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the crescendo style; for the performer, placing a hand behind each ear, in genuine costermonger fashion, commences a low, plaintive whine, which is increased until he is unable to hold out any longer. He then pauses and draws breath, takes a higher note, and goes ahead again. Another pause, a higher key, and louder whine, and if unable to hold out longer, he concludes the admired and intoned ditty. Leaving the coffee-houses, we paid a visit to the great khan of the city, which is, in fact, the grand hotel of Asia; for all tribes, ranks, religions, and characters, may be found here, intent upon buying and selling.

This khan is of modern erection, having been built by Assad Pasha about fifty years ago. It is entered from one of the bazaars adjoining the great mosque, by a fine lofty gate of Moresque architecture, elaborately and richly sculptured, and happily conceived.

In the centre of the building is a spacious court, paved with broad stones, surrounded with a fine arcade, beneath which piles of goods may be seen, with their owners standing by their side, watching the passers-by; or in another part, receiving the money for their sale. There is a scribe in yon corner, seated crosslegged, holding a sheet of paper in his left hand, while with the right he traces some characters from right to left upon the paper with a reed pen, frequently pausing to listen to the aged man that bends over him dictating, or stopping to dip his pen in the curious inkstand at his side.

In the centre of the court is a fountain, whose constant fall reverberates through the building, and a tank for the camels and mules. Near to the tank stands a man busily employed cleaning a pipestick, by means of a long wire with a piece of cotton at the end; around him are arranged ready filled nârgélèhs and long pipes, intermingled with a sheesheh or two, and a pan of lighted charcoal in front. A quarter of a piastre (a piastre averages 24d.) will procure you a pipe or nárgélèh.

Why, there is a group of camels on the other side of the court, and some savagelooking men at their side-Are they for

sale? No! they are brought here by the men at their side, who are Bedouins, to let out for hire to the merchants who have bought bales of merchandise, and wish them conveyed to their destination.

Beneath the arcade are the warehouses, and flights of stone steps leading to the upper stories, in which are numerous counting-houses, with a single window in each, where the merchant or traveller transacts his business, and receives his friends. When the occupant takes possession of his room it has not a vestige of furniture, but, as if by magic, is soon made tolerably comfortable. His servant spreads a carpet, unrolls a bale, and extracts from it a bed with cushions, which are laid upon the floor, a coffee-pot and two cups; and for the other necessary articles he applies to the adjoining bazaar; yet few require more articles of furniture than we have mentioned.

The cupola of the building is bold, supported by granite pillars and arches; and the masonry consists of alternate rows of black and white stones.

The khans, which yield great revenues, are generally built by wealthy pachas, who bequeath them to their families, or to the city; and they are undoubtedly of great benefit to the weary traveller, the speculative merchant, or the poor wanderer; for, open to all classes, religions, or tribes,-at all hours, day or night, and all seasons-the poor as well as the rich can rest here from the toils of labour, and smoke their—

"Sublime tobacco! which from East to West
Cheers the tar's labour, or the Turkman's rest;
Which on the Moslem's ottoman divides
His hours, and rivals opium and his brides!"

METHOD OF FINDING THE COURSE OF THE AIR WHEN THE WIND IS STILL.-Place a

basin of water in a free exposure, throw a red-hot cinder into it, and observe how the smoke which it produces inclines. Sailors throw a piece of live coal into the sea for the same purpose; and also wet a finger, hold it up in the air, and then by feeling which part becomes (by evaporation cool, they judge of the direction of the

current of air. An instrument on the last principle has been invented by Mr. B. M. Forster.

THE WHITE CURTAIN;

OR

CLEANLINESS AND GODLINESS. CLEANLINESS is not godliness. Some cleanly people are not religious; and some religious people are not so cleanly as they ought to be. Notwithstanding this, godliness and cleanliness are good friends to each other. Cleanliness removes many obstacles out of the way to religion; and religion has a powerful tendency to promote a taste for cleanliness, and the decencies and comforts of life in general. There is great truth and sound practical wisdom in the advice not long since given by a bishop to his clergy, to exert themselves in promoting cleanliness, and attention to health, among the inhabitants of their district, because "it is certain that persons immersed in hopeless misery and filth, are, for the most part, inaccessible to the motives and consolations of the gospel." There may be here and there a solitary exception, a truly pious person may be found where least expected. But in such rare cases it will be seen, that the surrounding dirt and wretchedness is a great trouble to them, and if possible, they will make some effort to improve the state of things around, or to effect their own removal to a better neighbourhood. Facts illustrative of these remarks, are continually occurring, especially in those crowded and long-neglected parts of London and other populous towns, where efforts are now made to rouse the people to self-improvement, and to impart the blessings of education to the children of the wretched and the vicious.

at the window. You can't miss it, sir, it is the only white curtain in the street." The man's curtain was formerly as dirty as those of his neighbours; but the change in his character works well for his personal appearance, for the comfort of his family, and for the aspect of his dwelling. But those who have been brought to like clean white curtains, do not often like to continue in a residence where everything the eye looks on is foul, and where what was clean one hour, becomes soiled almost the next hour. They ordinarily remove to some street or court which is a step higher in its sanitary condition. When people become truly godly, they begin to have a notion of having a cleanly and a healthy home. If godliness does not stimulate to proper attention to what is profitable for this life, it is much to be questioned, whether it is the real genuine sort to which belongs the promise of the life that is to come.

Here is another case, showing the good results carried home by children trained, at school, to notions and habits of cleanliness. Soon after the opening of a Ragged School in a very bad district, a boy and girl were admitted in a deplorable state of filth and rags. The first thing done for them, was to scrub them clean and put on each a new pinafore. Such was the change in their appearance, that all the neighbours looked at them with astonishment as they returned home, and their mother scarcely knew her own children. Both mother and children soon found that cleanliness was a standing order of the school. However poor and ragged the dress of the scholars, the teacher was sure to look after cleanliness In one of the worst neighbourhoods in in their persons. This good rule worked London, a great change was wrought in well in this poor family. First, the the character of a man who had been no- children would not go to school until toriously profligate and depraved. He they had been properly washed. Then had ceased to be vicious and had become the mother, seeing them clean, began to religious. A gentleman who had heard be ashamed of her own dirty skin and of the circumstance, was desirous of visit-matted hair, and tattered gown. ing the man, and on arriving at the street pointed out to him, inquired for the residence of- of the first person he met, "Oh, replied the person addressed, pointing to an humble dwelling. "Yonder is the house, with the clean white curtain

She

took to the daily use of soap and water on her own person. Their clothes, and her husband's shirt, too, had the benefit of the wash-tub. The room floor, that before seemed not to have been cleansed for years, began, in the course of a few

weeks, to show that the scrubbing-brush had been applied to it. In short, in three months after the admission of the children into the school, the whole appearance of both room and family wore an aspect of cleanliness and comfort, altogether unlike what had been exhibited before. The children made progress in their lessons; they were never absent from their class, and the texts of Scripture and hymns they learned at school, they took home and repeated to their parents. The consequence was, that the father began to think more of his own fire-side than he used to do, and the progress of the children pleased him so much, that he laid by a penny a-week to purchase a Bible for each of them. The improvement wrought in the family, was observed by all the neighbours, and the landlord of the court, attracted by their new habits, was induced to make them an offer to take the whole number of cottages under their care. Accordingly the father of this once wretched family, became sub-landlord of the whole court, which soon began to look comfortable and clean. The dustheap in the centre was removed, and the houses whitewashed twice a-year, and so continued until the death of the father. Meanwhile the children had grown up, and gone out to get their living in an honest and respectable manner. The girl in domestic service, where she still remains the boy as an agricultural labourer. The mother, on the death of her husband, went to live with her son in the country. See how cleanliness and godliness have gone hand in hand in bettering the condition of families.

MORAL CULTURE.

IN books, conversation, in example, in the country walk, and by the fireside, a high morality, looking heavenward, but not always bringing religion into verbal expression, should be kept in view. Good and evil should each have its own fixed position, and the difference be accurately marked, so that even a child, as far as concerns his present condition, may distinguish between them. He should be

beguiled, by leading questions, into forming a right judgment upon all the incidents containing in themselves examples of good for evil. The practice will improve the intellectual faculties, and lay a foundation for the establishment of moral principles; and, as the mind is gradually expanded, more enlarged views should be submitted to it, until, at length, the reasons may be assigned why virtue is good, and vice evil. To accomplish these great objects, a perfect confidence must subsist between parent and child. The mind of the one should open instinctively to the love of the other; for affection, and not severity, rules the heart. An austere parent will never know his child. This seems to me the most affecting of human thoughts, and among the harvest of human afflictions. But it is a common case. A father, thinking he has a stern duty to perform, does it sternly. The child shrinks from an austere look, and pours his confidence into more inviting ears. I have seen a child tremble before a father in the narration of a simple and unimportant event, although it contained nothing which could offend, and was recommended by the truth. This arose from want of a clear perception, whether it was safe or unsafe to disclose it; or whether the account might be agreeable or offensive. This is, in every respect, a most lamentable state of things, but it is no uncommon one. But when the instinctive confidence which flows from the hallowed promptings of pure nature has free play, the opposite prevails. If the child be allowed to obey his inward impulses, his heart, like the flower expanding to receive the genial rays of the sun, will be opened to his parent But the parent's love must be manifest to the child; he must be convinced that it warms his bosom; and then the sympathetic feeling will prompt him to rush into his parent's arms, to disclose every fear and hope, every thought that pains, and every sensation that delights the heart, with the full confidence that his feelings will be reciprocated.

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fumes. He then read some extracts from

HISTORY OF THE CHANDELIER an ancient work, and after praying for a

WITH TWELVE BRANCHES. TRANSLATED FROM THE PERSIAN, BY

PETIS DELACROIX.

A VENERABLE Dervish fell ill at the house of a poor widow, who lived in great distress in the neighbourhood of Bassora. He was so grateful for the kindness and attention of his hostess, that when he was recovered, and on the point of departure, he said to her:-"I have remarked that thou canst, with great difficulty, manage to subsist thyself, but thou hast not sufficient to share with thy son Abdallah. If thou wilt confide the youth to my care, I will endeavour to prove, by my tenderness to him, my sense of the obligations I owe thee."

The good woman acceded with joy to the proposition, and the Dervish left with his companion, telling him beforehand that he was about to make a voyage that might last two years.

While traversing various countries, the Dervish treated Abdallah with great generosity, causing him to be instructed and richly clothed. They lived together in opulence, and the young man having been attacked with a dangerous illness, was completely restored by the skill of the patriarch, who, indeed, behaved to him as if he were his own son.

Abdallah constantly repeated his acknowledgments for their services, but the Dervish would always reply: "My son, it is by actions that gratitude is proved. We shall see hereafter what thine will be." In the course of their travels, they rested one day in a solitary spot, when the Dervish addressed Abdallah thus:

"My son, this will be the termination of our journey. I am about to supplicate heaven that the earth may open, and thou may'st be permitted to enter where thou wilt find riches of endless value. Wilt thou have sufficient courage to descend into the abyss?

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Abdallah assured him of his resolution and firmness, and he might rely on his obedience. The Dervish, on this, lighted a small fire, in which he threw some per

few moments, the ground near them opened, and the patriarch said to the

young man:—

"Thou canst now enter, my dear Abdallah, and I will inform thee it is now in thy power to render me a great service; and this is, perhaps, the only occasion thou mayest have of proving to me that thou art not ungrateful. Do not be daz zled by all the wealth that will be outspread around thee, but think only of obtaining possession of an iron chandelier with twelve branches, thou wilt find near a door. This object is absolutely necessary to me. Return quickly with it."

Abdallah promised to follow these instructions implicitly, and descended, full of confidence, into the subterranean cave; but forgetting what had been expressly enjoined by the Dervish, and intent upon filling his pockets with gold and dia monds, which lay in heaps around him, the opening through which he had entered closed with a loud noise. He had the presence of mind, however, to seize the iron chandelier which had been indi. cated to him, and although the situation in which he now found himself was fearful, he did not give way to despair. He reflected that it was his own disobedience to the injunctions of his benefactor, that had been the cause of this accident, and in a passion of repentance for his folly and ingratitude, he prostrated himself to the ground, and prayed to heaven for forgiveness. He then rose, and after searching about the place, discovered a small orifice, through which, after many trials, he contrived to escape from the wonderful cavern. On reaching the spot near which he had descended, he looked about for the Dervish, but he had disappeared, and all his efforts to discover him were useless. He wished to deliver to the old man the chandelier he had so much coveted; and after doing so, he had determined to leave the patriarch; finding himself sufficiently rich with what he had brought from the cave, to dispense with his assistance.

After wandering at hazard some consi

derable distance, Abdallah was astonished | ance. During an hour they performed the same rotary movement as before, and on leaving, each one threw on the ground a coin.

to find himself suddenly near the house of his mother, which he had thought far away. She enquired after the venerable Dervish, and Abdallah then related all that had happened, the danger he had escaped in endeavouring to satisfy his cupidity, and displayed the riches he had obtained in the cave of diamonds.

His mother, on seeing them, believed that the Dervish had only been trying the courage and obedience of her son, and it was as well to profit by the gifts that fortune had brought them, for such was, undoubtedly, the intention of the holy

man.

Whilst they were contemplating the treasures with raptured eyes, and making a thousand grand projects for the future, the riches suddenly vanished from sight. At this, Abdallah again reproached himself for his ingratitude and disobedience, and seeing that the chandelier remained, and resisted the enchantment, or rather punishment that always falls on those who do not fulfil their promise, he exclaimed, prostrating himself, "That which has happened to me is just. I have lost what I was unwilling to give up, and the chandelier I wished to present to the Dervish remains with me. This is a proof that it belongs to him, and that the rest was unfairly obtained. The first faults that we commit, are ordinarily accompanied by remorse, but it does not last." Repeating these words, he placed the chandelier in the middle of the apartment.

When night was come, Abdallah, withcut reflection, placed in the chandelier the solitary light that was usually burned in the house, and immediately a Dervish appeared, who turned round for nearly an hour, and disappeared, after throwing him a piece of money.

He repeated the same ceremony for several successive days, and with always a similar success, but he could never summon them more than once in twentyfour hours.

The money thus left with Abdallah and his mother by the Dervishes, was sufficient to supply them with many comforts, and even luxuries. They could not have desired greater happiness, but the sums they received did not suffice to encourage extravagance and waste.

It is always at the risk of danger that the imagination dwells on riches. The sight of the ill-acquired wealth of Abdallah, and the projects they had formerly entertained in consequence, were not entirely effaced from the minds of the mother and son, and the latter, impatient at the slow distribution of favour by the chandelier, took the resolution of returning it to the Dervish, in the hope of regaining the treasures that had so mysteriously eluded his grasp, or obtaining some generous recompense by taking him an object he had so much valued. Fortunately, he had retained the name of his old protector in his memory, and also that of the city he inhabited, which was called Magrebi. Bidding farewell to his mother, he accordingly set forth with the chandelier in his hands, which he caused to furnish him every evening with the supplies necessary for his journey, and thus saved him the humiliation of asking alms from the travellers he encountered on his way.

When Abdallah arrived at Magrebi, his first care was to enquire at what convent or house Abounadar resided. The patriarch was so well known, that the young man had no difficulty in finding the place. On approaching the gate, he found fifty porters, each having a stick with a gold top in his hand. The courtyard was filled with slaves and domestics; in fact, no princely abode could have exhibited greater magnificence.

The chandelier had twelve branches, and Abdallah, whose thoughts throughout the whole of the next day were occupied on what he had beheld the preceding evening, considered what effect twelve candles might have when lighted together. The following night, therefore, he put his idea into execution, and twelve Abdallah, struck with astonishment Dervishes instantly made their appear-and admiration, could scarcely summon

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