tions fell like ice upon the warm bosom of the prince.

"Thou hast well done, Jasser. Bring it to me."

Does the earth rock, or is it fancy? No! to the senses of the unhappy Giafar, the fabric of all human things is tottering from its base. At the rude voice of his master, hope flies away, and death, with all its bitterness, enters his soul. He lays aside his turban, he gathers his garments about him, he kneels, and bares his neck for the executioner. Confused sounds, as of many waters, fill his ears; light flashes across his eyes; he can see nothing he can hear noth- Listen! 'tis his name! Again! 'Tis Azrael!-'tis the angel of death, and thrice he calls on Giafar. His hour is come!

At this moment the dervis, who had just gained the palace, came hastily forward, exclaiming, "Forbear! Stay thine hand! There is yet pardon there is yet life for him.”

יין

"Away !" replied the sanguinary Jasser. "Hinder me not in mine office."

The old man rushed into the calif's presence; but the cimeter descended quickly. Impelled by envy, hatred, and ambition, it fell, severing with its merciless edge the neck of the unfortunate and accomplished prince. "Tis over, and Abassa is alone. Her name, and his God's, were the last words upon his lips. May he dwell with them for ever. May his feet stand firm upon that perilous

bridge, which stretches its narrow and dangerous

passage over the abyss of darkness. Let no storm sweeping wildly across that vast country whither he has gone, hurry him from the path which leads to paradise, but, angel led, may he find that blessed abode, regain his deserted one, and be at peace! And shall he not? If he has prayed, or given alms, or performed any good work, has not the angel that stands ever at his right hand, written it down ten times? If he has sinned, by the kind providence of Allah for seven hours must the evil spirit wait, ere he can record it; for peradventure he may pray, or ask pardon.

CHAPTER XVI.

And back upon thyself revolves

The pains, the sufferings, all the deadly tortures
Which thou hast brought on others.

Tragedy of Orre.

WHEN the Commander of the Faithful had retired to his palace, after his encounter with the hermit Ibrahim, he bitterly repented the precipitation with which he had urged the execution of his once-loved favourite. Here had occurred an opportunity for compromising with his anger and pride, nay, even a necessity to pardon, in redemption of plighted promise. But it came all too late. The minister of death had departed, the sentence was in his hand, and probably had by that time been executed.

Regret was unavailing, and its manifestation unworthy the dignity of his character. After his mind had recovered from that state of prostration and stupor, into which, from various causes, it had been thrown, nothing in the deportment of the calif displayed the remorse which was rending his bosom. His countenance was unmoved, and his voice firm. 'Tis true, at the entrance of the messenger of justice, when he first inquired after the fate of the prince, anxiety predominated slightly

over his self-possession, showed itself in his face, and agitated his voice with that tremour, which lighted up a fleeting and vain hope in the then living bosom of Giafar. This emotion, however, passed in an instant, when Jasser announced to him that the deed was done-that the fate of his victim was sealed. He appeared well satisfied that his commands had been obeyed, and awaited, with an inward shuddering, the officer's return with the head. At that instant, a voice and the hasty step of feet were heard without, and the dervis rushed in wild haste into the apartment, exclaiming,

"He is alive!-he is without! Speak but a word, and save him!"

The calif rose in trembling agitation, and would have spoken aloud, but ere the words of mercy had passed his lips, a sound was heard, which in an instant sealed them. It was the dull sweep of the steel as it passed across the neck of the victim, telling harshly of his fate. Then the aged Ibrahim, overcome with horror, rending his robe, bowed down upon his face and wept aloud. Then the calif knew that all was over-that his friend had suffered even at his doors, almost in his presence, when a word, nay, the very sound of his voice, would have sufficed to save him. The trial was too terrific. He grasped his beard with an unconscious hand, plucking up its sable hairs by the roots, and sank back in horror upon the divan from whence he had arisen. The scream of anguish from which he with difficulty refrained, was sup

pressed into a stifled groan; and wafted across the apartment, seemed like the echo of the murdered Giafar's death sigh. But, in truth, no such sound of terror came from the prince's lips, even when the steel was doing its work upon him; and ten fold more than his sufferings, was that which it inflicted upon the heart of the listening, living calif.

The exertion of all his self-command was insufficient to enable Haroun to endure with dignity and calmness the presence of Jasser, when he returned bearing in his right hand the prince's head, yet warm and dripping with blood. He turned his eyes from the horrid spectacle, and said in a whisper, every syllable of which was distinctly audible, "How is this?-the head yet wet!-when was this done?"

"But now, my lord, without the door of the apartment," was the answer.

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Why thus in my very presence?" asked the calif.

"It was at the request of the prince himself, my lord," said the officer, "that it was thus delayed." Why?-for what purpose?"

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"He hoped that my lord the calif would relent from his anger, and regret his death, when he heard that the sentence against him had been executed."

"Fool! fool he should have known his master better. Let it suffice;" and with his face buried in his hands, the calif remained silent. After