead of the inestimable statue you expected, and to obtain which you have taken so much pains." As soon as Achmet had recovered from his surprise, "The great prophet can bear me witness," said he, "that I was frequently tempted to break the oath I had solemnly taken to Alibeg, and to sacrifice the idea of every statue in the world to you. I love my dear, beautiful Elvira more than all the world besides!"

"Prince Achmet," said Alibeg, "this is the ninth statue, which you have so long been in pursuit of, and which was the intentions of your father, who had contrived this method, in order to procure you a queen with whom you might be happy. Love her tenderly, be faithful to her, and in proportion as you endeavour to procure her happiness so will she yours."

Achmet, enraptured with the lovely countenance and virtuous dispositions of his dear Elvira, that day proclaimed her queen of Balsora, and thereby amply made her amends for the short disquietude he had occasioned her.

We may from hence draw this conclusion, that merit is not every where to be found; but, like diamonds of the first lustre, take up much toil and time in the pursuit. What we gain too easily, we are apt to think too little of; and we are accustomed to estimate the value of every thing in proportion to the care and pains it costs us. This the wise father of Achmet well knew, and therefore devised those means which were most likely to enable him to discover the woman of beauty, virtue, and prudence, without leaving him any hopes of finding it in the lap of pride, indolence, and luxury.

_Dorcas and Amarillis._

Dorcas was born in a village far remote from the capital, amidst rocks and precipices, in the northern parts of the island. His parents laboured hard for their daily bread, and with difficulty procured a subsistence for themselves and their little son. A fever, which they both caught, put an untimely end to their existence, and Dorcas was taken care of by the parish, being then of too tender an age even to be sensible of his loss.

His education was adapted to his humble situation, and extended no farther than writing and reading. As soon as he had reached the fifteenth years, the directors of the workhouse thought it time to ease the parish of their burden, and accordingly placed him as a servant to a neighbouring farmer, to watch his cattle, and attend to the duties of husbandry.

Amarillis was of nearly the same age, the daughter of a farmer, and employed by her father in looking after his sheep. She would frequently bring her flock into the meadows to feed and wanton on the enamelled carpet of the sweetest herbage, where she frequently met with Dorcas. The youthful shepherd did her every little service in his power, and Amarillis was pleased to see him so solicitous to oblige her. Dorcas was never so happy as when in company with his shepherdess, and Amarillis always found pleasure in the presence of Dorcas.

Some years glided away in this pleasing intercourse between Dorcas and Amarillis, when what had hitherto appeared only under the name of friendship began gradually to assume a softer title, which at last ripened into love. Their hearts were formed for each other, and they began to be uneasy when separated. Dorcas talked of the happiness of marriage, and obtained permission from Amarillis to ask her father's consent to their union.

The maiden's delicacy would not suffer her to be present when Dorcas paid his visit to her father on that business; and, therefore, appointed a time when she was obliged to go to a neighbouring town, for him to take the opportunity of opening the matter to her parent, desiring he would meet her on her way home at night, and acquaint her with the success of his commission.

At the appointed time the shepherd waited on her father, and disclosed to him the secrets of his heart, adding, how happy he should be to have her for a wife. "I suppose so," replied the old man. "What, you are in love with my daughter! Do you know what you are talking of? Have you any clothes to give her? have you any house of your own? Learn how to get your own living, before you think of encumbering yourself with a wife. A poor shepherd as you are, you cannot have a penny beforehand. My daughter is not rich enough to keep herself, and I am sure you cannot keep her."

"If I am not rich," replied Dorcas, "I am vigorous and hearty, and those who are industrious never want for work. Out of the forty shillings I receive yearly for my wages, I have already saved five pounds, which will buy us goods in plenty. I will take a little farm, and I will work harder. The richest men in the village had no better beginning, and why may not I do as well as they have?"

The old man, however, told him he was young enough, and must wait for better circumstances. "Get rich," said the old farmer, "and Amarillis shall be yours; but speak no more to me concerning her, till your money shall induce me to listen to you."

It was in vain for Dorcas to argue any more; and as Amarillis was by this time on her return home, he went out to meet her. When they met, Dorcas was quite thoughtful, and the pretty shepherdess knew from thence he had not met with success. "I can see," said Amarillis, "that my father is averse to our marriage."--"What a misfortune it is," replied Dorcas, "to be born poor! Yet, I will not be cast down; for I may, by industry, perhaps change my situation. Had your father given his consent to our marriage, I would have laboured to procure you every thing comfortable. But I know we shall still be married, if we do but wait with patience, and trust till it shall please Providence to be more favourable to our wishes."

As the lovers were thus talking over the disappointment to their views, the night rapidly increased upon them; they therefore hastened their pace, that they might reach the cottage in good time. As they were pursuing their way home on the road, Dorcas stumbled over something, and fell down. As he felt about to discover what had occasioned his fall, he found a bag, which, on his lifting it, proved very heavy. Curiosity made them both anxious to know what it could be; but, on opening it, they were presently convinced, dark as it was, that it certainly was money.

"This is the gift of Heaven," said Dorcas, "who has made me rich to make you happy. What say you, my pretty Amarillis, will you now have me? How gracious has Heaven been to my wishes in sending me this wealth, such as is more than sufficient to satisfy your father, and make me happy!"

These ideas gave birth to inexpressible joy in their hearts; they anxiously surveyed the bag, they looked affectionately on each other, and then resumed the path that led to their village, eager to acquaint the old man with their unexpected good fortune.

They had nearly reached their habitation, when a thought struck Dorcas, and made him suddenly stop short. "We imagine," said he to Amarillis, "that this money will complete our happiness; but we should recollect that it is not ours. Some traveller has undoubtedly lost it. Our fair is but just over, and some dealer, coming from thence, may probably have dropped this bag; and while we are thus rejoicing over our good fortune on finding it, we may be assured that somebody is truly wretched on having lost it."

"My dear Dorcas," answered Amarillis, "your thoughts are very just. The poor man is undoubtedly much distressed by his loss. We have no right to this money, and were we to keep it, we should act a very dishonest part."

"We are going with it to your father's," said Dorcas, "and he would undoubtedly be glad to see us so rich; but what joy or happiness can we expect in possessing the property of another, whose family is perhaps ruined by the loss of it? As our minister is a worthy man, and has always been good to me, let us leave it with him. He is the properest person to consult on this occasion, as I am sure he will advise me for the best."

They accordingly went to the minister's, and found him at home. The honest Dorcas delivered the bag into his possession, and told him the whole tale; how happy they were at first on finding it, and what motives, from second thoughts, had induced them to bring it to him. He confessed his love for Amarillis, and acquainted him with the obstacles that poverty threw in the way of his felicity. "Yet," added Dorcas, "nothing shall tempt me to wander from the paths of honesty."

The minister was much pleased with their mutual affection for each other, and assured them, that Heaven would not fail to bless them, so long as they persevered in that line of conduct. "I will endeavour," said the minister, "to find out to whom this bag belongs, who will, no doubt, amply reward your honesty. Even out of the small matters I can save, I will add something to the present he shall make you, and I will then undertake to procure for you the consent of the father of Amarillis. Should the money not be claimed, it will be your property; and I shall then think myself bound to return it to you."

Dorcas and his lovely shepherdess returned to their homes much better satisfied than they would have been, had they otherwise made use of the treasure they had found, and they were happy in the promises the good minister had made them. The money was cried all round the country, and printed bills were distributed in towns and villages even at some distance. Many were base enough to put in their pretensions to it; but as they could neither describe the bag, nor what was in it, all they got by it was to establish their names as scandalous impostors.

In the mean time, the minister was not unmindful of the promise he had made the young lovers. A short time afterwards he put Dorcas into a little farm, provided him with money to purchase stock and farming implements, and at last procured him his beloved Amarillis.

The young couple having acquired every object of their humble wishes, sent up to Heaven their unfeigned thanks, and called down for blessings on the head of their good minister. Dorcas was industrious about the farm, and Amarillis kept every thing right in the house; they were punctual in the payment of their rent, and lived within the bounds of their income.

Two years had now passed, and no one had yet appeared to lay claim to the lost treasure. The minister, therefore, apprehended there was no necessity to wait any longer for a claimant, but took it to the virtuous couple, and gave it to them, saying, "My dear children, take what it has pleased Providence to throw in your way. This bag, which contains five hundred guineas, has not yet been claimed by its right owner, and therefore must at present be your property; but, should you ever discover the real person who lost it, you must then return it to him. At present, make such use of it as may turn it to advantage, and always be equal in value to the money, should it be justly demanded."

Dorcas entirely agreed with the minister, in laying out the money in such a manner that it might be ready on the shortest notice, or at least in something full the value in kind. As the landlord was proposing to sell the farm which Dorcas occupied, and as he valued it at little more than five hundred guineas, he thought he could not lay out the money to greater advantage than in the purchase of this farm; for, should a claimant ever appear, he would have no reason to complain of the disposal of his money, since it would be easy to find a purchaser for it, after it had received improvements from his labour.

The good pastor entirely agreed in opinion with Dorcas: the purchase was made, and, as the ground was now in his own hands, he turned it to much greater advantage. He was happy with his Amarillis, and two sweet children blessed their union. As he returned from his labour in the evening, his wife constantly welcomed his return, and met him on the way with her children, who fondled round him with inexpressible cheerfulness and delight.

The worthy minister, some years after this happy union, paid the debt of nature, and was sincerely wept for by both Dorcas and Amarillis.--The death of this worthy pastor brought them to reflect on the uncertainty of human life. "My dear partner," said Dorcas, "the time will come when we must be separated, and when the farm will fall to our children. You know it is not ours, nor perhaps ever properly will be. Should the owner appear, he will have nothing to show for it, and we shall go to the grave without having secured his property."

Dorcas, therefore, drew up a short history of the whole affair in writing, got the principal inhabitants to sign it, and then put it into the hands of the succeeding minister. Having thus taken all the precautions they could to secure the property to the right owner, should he ever appear, they were much more easy and contented than before.

Upwards of ten years had elapsed since they had been in possession of the farm; when Dorcas coming home from the fields one day to dinner, saw a phaeton in the road, which he had hardly cast his eyes on, till he saw it overset. He hastened to the spot to give them his assistance, and offered them the use of his team to convey their baggage. In the mean time, he begged them to step to his house, and take such refreshment as it afforded, though they had fortunately received no hurt.

"This place," said one of the gentlemen, "is always mischievous to me, and I suppose I must never expect to pass it without some accident.--About twelve years since, I somewhere hereabouts lost my bag, as I was returning from the fair, with five hundred guineas in it."

"Five hundred guineas, sir!" said Dorcas, who was all attention. "Did you make no enquiry after so great a loss?"--"I had it not in my power," replied the stranger, "as I was then going to the Indies, and was on my road to Portsmouth, which place I reached before I missed my bag. The ship was getting under way when I arrived there, and would have gone without me had I been an hour later. Considering it was money I had lost, it appeared to me a doubtful matter whether I should hear any thing of it after making the strictest enquiry; and had I been fortunate enough to succeed, even in that case, by losing my passage, I should have sustained a much greater loss than that of my bag and its contents."

After the part Dorcas has acted, this conversation was undoubtedly pleasing to him, and he consequently became more earnest in wishing the travellers to partake of the fare of his table. As there was no house nearer, they accepted the offer; he walked before to show them the way, and his wife came out to meet them, to see what accident had happened; but he desired her to return, and prepare dinner.

While the good woman was dressing the dinner, Dorcas presented his guests with some refreshments, and endeavoured to turn the conversation on the traveller's loss. Being convinced of the truth of his assertions, he ran to the minister, told him who he had with him, and begged he would come and dine with him. They all sat down to dinner, and the strangers could not help admiring the order, decency, and neatness that were every where conspicuous. They could not but notice the generosity and frankness of Dorcas, and were highly delighted with his helpmate, and the manner in which she treated her children.

As soon as dinner was over, Dorcas showed them his house, his garden, sheepfold, flocks, and granaries. "This house and premises," said he, addressing himself to the traveller who had formerly lost his money, "is your property. I was fortunate enough to find your bag and money, with which I purchased this farm, intending to restore it to the owner, should he ever come forward, and show himself. For fear I should die before an owner was found, I left a full detail in writing with the minister, not wishing my children to enjoy what was not their own."

It is impossible to express the surprise and astonishment of the stranger, who read the paper, and then returned it. He first gazed on Dorcas, then on Amarillis, and then on their young ones. At last, "Where am I?" cried he; "and what is it I have heard? Is this world capable of producing so much probity and virtue! and in what an humble station do I find it! Is this the whole of your property, my friend?"

"This house, my herd, and my cattle," replied Dorcas, "are all I possess. Even though you should keep the premises in your hand, still you will want a tenant, and I shall wish to be indulged with the preference."

The stranger replied, after a moment's pause, "Integrity like yours merits a more ample reward. It is upwards of twelve years since I first lost the money, and Providence threw it in your way. Providence has been no less kind to me, in blessing my undertakings. I had long since forgotten my loss, and even were I to add it to my fortune this day, it would not increase my happiness. Since it has pleased God that you should be the fortunate finder of it, far be it from me to wish to deprive you of it. Keep then what you have so well merited, and may heaven bless and prosper you with it."

He then tore the paper, on which Dorcas had made his acknowledgment of finding the purse, saying, "I will have a different writing drawn up, which shall contain my free gift of these premises, and shall serve to hand down to posterity the virtue and probity of this amiable pair." He fulfilled his word, by immediately sending for a lawyer, when he made over the premises to Dorcas and his heirs for ever.

Dorcas and Amarillis were then going to fall at the feet of their generous benefactor, but he would by no means permit it. "I am infinitely happy," said the generous stranger, "in having it in my power this day to confirm your felicity. May your children long after you inherit your farm, and imitate all your virtues!"

Remember, my youthful readers, that the pleasures and the comforts of human life are not in proportion to the extent of our possessions, but to the manner in which we enjoy them. The cottage of liberty, peace, and tranquility, is preferable to the gilded palaces of slavery, anxiety, and guilt.

_The Conversation._