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the day shall come, even in our time, when the
unfettered Reason shall walk abroad in its na-
tive majesty, and the light of Truth shall irra-
diate the earth, concentrate its beams on the
walls of Superstition, and consume the struc-
ture which no light was sufficient to illume."

" My reading," answered Mourad, " is too
limited, hawadgi, to furnish me with arguments
on a subject which presents difficulties even to
the enlightened. But there is one book I am
conversant with, which to my bosom carries the
evidence of truth, and the conviction of it con-
stitutes my sole happiness here, and is the
foundation of my hopes hereafter. If I have


reason on my side, it can serve you nothing to
undermine my happiness; and, if my behef be a
delusion, no cruelty can be more refined than to
shake me in my faith, and awaken me from a
dream of pleasure for the vain purpose of turn-
ing its images to ashes on my heart. The books
whose philosophy you applaud, I know nothing
about ; but were I to read them, which God
forbid I should ! it would be with the strong
impression on my mind that truth is to be
found in one book only, while error pervades a
thousand volumes.

" Falsehood, hawadgi, is flippant in its na-
ture ; like a foolish bird, it hops from tree to
tree, and when it fancies it has perched on the
blessed Tuba of truth, it finds itself tottering on
the boughs of Instability, swinging with every
wind from side to side, and chirping the note
of assertion which it mistakes for fact.

" But unskilled as I am in the learning of
books, I am not altogether inexperienced in the
knowledge of life ; and consulting that expe-
rience, if I ask myself in what community I
have found the largest proportion of worth and
honesty, I must say it was not in that of the


unbelieving Sufis. But on higher grounds than
the quahties of human beings the child of Islam
rests his hopes, and from higher sources than
the learning of your philosophers he derives
the principles which regulate his conduct in the
world. The sentiments of his morality, Ef-
fendi, are his shield and his support ; when that
human honour you have spoken of proves but
a poor protection against the temptations of
vice, and but a broken reed in the day of
danger and adversity."

" All this sounds very well," replied the
Consul, " but turn your eyes to the four cor-
ners of El Masr, and every where the aching
sight has to encounter the withering aspect of
superstition, the blood-shot eye-ball of fana-
ticism, and the miserable consequences of priest-

" I have heard even the Sufis say," replied
Mourad, " that it was unfair to involve the prin-
ciples of things in their abuses. Is the glorious
law of Islam to be condemned for a ritual
error ? Is religion to be struck at through the
sides of superstition ? Are the abuses that may
have crept into a creed to be made the weapons


of an attack against the law itself? Staffer Al-
lah, havvadgi ! this would be to say a man's house
should be pulled down, and his head deprived
of the shelter of a roof, because the swallows
had bespattered the windows which let in the

The Consul was either too polite to prosecute
the controversy, or his arguments were too weak
even for an ilhterate Turk. But he had too
good an opinion of his opponent's reason to have
recourse to ridicule, and it only remained to
adopt the dernier resource of defeated argu-
ment ; he shifted the discourse.

Mourad was encouraged by what he deemed
the success of his first encounter with the Con-
sul, to prosecute the discussion whenever an
opportunity offered. In the course of their
arguments difficulties were sometimes started
which he was unable to explain. A doubt or
two of the truth of opinions he before held
sacred crept into his mind ; the misgivings of
the truth became the conviction of error, and,
once unsettled in his belief, a single flaw in the
vessel of his faith let in the entire torrent of
infidelity on his soul.



Ch. Just. Well, the truth is, Sir John, you live in
great infamy.

Fal. He that buckles him in my belt cannot live in
less. Henry JV.

MouRAD continued to enjoy the favour of
the Viceroy, till an unfortunate circumstance
arose, which interrupted the good understand-
ing that had hitherto prevailed between them.
Our hero had accompanied Ibrahim Pacha to
the Delta, on a tour which he was then making
through the provinces. In one of the towns,
the Pacha had a conference with a Levantine
Christian, the Malim Galli, who filled the office
of Controller of Finance, and had been in high
favour with Mohamed Ali since the period of
his succeeding Gogary, the former controller,


whom the Pacha had disgraced, and caused to
refund five thousand purses to the State.

Ibrahim Pacha had a secret enmity to the
Mahm ; he suspected him of assisting his bro-
ther Toussoun in supplanting him in the favour
of his father, and that suspicion was a sufficient
motive for getting rid of his interference.

Mourad was with the Pacha when the MaHm
entered the apartment of the divan, to pay his
homage to the son of his master. The moment
jMourad set eyes upon him, he recognised the
brother of the Armenian's widow, who had
assisted in chasing him from his sister's house.
He was aware that murder was busy with Ibra-
him's thoughts ; he knew what was passing in
the despot's bosom, and while he smiled and
salaamed the poor MaHm, he marked the scowl-
ing expression of his eye, and the perfidious
sunshine on the features, which seemed to
brighten up with pleasure at seeing an old

In spite of Mourad's altered appearance, the
Malim stared at him for some time, as if his
face was familiar to him, and at length he asked

256 Tllli MUSSULMAN.

him if he had not the pleasure of addressing an
Effendi who had been acquainted with an Ar-
menian family in Scanderia.

Mourad replied impatiently, that he had no
acquaintances amongst Christians.

The Malim begged the Effendi's pardon ; he
meant to give him no offence, and he was sorry
for having mistaken him for an adventurer who
had crawled into the favour of the Prince, and
who only needed to be exposed to be sent out
of the country.

The conversation was beginning to take a
disagreeable turn, when Ibrahim relieved the
embarrassment of the Byn-bashi, by dismissing
the Malim, with the command to return in an
hour, when he should be more at leisure to talk
with him.

The Malim made his obeisance and retired,
and the moment he left the chamber, Mourad
entered into a topic, which he knew was then
uppermost in Ibrahim's mind.

" Wallah, Effendi !" cried he, " these Chris-
tians will soon ride over the true believers, if
your illustrious father continues to aggrandize
the kafirs as he does. If an office is to be filled


up, a Christian is sure to be put into it ; if a
cargo of beans is to be sold, a Frangi is sure to
be the purchaser ; if a machine is spoken of in
El Masr, that is used in England, it is sure to
be brought to Scanderia. Allah knows where
it will end ! Your worthy father thinks of no-
thing but Franguestan and the abominations of
its people.""

" I know," replied Ibrahim, " I hate the
infidels no less than you ; I hold their customs
in no less detestation ; and were I the Viceroy
of El Masr, I would send every giaour of them
out of Egypt. My father knows it, and he has
made a war, for no other purpose than to keep
me out of the country. I have my own suspi-
cions of the dog of an unbeliever, who put it
into his head to remove me from his presence,
and it will go hard with me if I do not trample
on the neck of the kelp for his presumption."

" I have my suspicions, too, Effendi," ex-
claimed Mourad ; " and I am no true believer,
if that rayah, who but now left your presence,
is not the man who has stepped between you
and the favour of your father. That Malim,
Effendi, is he who has induced the Viceroy to


send you from El Masr ; who has represented
you as a son who only wanted a pretext for
becoming a rebel. He is your mortal enemy,
EfFendi — a dog without faith, a kafir without a
belief, and if he be suffered to live, Allah de-
fend you from the wrath of the Viceroy !"

" Fear not for me," replied the Pacha, " I
only wish that his neck was that of Christen-
dom, that one blow might exterminate the un-

The entrance of the chibouque bashi put an
end to the conversation, and in a short time
afterwards Malim Galli made his appearance.

He was received as before, with smiles and
courteous greetings ; and after the Pacha had
conversed with him familiarly for a considerable
time, he rose to depart, and his back was no
sooner turned, than Ibrahim pulled out his
pistol, and shot the unfortunate Malim through
the body.

The report of the pistol brought the servants
to the apartment ; the Pacha was sitting on his
divan, with the pistol in his hand, as compo-
sedly as if nothing extraordinary had occurred ;
while Mourad was standing over the corpse,


with his sword unsheathed, but its service was
not required. It was not Ibraliim's first aim
at a human target; the ball had passed through
the Malim's heart. He had been looked up to
as the chief man of his nation ; and the sensation
excited by his death was so great, that Ibrahim
thought proper to return to El Masr the fol-
lowing morning.

It was several weeks before he dared to pre-
sent himself before his father. At the first in-
telligence of the murder, the rage of the Vice-
roy knew no bounds. The deceased Malim
had been one of his greatest favourites, and
many supposed that the life of Ibrahim would
have been sacrificed to the clamours of the dead
man's relatives ; but Ibrahim's friends even-
tually succeeded in pacifying his father ; the
murderer was forgiven ; but his accomplice, for
such Mourad was accounted, had too many ene-
mies about the Viceroy to allow of his being
ever again taken into favour; he was ordered,
on pain of death, to quit El Masr within three
days. His services, the day of the massacre of
the Mamelukes, had not been entirely forgotten ;
to the partial recollection of them he was in-


debtee! for the preservation of his Hfe and pro-

Mourad was not unprepared for the sentence ;
it was the very mildest he had a right to ex-
pect, and he hardly regretted being compelled
to leave a country, which he was already sick
of, and whose scenes recalled none but painful
recollections to his mind. He employed the
brief time allowed him in disposing of his ef-
fects: he was rich in worldly goods, the pro-
perty of the Delhi, the spoils of the Mame-
lukes : his pay as Byn bashi furnished him with
wealth, but in the treasure of a contented mind,
he was the poorest of the sons of men. The
first ship he found ready for sea at Scanderia
was an Austrian vessel, bound for Constanti-
nople. The world was now all before him, and
it was a matter of indifference to which part
of it he bent his steps. He once thought of
visiting the countries of Franguestan ; but the
horror of sojourning for any length of time
with so " unclean and benighted a people"" was
too great to be overcome. Shaken as he was in
the truth of his religion, the believers in another
were still hateful to his soul ; he laughed at the


beard of his Apostle, and yet he was ready to
shed the last drop of his heart's blood in the
cause of Islam. This is a paradox, which we
leave to metaphysicians to explain ; we only
know that he ceased to consider the Koran a
sacred volume, and that he felt an involuntary
inclination to cut the throat of any infidel who
uttered a syllable against the law of Islam.
Perhaps the mortal enmity he entertained was
against names, and not things. God best knows !
He embarked aboard the Austrian vessel ; there
were only tvvo other passengers, one was a fe-
male, the other was the Dervish Ali.

Mourad's astonishment at beholding the lat-
ter was only surpassed by the terror of the
Dervish at beholding him. A feeling of resent-
ment gave an angry expression to his fea-
tures, as he gazed on the wretch who had in-
truded into his harem ; but when his ridiculous
appearance presented itself to his view, at the
moment he received the shock of the water-melon
on his jaw, with the pulp of its broken frag-
ments spattered over his visage, he could not
help smiling at the absurdity of the scene. The
poor Dervish was now pulling his conical bon-


net over his brows, drawing his " torn garment""
about his jaws, and endeavouring, as much as
possible, to conceal his features from our hero,
while he kept conversing with the young wo-
man who had accompanied him on board, and
under whose special protection she appeared to
have been placed.

Mourad at length approached him. " So,
Dervish," said he, " this is the way you treat
your old friends ; pull your cap over your eyes,
and your kirkah about your person, and refuse
to say as much as Salaam aleikouni, to one who
is under so great an obligation to you as I am.
Wallah-el-Nebi ! this is most unkind ; I should
not have expected so little regard from one
who has showed so much for my wife." The
latter word was spoken in a low voice ; but the
Dervish heard it distinctly.

" Effendi," said the votary of Beltha, " if
you have any consideration for the morals of a
young woman, who has been committed to my
charge, make no profane allusions in her hear-
ing. I protest by my order — (it is a sacred
oath, Effendi) — I visited your wife solely in


my medical capacity ; and the planet, whose
worshij> you probably imagine me devoted to,
has nothing whatever to do with the healing art."

" I am bound,"" said Mourad, " to believe
whatever a man of your sanctity asserts, and
am willing to forget the past, and, if I find you
deserving of forgiveness, to grant it to you.
We are bound on the same voyage, shut up in
the same ship ; we are both Moslems, and are
encompassed by unbelievers, and it behoves us
to agree as well as we can while we are together.
Allah forbid I should offend the morals of a
young woman committed to the charge of so
reverend a Dervish ! fear not, my friend, I will
not say a word about my wife in her presence,
not a sound about the melon, not a syllable
about your jaw. Min Allah ! I have promised
to forget these things ; but I pray thee enlighten
my mind u little on the subject of the damsel
who accompanies you. What worthy man's
wife or daughter is she .'' and how, in the name
of the planet Beltha, came she to be entrusted
to your care .?"

" The sun is in the zenith," cried the pupil


of Abou Rassed, " and the hour is a propitious
one for telling a secret to a friend. Know, then,
the damsel who accompanies me is the daughter
of a barber in El Masr, and is proceeding to
Stamboul to be married to a shaver of heads,
who had been formerly an assistant of her fa-
ther's, and is now a barber on his own account
in the capital.

" I became acquainted with the father in his
own shop ; I frequented it for years ; he was
intimate with every hair in my beard, and I
was familiar with every star in his horoscope.
He had been awaiting an opportunity to send
his daughter to her intended spouse for many
weeks, and when he heard of my approaching
departure, he naturally thought he could not
pitch upon a fitter person to take care of the
young maiden than myself. He begged of me
with so much earnestness to see her taken care
of on the voyage, and delivered over in safety
to her husband, that I could not find it in my
heart to refuse the old man, and here she is
under my superintendence, and I assure you I
have no little trouble in keeping these kafirs of
sailors from peeping under her veil ; and as


for her attendant, I have given up all hope of
keeping her face unseen by the infidels. You
would scarcely believe it, EfFendi, but I actu-
ally found her giggling this morning with one
of these wretches without skirts to their gar-
ments. I bade her look to her amsak, but she
laughed in my face, and told me to take care
of my own kirkah. Alas ! Effendi, there is no
morality in the world."

" How long is it, my good friend," said Mou-
rad, '* since your spirit has become afflicted at
the immorality of woman kind ? Is it since you
left Scanderia, or was it previous to your ac-
quaintance with my wife ?""

"Effendi!"" replied the Dervish, "a profane
jest is hateful to my ears, a broken promise is
not less displeasing to my soul ; you just now
told me you would bury your wife in oblivion,
and here now do I find you raking up her bones
and throwing her ashes on my head. For the
sake of the Prophet, no more of her remains.

" If the star of my youth had an affinity for
the planet Beltha, and was one of her satellites,
the sun has made many revolutions since that
period, and time, the fatlier of knowledge, has

VOL. Jli. N


taufrht me that immorality is the root of all

Mourad felt for his purse, and when he found
it was safe, he left the Dervish and went below.
The following night Mourad was awoke by a
tumultuous noise on deck ; the loud voice of
the Dervish prevailed over all the others ; on
hastening to the spot he found the unfortunate
Dervish without his kirkah, in the midst of a
crowd of boisterous sailors, who were tormenting
and jeering him with a thousand threats and
taunts. It was long before Mourad could ascer-
tain the cause of the disturbance ; at length he
ascertained that the Dervish had been discovered
making a most unseasonable visit to the berth
of the servant who waited on the lady. Some
were for keel-hawling the offender, others for
tarring his bald head, but the general voice
seemed to be for shaving him with a rusty
hoop, an operation which was actually com-
menced when Mourad went to his assistance.

The Captain had the humanity to second our
hero in rescuing the terrified Dervish from the
hands of his persecutors, and when Mourad
succeeded in getting him out of their clutches,


as he led him to the cabin, it was impossible to
behold a more perfect personification of a con-
demned culprit. That night Mourad had the
charity to ask him no questions ; but the follow-
ing morning, when he spoke to him on the sub-
ject, he put on the bold look of impudence
which he was accustomed to pass off for that
of innocence, and talked of bringing the knaves
to justice who had dragged him out of his bed
for no earthly reason.

" I was grieved," said Mourad, " to see them
treat a Dervish with such indignity, but I must
say it appeared rather strange that there should
have been so unprovoked an attack made on
you. Might you not have been walking in
your sleep ? have you never heard of people
doing so ?''"'

*' Undoubtedly," replied the Dervish ; " I
have heard of sleep-walkers, and now I begin
to think it may have happened that I was
rambling in my slumbers. I have a sort of
confused recollection of a dream, in which I was
perambulating the cabin, and in trying to make
my way on deck, had stumbled against the door
of the state-room where the women's berths are.''

N 2


" Ah, Dervish Ali, Dervish All !" exclaimed
Mourad, " the star of your nativity has a
greater aflinity than ever for the planet of pro-
fligacy ; your horoscope is composed of a thou-
sand comets, and each is governed by the Acad-
tein, or two-tailed dragon, whose constellation is
the terror of all the daughters of Howa."

The Dervish was about to defend himself from
the charge of profligacy on astrological grounds,
but Mourad had not the courtesy to stay to
listen to his defence. The Dervish saw with
regret there was likely to be no opportunity to
exculpate himself in the eyes of our hero : the
voyage was already drawing to a close ; five
days of favourable weather had brought them
in sight of Stamboul, and on the morning of the
sixth day they were at anchor in the harbour.

There was a time when the beauty of such a
prospect as now met his eyes would have filled
his bosom with delight ; there was a time when
the magnificence of such a city, the smoothness
of such a sea, the serenity of such a sky, and
the loveliness of such a shore, would have
brought the olow of admiration to his cheek,
the tear of rapture to his eye, and sent the


thrill of pleasure through his heart. But inno-
cent pleasures had long since ceased to gratify
the vitiated taste of Mourad ; crime had put
" rancours into the vessel of his peace ;" sorrow
had become his guest, and when there was no-
thing left to feed on, apathy had taken possession
of his breast.



Let not your ears despise my tongue for ever.
Which shall possess them with the heaviest sound
That ever yet they heard.


MoURAD took up his abode at a khan, at no
great distance from the place where he landed,
after parting with the Dervish, who promised
to call on him in a few days. He found him-
self set down in a large city, in the midst of
strangers, without a friend or relative, without
any occupation but his own melancholy thoughts,
without a reflection unmingled with regret or

As he sauntered through the bazaars, the
bustling passengers elbowed him as they hur-
ried by, and the busy merchants jostled him on
one side and another, as they proceeded on their


various avocations. It seemed to him as if he
was the only man in existence without an occu-
pation ; he envied the lot of the lowest mecha-
nic he beheld who earned his bread by his ho-
nest industry, and he determined on seeking
some employment which might relieve him from
the misery of his own thoughts.

He turned over and over in his mind the ad-
vantages and disadvantages of a variety of avo-
cations, but he found it difficult to come to a
determination ; he had nobody to advise with,
nobody to counsel him ; he had no friend in the
wide world, and he oftentimes wondered why it
pleased Heaven to leave one so unconnected
with all around him on the surface of the earth.

He was wandering one day in this melan-
choly mood through the suburbs of the Greek
quarter, when he observed a rayah standing at
a door, whose face was familiar to him. He
stood for some time staring at the man, en-
deavouring to call to mind where he had seen
him ; he thought it was a face he had known in
boyhood ; he walked up and down before the
house, fixing his keen eye on the old man every
time he passed him, till at length the recollec-


tion Haslied all at once on liis mind, that the
individual before him was no other than the
Greek rayah of Bournarbashi, who had made
him acquainted with the history of his father
many a long year before.

The Greek appeared to be disconcerted at the
sight of the stranger who approached ; he was
about retiring into his house, when Mourad
addressed him by name, and requested him to
give him a few minutes' conversation.

" Do you not know me, my good friend ?'"
said he. " Have time and affliction laid their
hands so heavily on my head, that you cannot
recognise the features of your townsman ? Have
you no recollection of that little Mourad who
used to visit your dwelling, and who was the
playmate of your children ? Have you entirely
forgotten the boy who was called the son of
Suleiman of Bournarbashi .?"

" No, EfFendi," replied the Greek. ** I have
not forgotten the sweet child, who saved my
poor boy from Yussuf's hanjar. I have a full
recollection of the features of Michelaki's son ;
I remember the lovely infant I so often saw in
the arms of the unfortunate Emineh ; but you


cannot persuade me, Effendi, that you are the son
of my ill-fated countryman ! No, no, Effendi,
the boy I speak of was beautiful as an angel ; his
little features were all softness and innocence,
and the smile on his pretty lips was so full of
gentleness and benignity, that every one loved
him, and augured well of his manhood. Do
not be angry with me, Effendi, because I can-
not give credit to your words ; but, indeed, the
child I speak of was so unlike you, that I can-
not imagine a century of calamity could effect
so great a change.'"

" The last year," replied Mourad, " has
been that century to me ; sorrow and its com-

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