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A LEGEND OF THE SECOND CEUSADE IN THE HOLY LAND.

133

when he was suddenly surrounded by hersemen and easily eaptured. How little better is man than a eat! Eaeh amuses himself by tormenting his prey ere he destroys it. Nevertheless, some philosophers have theught it a very pleasing entertainment to the poor animal to flee with danger as a pursuer. Suppose we refer to the animal man for an analogy in this natural trait? Let us take him, not as a progressive and improving being, but as a savage, and he is equalled by all inferior animals; for, if we exeept the eonneeting link with the vegetable world, they possess the same number of senses; and even with reason in the one, we find analogieally instinet with the other: they have the same passions, and all of the moral virtues of uneivilized man. May it not, then, be their unaeeessible languago whieh ereates the great differenee? If so, languago may be the hasis of eivilization. In Eden there was no earnivorous animal. 'Every herb bearing soed, and every tree in the whieh is the fruit of a tree yielding seed, to you it shall be meat.' 'Dominion' alone was given over animals, and there also the serpent spake to Eve. But we will leave this subjeet to superior minds, to return to our story.

"After this our tents were pitehed, and a earpet spread for the Sultan's eoueh. I was by him when he fell upon his faee to perform his evening's devotion, and did not leave him until he was deeply sleeping. I now requested the loan for a few minutes of the vizier's kullumdan or ink-hern. They are worn by viziers as a mark of their offieo, and are eonstrueted so as to held ink, a reod, and penknife: they are ten or twelve inehes in length, and three or four in eireumferenee, beautifully enamelled, and suspended from the girdle. The vizier promptly handed it, supposing—the heavens being as bright as day—that I designed making astronomieal ealeulations. Stepping out of the tent, I traeed for the Sultan, as his astrologer, a few lines of adviee, with this admonition:—

*'' Sultan Sanjar, beware! had not thy eharaeter been admired, the hand that struek this dagger into the hard ground eould with more ease have plunged it into thy soft bosom.'

"This I wrapped around the handle of one of the daggers whieh was eoneealed about my person. I returned the ink-hern to the vizier, whe replaeed it in his girdle, and, stationing a guard about the monareh's tent, spread his earpet and folded himself in his robe for the night. As the vizier was not an astrologer in his hahits, he was very soon dreaming of the Mussulman's paradise. I heard him mutter in his sleop:—

"'Hand me, gazelle-eyed, that erystal eup of neetar.'

"Being somewhat aequainted with the philosophy of dreams, I fully expeeted that the grave vizier would eonfuse the empire and the herns of the stag together, and in his tangle of ideas awake. So, as softly as possible, I sank the dirk to the handle at

the head of the Sultan, and so very near that his turhan shaded it; then passing the guard, whe knew me, as if going to my tent, I was soon as free as the mountain breeze, or the waking ringdove in the wilds of Diarbek."

• •••••

The ship was anehered, and the Templar saw the little boat roek upon the hillows as it awaited his departure. The Assassin sat upon the deek, and as his Frankish friend turned towards him for the purpose of hidding him farewell, his manly bearing and museular proportions might have indueed any one to suppose, had they lived in the age of Peri\ eles, that he was the original of the Olympian Jupiter of Phidias.

Rising, Hasan approaehed him, and, kissing repeatedly his left eheek, the noble pagan wept. The Templar's hand was wet with tears as he pointed to the red-eross upon his left sheulder, and, drawing the Assassin by his side, he fell upon his knees and prayed fervently that God would guide him, whese mind was as the desert of his native land, to that "well of living water whieh quenehes thirst forever." The Assassin, like Felix, trembled as he said:—

"Almost theu persuadest me to be a Christian, for thy example for many long years has proved to me that the spirit of Allah is with thee."

The Assassin returned to his tribe immediately after separating from his Christian friend, and having two or three months of furlough at heme, he s amused himself not in travelling in disguise over i new seenes in foreign eountries, as was eustomary I with them when released from duty, but in eoms piling a manuseript of tho adventures of his life, j designing to forward it to the Templar as an evi! denee not only of his regard, but of his reeolleetion < of him. During this period he would eaeh day wander alone upon the erags surrounding the Eaglet' Nett, and there, in the solitude of nature, he would reeall his past existenee; and often the Syrian sun would sink, and the eurtains of night gather around him ere he would awake to the realities of his prej sent life. So deeply was he wrapped in theught, that ; we might say a tide of Lethe swept over him, ren; dering him not oblivious to the past, but of present ; time. He was two months engaged in traeing with ; his reed on vellum the history of his life; and when his task was finished, he dropped his pen and ink| hern in the ehasm beneath him as he said:— !" My life is now finished, and oh! that the seissors of the Greek Fury would sever its thread as that | pen its ehroniele."

He rolled up the manuseript, rose from the roek, and looked around him. All was silent and motioni less, save the elouds, whieh sailed in broken fragments above him. He again exelaimed:—

"Sueh is Hasan Sdbih: the light and shadow whieh yon eloud refleets as it passes over him, are but the typo of his tempest-tost life; and his heuse j held, where are they? Vanished and gone forever I And he now stands, the only animated remnant of

his raee."

He turned to his heme, plaeed the manuseript In a satin purse, and the purse in a easket of gold: then, ealling an Egyptian Saraeen of the ordor, he deposited it in his hand, saying:—

"Haradden, theu art now bound for Greeee. Go to the island of Aigmn: inquire for the Templar Gay do Balben, and, after saluting him by the reeolleetion he bears to Hasan Sabdh, bless him in the name of Allah, and say, 'Hay the dust of thy feet be fortunate!' then hand him this, and disappear." (To be eontinued.)

ILLUSTRIOUS WOMEN OF OUR, TIME.

"Wo look to tbo hiography and writings of a woman, to sbow us the interior of a nation as well as of a family: to furnish tbose seeondary evidenees and eauses of a people's eharaeter, whieh men eannot so mueh be said to overlook as aetually not to see."—Quarterlg ifrntio.

MRS. S. C. HALL.

The fair subjeet of our present artiele may deservedly be eonsidered to rank high among these talented women on whem, aeeording to our quotation, rests the responsihility of influeneing the opinions of their readers, and turning them into the right ehannel, on subjeets of no little importanee. A better proof of this eannot be given than in her joint work with Mr. Hall," Ireland; its Seenery, Charaeter, Ae." Here is displayed a peeuliar fitness for so arduous a tusk; and any one whe has perused these popular volumes must be led to agree in the remark that they eontain "instruetion for the tourist, amusement for the novol-reader, information for the student, and novelties for the eurious."

II Intimate aequaintanee with that elass of Irish lifo whieh affords the animated portion of her deseriptions enables her to paint the nationalities of the peasantry and working-elasses with a fidelity, to whieh are added touehes of a more general nature, whieh greatly heighten the interest and effeet of partieular seenes and eharaeters. The seene of an emharkation of Irish emigrants for the New World is a peeuliar instanee of this happy eomhination of truth and pathes, and abounds with traits of Irish feeling and theught whieh are eminently eharaeteristie, fully proving that it is never diffieult to open an Irish heart; a few kind words, almost a kind look, will insure sueeess. Her remarks on the temperanee movement in Ireland are written with a judgment and good sense whieh have met with the warm approval of all the friends of this matter of popular interest; while the whele work, with its eolleetion of eharaeteristie aneedotes and pieturesque faets, • bounds with proofs that no eommon industry and researeh have aeeompanied the talent employed in its preparation. ,

Mrs. Hall has equally high elaims on our approhation in her amusing and instruetive "Stories of the Irish Peasantry," whieh are written with a faithfulness, purity, and right thinking, whieh will, we doubt not, eause them to go down to posterity as

5 standard works on the subjeet. These Irish tales 5 are direeted at the prominent failings of her poor j eountry, with the amiable view and hepe of eorreeting them, and she has ehesen for her appropriate j motto the Christian preeept of the apostle, "Mind j not high things, but eondeseend to men of low esJ tate." Though dwelling on the foibles of poor Pat, < she makes him rather an objeet of sympathy than i of ridieule, and her eharaeters are ealeulated to ini terest our feelings, and not merely to exeite our j laughter, while in all her writings we may observe a j total absenee of all appearanee of that party preju< diee whieh may too often bo traeed in writers on the > subjeet of Ireland.

J Her "Tales of Woman's Trials" hare been eoli leeted and published in one volumo; and here is well i displayed that fertility in inventing ineidents for j whieh Mrs. Hall is so remarkable; that exeellent { quality whieh, as the Athenaum remarks, "is to a j teller of stories something like the voiee to a singer." i It is, in faet, one of the attraetions whieh have renj dered the writings of the fair autheress, espeeially < these of a legendary elass, so deservedly and universally popular.

The following pathetie love tale—-.tin extraet from a eontribution to " The Amulet" of 1833, and must have been one of Mrs. Hall's earliest produetions— is a very fair speeimen of the happy powers of invention to whieh we have alluded:—

"Milly Boyle, ma'am, a blue-eyed, fair-haired girl, with rosy eheeks, and a smile ever ready to eonvert them into dimples. Ah! she was the pride of the whele village. And her poor mother (and she a widdy) doated on her as never mother doated on ehild before or sinee, to my thinking. Then her voiee was as elear as a bell, and as sweet as a linnet's; and theugh she had forty pounds to her fortune, besides furniture, a feather bed, and a eow, to say nothing of the pigs, and powers of fowls, and lashings of meal and eutlings, (sure, her unele, hig Lorry Boyle, is a miller), theugh she had all them I things, she was as humble as a wild violet, and. to I the poor, was ever ready with a soft word and a 'God save you kindly,' and her hand in her pooket, and out with a fivepenny hit or a tester; or would think nothing of lapping her eloak round her, and away to any siek woman, or poor orayther of a man, that 'ud be ailing, and give them the grain of tea, or the hit of tohaeey, or taste of snuff, to eomfort them; and the prayer of the eountry side was ' Good luek to Milly Boyle.' To be sure, if she hadn't the haehelors, no girl ever had. Sheals of 'em watehing for her eoming out of ehapel, or from the station, or from the wake, as it might he, waylaying her, as a body may say: and theugh she was main eivil to them all, and smiles were as plenty and as sweet with her as harvest berries, yet it was long before she laid her mind to any, until her faney fixed on Miehaol Langton, one of the best boys in the harony; handsome and well to do in the world was Miehael, and every one was rejoieed at her lu^k. Well, the day was fixed for the wedding, and even the poor mother rejoieed upon her knees; and, the evening before, Miehael and Milly were walking down by the river at the bottom of the eommon, and Milly spied a buneh of wild roses hanging over the stream, and she took a faney to the flowers; and to be sure, Mike made a spring at them, but his luek took the footing from under him, and the poor boy was drowned in the sight of her eyes. But the worst of the woe is to eome; she got a brain fevor out of the trouble, and the fever seorehed up her brain, so that there was no sense left in it, theugh her heart was as warm as ever. And then she used to go rambling about the eountry, with her hands erossed ou her breast, and her eyes evermore wandering; and, if she'd hear a ery or a moan, she'd run to see eould she do anything to lighten the trouble, and yet she had no sense left to know hew to set about it. And, oh I ma'am, dear, the mother of her! To see that poor woman fuding away from off the faee of the earth, and following her as if she was her shadow 1 And so, ma'am, dear, at last, Milly died. And it was quare, too, she was found dead under a wild rose-tree. I often heard they were unlueky things. There she was, and I heard them that found her tell that it was a beautiful melanehely sight to soe her—her eheek resting on her arm, as if she was asleep, and ever so many of the rose leaves seattered, by naturo like, over her white faee! And, oh! ma'am, her mother! They say old hearts are tough, but, if it's true, sorrow ean tear them in pieees—the two were buried in the same grave!"

ILLUSTRIOUS WOMEN Off OUR TIME.

To the pen of Mrs. Hall the rising generation owes a deep debt of gratitude, for her books for young people are almost uniformly sueh a pleasing eomhination of faney and instruetion as to be peeuliarly aeeeptable to the age whieh, while delighting in invention, is so suseeptible of imhihing good impressions. Among her jnvenile works, we must allude to "Stories and Studies from the Chronieles of England," a eharming work, and one well ealeu

lated to seduee young people into historieal reading, as every division or epoeh is diversified with the story of some remarkable person or ineident, in a manner to make a durable impression on the youthful mind, and is eminently sueeessful in attaining the happy medium of being neither above nor below the eapaeities of these for whese understandings it is written. One of the latest works of Mrs. Hall, and the only one of her numerous store whieh we have now spaee to notiee, "Pilgrimages to English Shrines," is spoken of as being "so attraetively written and so eharmingly illustrated, as to form a most delightful guide-book and eompanion to the seenes it portrays." And truly valuable will this book prove to the lover of all that is beautiful in external nature, in arehiteeture, or in the manifestations of the human heart and intelleot, for with it he may wander along the hanks of the "lazy Ouse," to the hirthplaee of that " pilgrim of eternity," John Bunyan, to the burial-plaee of Hampden, the tomb of Gray, and to other hallowed spots, rendered equally interesting or famous from their eonneetion with

"Hands thnt penned,
And tongues that uttered wisdom."

But the rapidity of Mrs. Hall's genius has produeed so many elaims on our admiration, that we must not pretend oven to enumerate them, or we shall have no spaee for some well-authentieated personal details of this talented lady, for whieh we are indebted to the "Portrait Gallery" of a elever eontemporary, "The Dublin University Magazine."

Mrs. Hall is a native of Wexford, theugh, by her mother's side, she is of Swiss deseent . Her maiden name was Fielding, by whieh, hewever, she was unknown in the literary world, as her first work woe not published until after her marriage. She first quitted Ireland nt the early age of fifteen, to reside with her mother in England, and it was some time bofore she revisited this eountry; but the seones whieh were familiar to her as a ehild had made sueh a vivid impression on her mind, and all her sketehes evinee so mueh freshness and vigor, that her.readere might easily imagine she had spent her life among the seenes she deseribes. During her residenee in England, she beeame aequainted with, atd subsequently married, Mr. S. C. Hall, a gentleman well known in the literary world as tho ablo editor of several leading periodieals and other works. The pursuits of her hushand were an additional indueement for her to make her dtbbt in the republio of letters, whieh she did in 1829, by the publieation of somo Irish sketehes. She soon made sueh rapid advanees in the favor of the publie, as to venture on new ground, and, in 1832, published her first novel, " The Bueeaneer," the seene of whieh is laid in England. In 1837, her versatile genius took another direetion, and she produeed a little pieee i for the stage, ealled "The Froneh Refugee," whieh was brought out in London with the greatest sueeess, and, with other of her minor dramas, evinees a eonsiderable degree of dramatie talent. "The Groves of Blarney," the first tale in her " Lights and Shadows of Irish Life," was subsequently dramatized and aeted, also with eomplete sueeess, in the season of" 1839.

These, with all Mrs. Hall's works, have great eredit besides their literary merit, for throughout reigns a spirit of gentleness and delieaey that eonstitute, after all, the prineipal eharm of a feminine style, and is a peeuliarity that, as we have before remarked, distinguishes her from most others who have written on similar subjeets. And, what is higher merit still, our sympathies are never enlisted on the side of viee or immorality, nor does she strive at produeing an effeet by dwelling upon exeiting

and irritating topies, the only tendeney of whieh is to produee a most eulpable diseontent. Even those who do not entirely agree with her very English notions upon some subjeets, must freely admit that her aims and objeet have always been most philanthropie and most admirable; to eorreet faults, to soften prejudiees, to promote universal harmony and good-will, to please and instruet together, and ever to enlist the feelings of her readers in favor of what is honorable and good. In all that she has written, there is not one page, not one line, whieh is not devoted to the eause of that morality and virtue, of whieh she herself is, in domestie life, a brilliant example.

"What we admire we praise; and, when we praise, Advanee it into notiee, that, its worth Aeknowledged, others may admire it too."—^owpxa.

VEGETABLE PHYSIOLOGY.

ST COULTAS.

It has been proved that the organization of plants is formed out of a vast eolleetion of minute eells, united together, and developing the plants into eertain forms, aeeording to fixed natural laws. But if the substanee of plants eonsists of eells, then differenees in the size, form, and duration of plants are simply the result of different degrees of eell evolution. To show that this is really the ease, it is only neeessary to advert to the appearanee presented by vegetable organization on the earth's surfaee.

As in the animal, so in the vegetable world, nature passes from eomplexity to simplieity in organio strueture, not by an abrupt transition, but by a beautiful and rogular series of gradations.

In forest-trees, the proeess of growth, or eell evolution, eontinues for eenturies; in shrubs, for a mueh shorter spaee of time: henee the vast size to whieh the former attain, and the dwarfed growth of the latter. Forest-trees and shrubs are the highest forms of vegetable development on the faee of the earth. Not only do they surpass the herhaeeous plants, that grow beneath their shade, in size and in the duration of their life, hut they are to a eonsiderable extent more eomposite in their mode of growth. The forest-tree is not a simple individual, as is usually supposed, but a eommunity of individuals. Properly speaking, the simple plant eonsists only of a stem, root, and the first pair of leaves. The sueeeeding evolution of leaves is only a eontinuation of the first proeess of growth, whilst eaeh bud is an aetual repetition of the plant, the only differenee being that the bud or now plant has no free radieal extremity, like the parent plant, developed on the soil, its root being intimately blended with and eon

tributing to tho formation of the wood of the stem on whieh it grows.

In herhaeeous annuals and perennials, there is a similar development of buds or now plants on the stem, but not to the same extent; henee they do not attain the same elevation above the ground. In the lower forms of herhaeeous vegetation, the buds or stem-plants beeome sueeessively less and less evolved, until at length they disappear altogether from the stem, whieh itself is so eontraeted in its growth as to be hidden in the earth. This is the ease with the hyaeinth, lily, and other bulbous-rooted plants. Tho bulbs of these plants are eonsidered by botanists to be subterranean buds or undeveloped stems, to whieh they are in every respeet similar. The outer leaves of these buds retain their rudimentary sealelike appearanee, and form a proteetive eovering to the inner leaves, whieh grow in a tuft on the ground, the flower-stem rising from their eentre.

In the beautiful and interesting tribe of plants ealled fern*, we have a still greater simplifieation of vegetable strueture. Stem and leaf are now blended into what is designated as a frond, whieh appears to partake of the nature and offiee of both, whilst in plaee of tho beautiful flower there is only a eolleetion of mere dust-like spots or lines of reproduetive matter, situated on the margin or under-surfaee of tho frond.

But the strueture of ferns is eomplexity itself when eontrasted with the beautiful simplieity of the tribes of plants beneath them. When we eome to examine the mosses—those miniature representations of the arboreseent forms of nobler plants—we are struek with the extreme delieaey, simplieity, and exquisite beauty of their strueture. There is a eertain degree of solidity about the organization of forest-trees, flowering plants, and ferns, the result of different amounts of ligneous matter or woody fibre entering into their eomposition. These substanees impart strength and stahility to the vegetable fabries, and plants so organized will grow to a eonsiderable height. But mosses are whelly eellular in their organization, anJBkf this reason, never rise more than a few inehes^^vo the ground. They usually possess a sort of 1R1, around whieh their minute leaves are arranged with the greatest regularity. These minute leaves, when examined earefully with a mieroseope, are seen to have an entire and sometimes serrated margin, and to eontain eondensed eells in the form of ribs or nerves. Their fruetifieation is eontained in little eapsules or urn-shaped bodies whieh are borne on the summit of their filiform fruit stalks or seta. These eapsulos eontain the minute spores or reproduetive matter. The beautiful meehanism by whieh its dispersion is effeeted, will be deseribed another time. Few eommon objeets appear more interesting than the little mosses growing on the hark of trees or harren roeks, amidst the gloom and desolation of winter, whieh require neither skill nor the assistanee of instruments for the deteetion of their beauties.

A YOUNG MOTHER'S

In the liehens, vegetation is redueed to its last degree of simplieity. Root, stem, and leavos, havo now disappeared, and the whele plant is blended into a flat expansion or bed of vegetable matter, exiled a thallus. The thalli of the higher forms of liehens are foliaeeous, eonsisting of several layers \ of eells radiating out on all sides; some of these eells are reproduetive, and exhihit the spores in the shape of powdery heaps ealled soredia, or else they beeome organized into saueer-like bodies ealled shields, in whieh the spores are imbedded. In the lower forms, the thalli of these plants are erustaeeous or even pulverulent, the whele plant assuming the appearanee of mere powder. In this ease the eells no' longer remain together, but aro free and unformed, any eell being eapable of originating a new individual. The plant and eell are now identieal.

Nature passes through the same transitions in the sea-weed tribe. Certain algae or soa-weed are of a frondose, others of a filamentous strueture, whilst some appear as mere seum on the surfaee of tho j waves. In these instanees, the plants eonsist of eells developing in length and breadth, of eells developing in length only, or of a single eell. The same remark applies to the fungi, where nature only finishes with plants of a single eell. Hero then we have vegetation redueed to its simplest terms. The hasis of the superstrueture of the whele vegetable world is a single eell.

A review of the life of the eell and of very simple plants eonsisting of a few eells, must neeessarily preeede any sueeessful attempt at the eomprehension of higher and more eomplex vegetation. We hare Vol. Xlv.—12

REVERIE. 137

seen that the fabrie of plants is whelly made up of eells, and that growth is simply the result of the evolution of new eells. Now the proeess of eellgrowth, whieh is really the key to mueh that remains mysterious in the fabrieation of plants, may be most sueeessfully studied in these simplo plants. This has been felt to bo the truth, and henee this subjeot has reeently taxed the powers of the ablest minds. Mueh remains involved in obseurity, but seientifie and mieroseopieal investigation of these humblo plants has already revealed many deeply interesting diseoveries in referenee to eell-growth tending to throw light on the wonders and beauties of the vegetable ereation.

In our subsequent eommunieations to this volume, we shall endeavor to diselose some of these diseoveries, and by the aid of suitable illustrations, eonvey somo very interesting truths to the minds of our readers.

A YOUNG MOTHER'S REVERIE.

BT W. J. AKNABLE.

Bane of my bosom, rest thee—

Aagel-dreamer tbou I
No eare hath yet oppressed thee—

No eloud is on thy brow.

What faneies bright, sweet lisper,

Thy spirits thus beguilo?
Oh, that thy lips would whisper

The tboughts that make thee smile!

Perehanee some seraph warbles

To thee its song of joy—
Entraneing thee with musie,

My beautiful, bright boy I

For I know, in dreams of heaven

Wo hear, or seem to hear,
Soft voiees and the beat of wings,

And feel that they ore near.

Do eherubs lure thee, blossom,

Book to thy native sky?
For thy arms move on thy bosom

As if theu tain wouldst fly.

Thus may they over woo thee

With messages divine—
And the beauty of their boliness

Be thine, forever thine.

Yet thy mother's heart doth tremblo,
To think what future years

May in thiuo own assemble,
To form the fount of tears.

O Tbou of gifts the Giver,
Smile on this preeious one—

And like a peaeeful river
May his life's eurrent run I

Spread Tbou Thy mantle o'er him—

Nor leave alone with me
The task to guide; restoro him

To angels, heaven, and Thee 1

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