with him, and put their question. The soldier, provoked at this folly, replied in a mocking tone, Why, then, I saluted the greatest fool among you." Though at first confounded by the soldier's decision, each was so unwilling to give up the honour of the salute to another, that all claimed the superiority in folly; but, as they would only have proved their equality in it by coming to blows, they determined to submit the case to the decision of the judges of the neighbouring town of Darmapourg.

It happened to be a court-day, and all the judges and brahmins of the place were assembled: but, on hearing the cause, they declared themselves unable to decide the prize of folly to any of them, as they were all strangers, unless they should all detail some incident of their lives which should prove peculiar eminence in stupidity. The first accordingly began thus :

"I am very ill dressed, as you perceive, and this is the cause. A rich merchant in my neighbourhood one day made me a present of two pieces of very fine cloth, which, before using, I washed, to purify them, and then hung them up on a tree to dry. A dog passed by at this moment, but I could not perceive whether he had touched the linen or not, nor did my children, who were playing at a little distance. In order to assure myself of the fact, I knelt down on all-fours, making myself about the dog's height, and crawled under the linen. Did I touch?' I asked. 'No,' replied my children. But I reflected that as the dog's tail was turned up, it might by chance have touched my linen: I accordingly fastened a reaping-hook on my back, and passed under it. The hook touched; and convinced by this that the dog must have profaned my linen, I tore it in a thousand pieces. The adventure spread, and every one called me a fool. Even if the dog did touch your linen,' said some, 'could not you have washed it again?' Why did you not rather give it to the poor Soudras?'t cried others. After such a piece of folly, who will ever give you clothes in future?' Their predictions were just, for since that time, when I ask for linen-To tear in pieces, doubtless,' is always the reply."

When the first Brahmin had ended, one of the auditors said,-" It seems, then, you run well on your hands and feet?"-" You shall see," replied he: and he scampered round the hall in that posture, while the assembly was in convulsions of laughter. The second then spoke :

"One day, being about to attend a public festival, I had my head shaved. I desired my wife to give the barber a halfpenny, but she by mistake gave him a penny. I demanded my change, but this the barber refused: However,' said he, if you like, I will shave your wife's head for the disputed halfpenny. Very well,' I replied. Accordingly, I held my wife while the barber shaved her head: after which he decamped, and published the affair every where. It was universally believed and said, that I had surprised my wife with a lover, and had caused her head to be shaved as a punishment: and to such a degree did this story gain ground, that an ass was brought to my door, on which it was intended (as usual in such cases) to parade my wife through the village. Her father and mother arrived: and, after abusing me grossly, carried off their daughter; and to add to all my misfortunes, I missed the feast for which I had been preparing myself by three days' fast. Another repast was soon after announced, at which I made my appearance, and was received amidst the hisses of all present, who insisted on my declaring who was the lover of my wife. It was in vain that I protested her innocence, and told my own story. Did ever any one,' they cried, 'hear of a husband's shaving his wife's head, but when a lover was in the case? Either this man must be the greatest liar, or the greatest fool, that ever existed on the face of the earth.""

When the second Brahmin had concluded, the third addressed the assembly: "I was formerly named Anantaya, but I am now called Betel-Anantaya: and

The dog is reckoned an unclean animal in India.

The most degraded of the Indian castes.

August.-VOL. XVII. NO. LXVIII,

M

the following is the cause of my obtaining that nickname. About a month after my marriage, I happened to say to my wife that women were taltlers : to which she replied, evidently alluding to me, that there were some men much more given to tattling than women. Piqued at this retort, I said: Well then, let us see which of us will henceforth speak first.' With all my heart,' replied she: but what shall our wager be?' 'A leaf of betel,'* said I: so the bargain was made, and we went to bed. The next morning we did not make our appearance at the usual hour: our friends called us several times, and knocked at our door, in vain. We persisted in our silence, till at last, alarmed lest we should have died suddenly in the night, they called a carpenter, and forced our door, when they found us alive, awake, and in good health, but both deprived of speech. They were now convinced that we were enchanted, and in order to remove the fatal spell, the most famous magician of the neighbourhood was called in, who pronounced us bewitched. A brahmin of our acquaintance, however, maintained that our malady was natural, and promised to cure us. Beginning with me, he took up with pincers a small red-hot bar of gold, which he applied first on the soles of my feet, then on my knees, on the elbows, my stomach, and the top of my head. I sustained my tortures without discovering the least sign of pain, and would have died if necessary, rather than have lost my wager.

"Finding the experiment had failed with me, the brahmin resolved to try it on my wife. But no sooner did she feel the heat than she cried out, 'Ah! that's enough; I have lost my wager:' then turning to me, she said, 'See, there's your betel-leaf.'- Ay,' replied I, ' I knew you would speak first;' and thereupon I repeated to all present the story of our wager. 'What?' cried they all, and was it merely that you might not lose a betel-leaf that you alarmed your family and the whole village? Was it for such a trifle that you allowed yourself to be burnt from head to foot? Was there ever such an idiot!' And from that time I have been nicknamed Betel-Anantaya."

The assembly, on hearing the third Brahmin, agreed that he had large pretensions to the soldier's salute: but before deciding, they resolved to hear the fourth speaker, who delivered himself as follows:

"When I was married, my mother, being sick, was unable to fetch my wife from the house of her father: she therefore despatched me on the mission, with a thousand counsels and cautions, saying at the same time, 'Knowing you as I do, I am afraid you will commit some piece of folly.' I promised to conduct myself properly, and set out. After staying three days with my father-in-law, I proceeded homewards. We were then in the summer solstice, and the heat was excessive. We had to cross a sandy plain, more than six miles in extent. The hot sand burnt the feet of my young wife, who had been very delicately brought up in her father's house: she first began to cry, and then, unable to proceed farther, she threw herself on the ground, refusing to rise, and saying that she was determined to die there. I seated myself by her side, uncertain what to do, when a merchant with fifty oxen passed by: I consulted him on the subject, and he replied, that to proceed or to remain would be dangerous for the girl. However,' said he, as her death is certain either way, and you may be suspected of it, suppose you give her to me: I will put her on one of my oxen, and take the utmost care of her; and as for her trinkets, they may be worth twenty pagodas; here are thirty for you. Now will you give me your wife?'

"The arguments of the merchant appeared to me very plausible; so I took his money, gave him my wife, and pursued my way homewards. Where is your wife?' said my mother. Upon this I detailed the affair, and showed her the thirty pagodas I had received: when she, to my surprise, burst forth into transports of rage. 'Wretch! fool! villain!' cried she, have you sold your wife-a brahmaddy↑-to a base merchant? What will her friends and our own say to such a piece of beastly stupidity!'

The Hindoos are fond of chewing betel, of which 200 leaves may be had for a farthing. + Belonging to the Brahmin caste.

"My wife's parents were not long in ignorance of the fate of their daughter: they came to my house, and would have murdered not only myself but my poor mother, had we not saved ourselves by light. They, however, carried the affair before the chiefs of the caste: who, not content with ordering me to pay two hundred pagodas of damages to my father-in-law, would have for ever excluded me from the caste, had it not been for the respect in which they all held my worthy father before me.' It was also ordered that such a fool as I should never be allowed to take a wife, and I am thus condemned to remain a widower for the rest of my life. I appeal to you, gentlemen, after this, whether I am not worthy of the soldier's salute."

After hearing the four Brahmins, the judges decided that each was worthy of the victory. "Each of you," said they, has gained his cause: so you may continue your journey in peace, if possible." The pleaders were all satisfied with this decision, and departei, each shouting, "I have won! I have won!" pp. 351 to 371.

We here close our translations, which have, in our opinion, exhausted this amusing volume. We have condensed in a few pages, as our readers will perceive, the essence of the latter part of the Abbé Dubois' work. The first and greatest part of the volume contains a translation into French of the fables of Vichnou Sarma, who, for some unintelligible reason, is styled in Europe Pilpay but with these we have not interfered, presuming them to be sufficiently known to English readers by the version of Sir William Jones, who has translated them into our language under the title of " Hitopadesa* -a collection which scarcely differs from the "Pantcha-tantra," except in the arrangement of the stories. Of the latter work, we observe, with some astonishment, that a translation is announced; and can only account for the appearance, by presuming that neither translator nor publisher is aware of the fact to which we have just alluded. We are happy, however, in believing that we have anticipated the forthcoming volume, in all that is really new or amusing in its contents: and the present article will at all events spare ourselves and our readers all farther notice of the work in question when it does appear.

THE MOURNER FOR THE BARMECIDES.

FALL'N was the House of Giafar; and its name,
The high, romantic name of Barmecide,

A sound forbidden on its own bright shores,
By the swift Tygris' wave. Stern Haroun's wrath,
Sweeping the mighty with their fame away,
Had so pass'd sentence: but man's chainless heart
Hides that within its depths, which never yet
Th' oppressor's thought could reach.—

'Twas desolate

Where Giafar's halls, beneath the burning sun,
Spread out in ruin, lay. The songs had ceased;
The lights, the perfumes, and the genii-tales

Had ceased; the guests were gone. Yet still one voice
Was there-the fountain's : through those Eastern courts,
Over the broken marble and the grass,

Its low, clear music shedding mournfully.
-And still another voice !-an aged man,
Yet with a dark and fervent eye beneath
His silvery hair, came, day by day, and sate
On a white column's fragment; and drew forth,
From the forsaken walls and dim arcades,

* See his Works, vol. 13, 8vo edit.

A tone that shook them with its answering thrill
To his deep accents. Many a glorious tale
He told that sad yet stately solitude,

Pouring his memory's fulness o'er its gloom,
Like waters in the waste; and calling up,
By song or high recital of their deeds,
Bright, solemn shadows of its vanish'd race
To people their own halls: with these alone,
In all this rich and breathing world, his thoughts
Held still unbroken converse. He had been
Rear'd in this lordly dwelling, and was now
The ivy of its ruins; unto which

His fading life seem'd bound. Day roll'd on day,
And from that scene the loneliness was fled;
For crowds around the grey-hair'd chronicler
Met as men meet, within whose anxious hearts
Fear with deep feeling strives: till, as a breeze
Wanders through forest branches, and is met
By one quick sound and shiver of the leaves,
The spirit of his passionate lament,

As through their stricken souls it pass'd, awoke
One echoing murmur. But this might not be
Under a despot's rule, and, summon'd thence,
The dreamer stood before the Caliph's throne:
Sentenced to death he stood, and deeply pale,
And with his white lips rigidly compress'd,
Till, in submissive tones, he ask'd to speak
Once more, ere thrust from earth's fair sunshine forth.
-Was it to sue for grace?-his burning heart
Sprang, with a sudden lightning, to his eye,

And he was changed!-and thus, in rapid words,

Th' o'ermastering thoughts, more strong than death, found way. -" And shall I not rejoice to go, when the noble and the brave, With the glory on their brows, are gone before me to the grave? What is there left to look on now, what brightness in the land? -I hold in scorn the faded world, that wants their princely band! My chiefs! my chiefs! the old man comes, that in your halls was nursed, That follow'd you to many a fight, where flash'd your sabres first, That bore your children in his arms, your name upon his heartOh! must the music of that name with him from earth depart? It shall not be a thousand tongues, though human voice were still, With that high sound the living air triumphantly shall fill; The wind's free flight shall bear it on, as wandering seeds are sown, And the starry midnight whisper it, with a deep and thrilling tone. For it is not as a flower, whose scent with the dropping leaves expires; And it is not as a household lamp, that a breath should quench its fires; It is written on our battle-fields, with the writing of the sword, It hath left upon our desert-sands, a light, in blessings pour'd. The founts, the many gushing founts, which to the wild ye gave, Of you, my chiefs, shall sing aloud, as they pour a joyous wave; And the groves, with whose deep lovely gloom ye hung the pilgrim's

way,

Shall send from all their sighing leaves your praises on the day.

The very
walls your bounty rear'd, for the stranger's homeless head,
Shall find a murmur to record your tale, my glorious dead!
Though the grass be where ye feasted once, where lute and cittern rung,
And the serpent in your palaces lie coil'd amidst its young.

It is enough! mine eye no more of joy or splendour sees;

I leave your name in lofty faith, to the skies and to the breeze!
I go, since Earth her flower hath lost, to join the bright and fair,
And call the grave a kingly house, for ye, my chiefs! are there."
But while the old man sang, a mist of tears
O'er Haroun's eyes had gather'd, and a thought-
Oh! many a sudden and remorseful thought

Of his youth's once-loved friends, the martyr'd race,
O'erflow'd his softening heart." Live, live!” he cried,
"Thou faithful unto death: live on! and still
Speak of thy lords! they were a princely band."

F. H.

RECOLLECTIONS OF DR. PARR, BY A PUPIL.-NO. 11.

THE writings of the celebrated Dr. Conyers Middleton were a favourite topic of conversation with my preceptor. A near relative of mine, having asked him whether he thought Middleton a Deist, the Doctor took up a volume of his theological works, and read aloud from the Introductory Discourse to the Free Inquiry into Miracles, a most eloquent passage in praise of natural religion, the object of which was to contrast the proofs of the existence of a Deity, arising from a view of the works of the creation, with those deduced from supposed miracles. When Parr laid down the book, he said, "There, Sir, the cloven foot peeps out. Middleton's argument, if good for any thing, is equally good against all miracles." Another topic of discussion, on the same occasion, related to a folio volume by Bellendenus, in which he has made a collection of all the passages in Cicero's works, having reference to his life. Middleton, in the preface to his "Life of Cicero," takes great credit to himself for the prodigious labour he had undergone in doing what had been thus already accomplished by Bellendenus. Did he know of the volume above referred to? Dr. Parr thought that he did, because it was in the University Library at Cambridge, of which he was Librarian. If so, Middleton's boast was unpardonable.

Although my preceptor had a great dislike to playing upon words, yet his applause was once extorted by a Greek pun, which was made in the course of a warm argument between Mr. Payne Knight and himself. The former having, at the moment, a visible advantage, and having made some remark which nettled the Doctor, he, in a moment of irritation, exclaimed,-"Sir, this is not fair argument, it is downright impudence." Mr. Knight immediately replied,-"True, Doctor, the Greek word for it is Ilappnata." This happy repartee completely restored the good humour of Parr, who shook his antagonist by the hand, saying," A fair retort, Sir; I forgive you, I forgive you!" and then laughed heartily.

Between Dr. Parr and Sir Samuel Romilly there subsisted a very long and very intimate friendship. Whilst I was at Hatton, Sir Samuel, then Mr. Romilly, used to attend the Warwick Assizes. On such occasions he always visited my preceptor, who, one day after I had met him at dinner, said to me," Mark my words, Romilly is a great man. We, who are his friends, know this now; but, in a few years, the world will know it." These words were spoken about twenty-seven years ago, when the name of Romilly was little known,