THE LEGEND OF THE WEEPING CHAMBER.

than the former-some boys, some girls; and every new-comer was received with additional delight and still grander ceremonies; so that the people began to say, "Is this a race of sovereigns?"

Now Halil grew up to the age of twelve-still 3 charming lad; but the parents, always fully occupied by the last arrival, had not carried out their project of education. He was as wild and untamed as a colt, and spent more of his time in the street than in the company of his mother; who, by degrees, began to look upon him with a kind of calm friendship due to strangers. Fadlallah, as he took his accustomed walk with his merchant friends, used from time to time to encounter a ragged boy fighting in the streets with the sons of the Jew butcher; but his eyes beginning to grow dim, he often passed without recognizing him. One day, however, Halil, breathless and bleeding, ran up and took refuge beneath the skirts of his mantle from a crowd of savage urchins. Fadlallah was amazed, and said, "O, my son-for I think thou art my son-what evil hath befallen thee, and wherefore do I see thee in this state?" The boy, whose voice was choked by sobs, looked up into his face, and said, "Father, I am the son of the richest merchant of Beyrout, and behold, there is no one so little cared for as I."

carved wood, and drew Halil to her bosom; and
Fadlallah knew that she loved him still, because
she kissed his face, regardless of the blood and
dirt that stained it. She then washed him and
dressed him, and gave him a purse of gold, and
handed him over to his father; who had resolved
to send him off by the caravan that started that
very afternoon. Halil, surprised and made happy
by unwanted caresses, was yet delighted at the
idea of beginning an adventurous life; and went
away, manfully stifling his sobs, and endeavoring
to assume the grave deportment of a merchant.
Selima shed a few tears, and then, attracted by
a crow and a chuckle from the cradle, began to
tickle the infant's soft double chin, and went on
with her interrupted lesson, "Baba, Baba!"

Halil started on his journey, and having passed
through the Valley of Robbers, the Valley of
Lions, and the Valley of Devils-this is the way
in which Orientals localize the supposed dangers
of traveling-arrived at the good city of Bassora;
where his uncle received him well, and promised
to send him as supercargo on board the frit ves-
sel he dispatched to the Indian seas. What time
was spent by the caravan upon the road, the nar
rative does not state. Traveling is slow work
in the East; but almost immediately on his ar-
rival in Bassora, Halil was engaged in a love ad-
venture. If traveling is slow, the approaches of
manhood are rapid. The youth's curiosity was
excited by the extraordinary care taken to con-
ceal his cousin Miriam from his sight; and hav-
ing introduced himself into her garden, beheld,
and, struck by her wonderful beauty, loved her.
With an Oriental fondness, he confessed the truth
to his uncle, who listened with anger and dismay,
and told him that Miriam was betrothed to the
Sultan. Halil perceived the danger of indulging
his passion, and promised to suppress it; but
while he played a prudent part, Miriam's curios-
ity was also excited, and she, too, beheld and
They met and
loved her cousin. Bolts and bars can not keep
two such affections asunder.
plighted their troth, and were married secretly,
and were happy. But inevitable discovery came.
Miriam was thrown into a dungeon; and the un-
happy Halil, loaded with chains, was put on board
a vessel, not as supercargo, but as prisoner; with
orders that he should be left in some distant

Fadlallah's conscience smote him, and he wiped the boy's bleeding face with the corner of his silk caftan, and blessed him; and, taking him by the hand, led him away. The merchants smiled benignly one to the other, and, pointing with their thumbs, said, "We have seen the model youth!" While they laughed and sneered, Fadlallah, humbled, yet resolved, returned to his house, leading the ragged Halil, and entered his wife's chamber. Selima was playing with her seventh child, and teaching it to lisp the word "Baba" -about the amount of education which she had found time to bestow on each of her offspring. When she saw the plight of her eldest son she frowned, and was about to scold him; but Fadlallah interposed, and said, "Wife, speak no harsh words. We have not done our duty by this boy. May God forgive us; but we have looked on those children that have bloomed from thee, more as play-things than as deposits for which we are responsible. Halil has become a wild out-of-country. door lad, doubting with some reason of our love. It is too late to bring him back to the destiny we had dreamt of; but he must not be left to grow up thus uncared for. I have a brother established in Bassora; to him will I send the lad to learn the arts of commerce, and to exercise himself in adventure, as his father did before him. Bestow .hy blessing upon him, Selima (here the good old nan's voice trembled), and may God in his mercy orgive both thee and me for the neglect which as made this parting necessary. I shall know hat I am forgiven if, before I go down into the omb, my son return a wise and sober man; not inmindful that we gave him life, and forgetting hat, until now, we have given him little else." Selima laid her seventh child in its cradle of

Meanwhile a dreadful pestilence. fell upon Beyrout, and among the first sufferers was an eighth little one, that had just learned to say Baba!" Selima was almost too astonished to be grieved. It seemed to her impossible that death should come into her house, and meddle with the fruits of so much suffering and love. When they came to take away the little form which she had so often fondled, her indignation burst forth, and she smote the first old woman who stretched out her rough unsympathetic hand. But a shriek from her waiting-woman announced that another victim was singled out; and the frantic mother rushed like a tigress to defend the young that yet remained to her. But the enemy was invisible; and (so the story goes) all her

little ones drooped one by one and died; so that on the seventh day Selima sat in her nursery gazing about with stony eyes, and counting her losses upon her fingers-Iskender, Selima, Wardy, Fadlallah, Hanna, Hennenah, Gereges seven in all. Then she remembered Halil, and her neglect of him; and, lifting up her voice, she wept aloud; and, as the tears rushed fast and hot down her cheeks, her heart yearned for her absent boy, and she would have parted with worlds to have fallen upon his breast-would have given up her life in return for one word of pardon and of love.

wanderings to seek for Fadlallah, that he might redeem his son with wealth; but had passed several years upon the road.

Fortune, however, now smiled upon this unhappy family, and in spite of his age, Fadlallah set out for Fars. Heaven made the desert easy, and the road short for him. On a fine calm evening he entered the gardens of the governor, and found his son gayly singing as he trimmed an orange tree. After a vain attempt to preserve an incognito, the good old man lifted up his hands, and shouting, "Halil, my first born!" fell upon the breast of the astonished slave. Sweet was the interview in the orange grove, sweet the murmured conversation between the strong young man and the trembling patriarch, until the perfumed dew of evening fell upon their heads. Halil's liberty was easily obtained, and father and son returned in safety to Beyrout. Then the Weeping Chamber was closed, and the door walled up; and Fadlallah and Selima lived happily until age gently did its work at their ap

Fadlallah came in to her; and he was now very old and feeble. His back was bent, and his transparent hand trembled as it clutched a cane. A white beard surrounded a still whiter face; and as he came near his wife, he held out his hand toward her with an uncertain gesture, as if the room had been dark. This world appeared to him but dimly. “Selima," said he, "the Giver hath taken. We, too, must go in our turn. Weep, my love; but weep with modera-pointed times; and Halil and Miriam inherited tion, for those little ones that have gone to sing the house and the wealth that had been gathered in the golden cages of Paradise. There is a for them. heavier sorrow in my heart. Since my firstborn, Halil, departed for Bassora, I have only written once to learn intelligence of him. He was then well, and had been received with favor by his uncle. We have never done our duty by that boy." His wife replied, "Do not reproach me; for I reproach myself more bitterly than thou canst do. Write, then, to thy brother to obtain tidings of the beloved one. I will make of this chamber a weeping chamber. It has reounded with merriment enough. All my children learned to laugh and to talk here. I will hang it with black, and erect a tomb in the midst; and every day I will come and spend two hours, and weep for those who are gone and for him who is absent." Fadlallah approved her design; and they made a weeping chamber, and lamented together every day therein. But their letters to Bassora remained unanswered; and they began to believe that fate had chosen a solitary tomb for Halil.

One day a woman, dressed in the garb of the poor, came to the house of Fadlallah with a boy about twelve years old. When the merchant saw them he was struck with amazement, for he beheld in the boy the likeness of his son Halil; and he called aloud to Selima, who, when she came, shrieked with amazement. The woman told her story, and it appeared that she was Miriam. Having spent some months in prison, she had escaped and taken refuge in a forest in the house of her nurse. Here she had given birth to a son, whom she had called by his father's name. When her strength returned, she had set out as a beggar to travel over the world in

search of her lost husband. Marvelous were the

adventures she underwent, God protecting her throughout, until she came to the land of Persia, where she found Halil working as a slave in the garden of the Governor of Fars. After a few stolen interviews, she had again resumed her

The supernatural part of the story remains to be told. The Weeping Chamber was never again opened; but every time that a death was about to occur in the family, a shower of heavy teardrops was heard to fall upon its marble floor, and low wailings came through the walled doorway. Years, centuries, passed away, and the mystery repeated itself with unvarying uniformity. The family fell into poverty, and only occupied a portion of the house, but invariably before one of its members sickened unto death, a shower of heavy drops, as from a thunder cloud, pattered on the pavement of the Weeping Chamber, and was heard distinctly at night through the whole house. At length the family quitted the country in search of better fortunes elsewhere, and the house remained for a long time uninhabited.

The lady who narrated the story went to live in the house, and passed some years without being disturbed; but one night she was lying awake, and distinctly heard the warning shower dripping heavily in the Weeping Chamber. Next day the news came of her mother's death, and she hastened to remove to another dwelling. The house has since been utterly abandoned to rats, mice, beetles, and an occasional ghost seen sometimes streaming along the rain-pierced terraces. No one has ever attempted to violate the solitude of the sanctuary where Selima wept for the seven little ones taken to the grave, and for the absent one whom she had treated with unmotherly neglect.

AN OLD MAID'S FIRST LOVE. WENT once to the south of France for my

Wealth; and being recommended to choose the neighborhood of Avignon, took my place, 1 scarcely know why, in the diligence all the way from Paris. By this proceeding I missed the steam-voyage down the Rhône, but fell in with

AN OLD MAID'S FIRST LOVE.

and my brother-in-law; and if that does not suc-
ceed-why, I will make love to the futur myself,
and whisper in his ear that a comfortable little
income available at once, and a willing old maid,
are better than a cross-grained damsel with ex-
pectations only. You see I am resolved to make
any sacrifice to effect my object."

some very pleasant people, about whom I am going to speak. I traveled in the intérieur, and from Lyon had no one for companion but a fussy little lady, of a certain age, who had a large basket, a parrot in a cage, a little lapdog, a bandbox, a huge blue umbrella, which she could never succeed in stowing any where, and a moth-eaten I laughed at the old maid's disinterestedness, muff. In my valetudinarian state I was not pleased with this inroad-especially as the little which was perhaps greater than at first appeared. lady had a thin, pinched-up face, and obstinate- At least she assured me that she had refused ly looked out of the window, while she popped several respectable offers, simply because she about the intérieur as if she had just taken lodg-liked the independence of a single life; and that ings, and was putting them in order, throwing if she had remained single to that age, it was a me every now and then some gracious apology sign that marriage had nothing attractive for her We discussed the point learnedly as "Mince as you please, in itself. in a not unpleasant voice. you are a bore." I am the diligence rolled; and what with the original madam," thought I; " sorry to add that I was very unaccommodating, turn of my companion's mind, the sportive disgave no assistance in the stowing away of the position of Fanfreluche, and the occasional disumbrella, and when Fanfreluche came and placed jointed soliloquies of Coco, the parrot, our time his silken paws upon my knees, pushed him away passed very pleasantly. When night came, Mlle. very rudely. The little old maid-it was evident Nathalie ensconced herself in the corner behind this was her quality-apologized for her dog as her parcels and animals, and endeavored to sleep; she had done for herself, and went on arranging but the jolting of the diligence, and her own liveher furniture-an operation not completed before ly imagination, wakened her every five minutes; and I had each time to give her a solemn assurwe got to St. Saphorin. ance, on my word of honor as a gentleman, that there was no particular danger of our being upset into the Rhône.

66

For some hours a perfect silence was preserved, although my companion several times gave a short, dry cough, as if about to make an observation. At length, the digestion of a hurried dinner being probably completed, I felt all of a sudden quite bland and sociable, and began to "Decidedly," be mightily ashamed of myself. thought I, I must give this poor woman the So I spoke, very benefit of my conversation." likely with that self-satisfied air assumed sometimes by men accustomed to be well received. To my great vexation the old maid had by this time taken offense, and answered in a very stiff Now the whole absurdity and reserved manner. of my conduct was evident to me, and I determined to make amends. Being naturally of a diplomatic turn, I kept quiet for a while, and then began to make advances to Fanfreluche. The poor animal bore no malice, and I won his heart Then I gave a piece by stroking his long ears. of sugar to the parrot; and having thus effected a practicable breach, took the citadel by storm by pointing out a more commodious way of arranging the great blue umbrella.

We were capital friends thenceforward; and I soon knew the history of Mlle. Nathalie Bernard by heart. A mightily uninteresting history it was to all but herself; so I shall not repeat it: suffice to say, that she had lived long on her little income, as she called it, at Lyon, and was now on her way to Avignon, where a very important This was no other than to object called her. save her niece Marie from a distasteful marriage, which her parents, very good people, but dazzled by the wealth of the unamiable suitor, wished to bring about.

"And have you," said I, "any reasonable hope of succeeding in your mission?"

"Parbleu!" replied the old maid, "I have composed a little speech on ill-assorted unions, which I am sure will melt the hearts of my sister

We were ascending a steep hill next day, Trees and fields were both had got out to walk. I have omitted to note that it was autumn. touched by the golden fingers of the season. The prospect was wide, but I forget the precise locality. On the opposite side of the Rhône, which rolled its rapid current in a deepening valley to our right, rose a range of hills, covered with fields that sloped wonderfully, and sometimes gave place to precipices or wood-lined declivities. Here and there the ruins of some old castlereminiscences of feudal times-rose amid lofty Nathalie became crags, and traced their jagged outline against the deep-blue sky of Provence. almost sentimental as she gazed around on this beautiful scene.

We had climbed about half of the hill; the diligence was a little way behind; the five horses were stamping and striking fire from the pavement as they struggled up with the ponderous vehicle: the other passengers had lingered in the We here saw rear with the conductor, who had pointed out a little auberge among some trees. a man preceding us upon the road carrying a little bundle at the end of a stick over his shoulder: he seemed to advance painfully. Our attention was attracted-I scarcely knew why. He paused a moment-then went on with an uncertain step-paused again, staggered forward, and fell on his face just as we came up. Mlle. Nathalie, with a presence of mind that surprised me, had her smelling-bottle out in an instant, and was soon engaged in restoring the unfortunate traveler to consciousness. I assisted as well as I was able, and trust that my goodwill may atone for my awkwardness. Nathalie did every thing; and, just as the diligence reached us, was gazing with delight on the lan

guid opening of a pair of as fine eyes as I have money he had taken with him was gone by the ever seen, and supporting in her lap a head cov-time he reached Lyon. He had passed through ered with beautiful curls. Even at that moment, as I afterward remembered, she looked upon the young man as a thing over which she had acquired a right of property. "He is going our way," said she: "let us lift him into the diligence."

"A beggarly Parisian; yo, yo!" quoth the postillion as he passed, clacking his long whip. "Who will answer for his fare?" inquired the conductor.

that city without stopping, and for more than two days, almost for two nights, had incessantly pursued his journey, without rest and without food, until he had reached the spot where, exhausted with fatigue and hunger, he had fallen, perhaps to perish had we not been there to assist him.

Nathalie listened with eager attention to this narrative, told with a frankness which our sympathy excited. Now and then she gave a con

"I will," replied Nathalie, taking the words vulsive start, or checked a hysterical sob, and at out of my mouth.

last fairly burst into tears. I was interested as In a few minutes the young man, who looked well as she, but retained more calmness to obbewildered and could not speak, was safely serve how moral beauty almost vainly struggled stowed away among Nathalie's other parcels; to appear through the insignificant features of and the crest of the hill being gained, we began this admirable woman. Her little eyes, reddened rolling rapidly down a steep descent. The little with weeping; her pinched-up nose, blooming old maid, though in a perfect ecstasy of delight at the point; her thin lips, probably accustomed -the incident evidently appeared to her quite to sarcasm; her cheeks, with a leaden citron hue; an adventure-behaved with remarkable pru- her hair that forked up in unmanageable curls— dence. While I was puzzling my head to guess all combined to obscure the exquisite expression by what disease this poor young man had been of respect and sympathy, perhaps already of love, attacked, she was getting ready the remedies sparkling from her kindled soul, that could just that appeared to her the most appropriate, in the be made out by an attentive eye. At length, shape of some excellent cakes and a bottle of however, she became for a moment perfectly good wine, which she fished out of her huge beautiful, as, when the young painter had finbasket. Her protégé, made tame by hunger, al- ished his story, with an expression that showed lowed himself to be treated like a child. First, how bitterly he regretted his abandoned art, she she gave him a very small sip of Burgundy, then took both his hands in hers, and exclaimed, “No, a diminutive fragment of cake; and then another mon enfant, you shall not be thus disappointed. sip and another piece of cake-insisting on his Your genius"-she already took for granted he eating very slowly. Being perfectly useless, I had genius-" shall have an opportunity for de looked quietly on, and smiled to see the submis-velopment. Your mother can not do what is siveness with which this fine, handsome fellow necessary-she has played her part. I will be a allowed himself to be fed by the fussy old maid,-second mother to you, in return for the little and how he kept his eyes fixed upon her with an expression of wondering admiration.

Before we arrived at Avignon we knew the history of the young man. He was an artist, who had spent several years studying in Paris, without friends, without resources, except a miserable pittance which his mother, a poor peasant woman, living in a village not far from Aix, had managed to send him. At first he had been upheld by hope; and although he knew that his mother not only denied herself necessaries, but borrowed money to support him, he was consoled by the idea that the time would come when, by the efforts of his genius, he would be able to repay every thing, with the accumulated interest which affection alone would calculate. But his expenses necessarily increased, and no receipts came to meet them. He was compelled to apply to his mother for further assist

affection you can bestow on me without ingratitude to her to whom you owe your life.

"My life has to be paid for twice," said he, kissing her hand. Nathalie could not help looking round proudly to me. It was so flattering to receive the gallant attentions of so handsome a young man, that I think she tried to forget how she had bought them.

In the exuberance of her hospitality, the little old maid invited both Claude Richer and myself to spend some time in the large farm-house of her brother-in-law. I declined, with a promise to be a frequent visitor; but Claude, who was rather commanded than asked, could do nothing but accept. I left them at the diligence office, and saw them walk away, the little Nathalie affecting to support her feeble companion. For the honor of human nature let me add, that the conductor said nothing about the fare. "It would have been indelicate," he said to me, "to remind Mlle. Nathalie of her promise in the young man's presence. I know her well; and she will pay me at a future time. At any rate, I must show that there is a heart under this waistcoat." So saying, the conductor thumped his breast with simple admiration of his own humanity, and went away, after recommending me to the Café de Paris-indeed an excellent house.

AN OLD MAID'S FIRST LOVE.

|

will not play at cross-purposes with you. If
this young man really loves his art, and his art
alone, as he pretends, could he do better than
reward me as you call it-for my assistance?
The word has a cruel signification, but you did
not mean it unkindly."

I shall say nothing of a variety of little incidents that occurred to me at Avignon, nor about my studies on the history of the popes who resided there. I must reserve myself entirely for the development of Nathalie's romance, which I could not follow step by step, but the chief features of which I was enabled to catch during a series of visits I paid to the farm-house. Nathalie herself was very communicative to me at first, and scarcely deigned to conceal her sentiments. By degrees, however, as the catastro-walking in a neighboring field, and pausing now phe approached, she became more and more reserved; and I had to learn from others, or to guess the part she played.

I looked at her wan, sallow countenance, that had begun for some days to wear an expression of painful anxiety. At that moment I saw over a hedge-but she could not-Claude and Marie

and then to bend their heads very close together
in admiration of some very common flower.
"Poor old maid," thought I, "you will have no
reward save the consciousness of your own pure
intentions."

structive than any elaborate analysis of human
passions in general; but it would require a vol-
in whom alone I felt particularly in-
ume, and I can only here give a mere summary.
Nath

The farm-house was situated on the other side of the river, in a small plain, fertile and well The minute development of this drama withwooded. Old Cossu, the owner, was a fine jolly fellow, but evidently a little sharp in money-mat-out dramatic scenes would, perhaps, be more inters. I was surprised at first that he received the visit of Claude favorably; but when it came out that a good part of his capital belonged to Nathalie, every circumstance of deference to her was explained. Mère Cossu was not a very re-terested, soon found that she had deceived hermarkable personage; unless it be remarkable self as to the nature of her sentiments for Claude that she entertained the most profound venera--that instead of regarding him with almost mation for her husband, quoted his commonest say-ternal solicitude, she loved him with an intensity ings as witticisms, and was ready to laugh her- that is the peculiar characteristic of passions self into convulsions if he sneezed louder than awakened late in life, when the common consousual. Marie was a charming little person; per-lation is inadmissible-" after all, I may find bethaps a little too demure in her manners, considering her wicked black eyes. She was soon very friendly with Claude and me, but seemed to prefer passing her time in whispered conversations with Nathalie. I was let into the secret that their conversation turned principally on the means of getting rid of the husband-elect-a great lubberly fellow, who lived some leagues off, and whose red face shone over the garden-gate, in company with a huge nosegay, regularly every Sunday morning. In spite of the complying temper of old Cossu in other respects when Nathalie gave her advice, he seemed obstinately bent on choosing his own son-in-law. Parents are oftener correct than romancers will allow in their negative opinions on this delicate subject, but I can not say as much for them when they undertake to be affirmative.

I soon observed that Nathalie was not so entirely devoted to the accomplishment of the object for which she had undertaken the journey as she had promised; and, above all, that she spoke no more of the disinterested sacrifice of herself as a substitute for Marie. I maliciously alluded to this subject in one of our private confabulations, and Nathalie, instead of being offended, frankly answered that she could not make big Paul Boneau happy and assist Claude in his studies at the same time. "I have now," she said, "an occupation for the rest of my life-namely, to develop this genius, of which France will one day be proud; and I shall devote myself to it anremittingly."

"Come, Nathalie," replied I, taking her arm in mine as we crossed the poplar-meadow, "have you no hope of a reward?"

"I understand." quoth she, frankly; "and I

ter." This was her last, her only chance of a happiness which she had declared to me she had never dreamed of, but which in reality she had only declined because it did not present itself to her under all the conditions required by her refined and sensitive mind. Claude, who was an excellent fellow, but incapable of comprehending her or sacrificing himself, never swerved from grateful deference to her; but I could observe, that as the state of her feelings became more apparent, he took greater care to mark the character of his sentiments for her, and to insist with some affectation on the depth of his filial affection. Nathalie's eyes were often red with tears

a fact which Claude did not choose, perhaps, to notice, for fear of an explanation. Marie, on the contrary, became more blooming every day, while her eloquent eyes were still more assiduously bent upon the ground. It was evident to me that she and Claude understood one another perfectly well.

At length the same thing became evident te Nathalie. How the revelation was made to her I do not know; but sudden it must have been, for I met her one day in the poplar-field, walking hurriedly along with an extraordinary expression of despair in her countenance. I know not why, but the thought at once occurred to me that the Rhône ran rapid and deep not far off, and I threw myself across her path. She started like a guilty thing, but did not resist when I took her hand and led her back slowly toward the farm-house. We had nearly reached it in silence, when she suddenly stopped, and bursting into tears, turned away into a by-lane where was a little bench under an elm. Here she sat down and sobbed for a long time, while I stood by. At length she