entered his house, and slept till the day appeared. And he said to his wife, "Bring me some clothes," and she brought them. And he made the morning prayer, and when he had finished his prayer he sat down on his seat of judgment grieved at heart. And his wife said to him, "Why art thou sorrowful, oh my lord?" And he related unto her the story from the beginning to the end, and said to her, "If this robber had disputed with Malik, or Abu Hanyfeh, or Es-Shafai, or the Imam Ahmed bin Hambel, he would have overcome them, and taken away their clothes, with his arguments and traditions." And while they were talking, behold a knock at the gate; and he said, "Oh, wife! see who is there." And she said to him, “A man riding on a mule with some clothes." And he said, "Shut the door, that the robber may not enter into us." And he had not finished speaking when the robber entered, and sat down in the seat of honour without giving the salam. And the cadi said, "Why have you not given the salam? Do you not know that the proof of a true believer is the salam?" The robber answered, "The salam presents one of two aspects, either fear or covetousness; now I neither fear or covet." And the cadi said, "Why have you come to me, and what do with me?" you want "I am come, oh worshipful cadi," replied the thief, "on account of something which you have forgotten." "What is that?" said the cadi. And the robber answered, "When I parted from you and returned to my house I lit a lamp, and turned over some of my books, and I found, oh reverend sir, that a cadi is a slave." (A Mamluk.) And the cadi said, "Refrain your tongue from these words, and tell me what you want of me, and what is your intention." And the robber answered, "After I had left you last night I bought a house for fifty dinars, and your ring was only worth five dinars, so I am come to you that you may give me the remainder; and if you will give them to me I will write you a quittance with my own hand, that there shall be no lawsuit, and no demand between me and thee." And the cadi said, "With all my heart." And he gave him the money, and the robber went out and left him and departed. And the cadi's wife came to him and said, "Was it not sufficient what he did to you yesterday, but he must come again to-day?" And the cadi said, "Be silent, lest he hear your words and return, and claim you as his wife, and prove it by demonstrations and arguments from the traditions and the Koran." And this is what has reached us of the story of the cadi and the robber. Praise be to Allah, the Lord of the universe! KING WENZEL'S ESCAPE. FROM THE GERMAN OF MORITZ HARTMANN. BY JOHN OXENFORD. [According to history, Wenzel VI., King of Bohemia, better known as the Emperor Wenceslas, having been imprisoned for his misdeeds by the insurgent citizens of Prague, effected his escape through the assistance of a woman of low origin, named Susan, who took him into a fishing-boat while he was bathing, and rowed him across the Moldau. The version of the story given in the following poem differs from the common account, inasmuch as Wenzel is represented, not as a prisoner, but as in peril from a mob while he is taking a bath.] EXTENDED in his bath King Wenzel lies; A noise arouses him-a distant cry- Then comes a thump of clubs-a clash of swords, A shout triumphant-angry mutter'd words, *A massacre of Jews was one of the horrors of this horrible period of Bohemian history.-J. O. This favourite executioner, whom Wenzel called his gossip, he afterwards beheaded with his own hand.-J. O. This is probably an exaggeration, though Wenzel's queen, Johanna, was attacked and killed by one of his dogs.-J. O. Blended together in a tempest dread. King Wenzel, much amaz'd, lifts up his head, The words grew plainer as the sound increas'd: 66 Long live John Huss, and down with ev'ry priest !" "Nay; is that all? -pray take the priests," quoth he; "John Huss for ever!-there we both agree." "Down with the king's advisers!" says a shout, 66 They starve our bodies till the soul flies out." Forth now the storm with greater fury breaks, The pond'rous clubs against the portals knock, To shed your blood, these wretches burst the door." She takes the oar, which readily she plies, But stout Susanna, with her steady oar, Quick by the islands, edg'd with verdant grass, King Wenzel on his bench, with all his care, With love-sick glance, and thinks her passing fair, 'Maiden, who art so lovely, brave, and stout, "The people's child I am, and will remain, And something like repentance fills my breast, * Wlasta is an important personage in the old mythic history of Bohemia. A GERMAN'S IMPRESSIONS OF ENGLAND.* IT is a melancholy though true fact, that our Teutonic brethren, whom we might call our cousins-German, did we not disdain making so execrable a pun, ever take a peculiar delight in picking out English foibles, and resolutely close their eyes against any merits inherent in John Bull's character. The "Fliegende Blätter" take the lead in holding him up to ridicule, and try to smash him with the ponderous hammer of their wit. Whenever "Fra' Diavolo" is performed, Lord Allcash is made the cynosure of admiring eyes. Be the singing ever so bad, the acting ever so miserable, all this is redeemed if his lordship is held up to laughter. En règle he must be dressed in a long great coat, an extraordinary hat, something like the one placarded "the stunner" in the vicinity of Leicester-square, wear green spectacles, and have round his neck a nondescript sort of cushion, formerly employed in leaning against the corner of a creaking diligence, but long since forgotten. This is the more absurd, as the Germans are now-a-days well acquainted with the "English as they are," and ought to entertain better feelings with regard to them, were it only through gratitude for the impulse given to their industry by the countless swarms who flock to their country. We do not, however, find this feeling so commonly displayed against the French, who, by position and character, are their national enemies. This may be accounted for on two grounds. In the first place, the pseudo-republicanism of France possesses an irresistible charm in the eyes of the liberty-desiring Germans; and, secondly, they are apt to decline a contest in which they are sure to get the worst. A wordy battle between French and German is remarkably like the struggle between a bull and a matador. While the first is lowering his head to rip up his opponent, the latter, with a few graceful entrechats, runs him through with his small sword. Such being the case, we are delighted to find a German literat doing the amende honorable, in a handbook for travellers to England. Dr. Gambihler is apparently a man of education and sense, and a residence in England has enabled him to appreciate the many sterling qualities of our national character. He has broken through the crust of reserve that usually covers John Bull as with a mantle when he has to do with foreigners, and has found beneath it the true-hearted, generous Briton. He has for the nonce assumed English spectacles to view us through, and does not appear to have been injured by the exchange. While finding much to approve, he is sufficiently open-hearted "not to damn with faint praise" when occasion required censure, and we have to thank him sincerely for the fair and honest way he has faced his subject. Our paper must, necessarily, be a series of extracts, as we desire to give the cream of this straightforward German's remarks, and recommend him to our readers as one who has deserved well at our hands, and, not like other writers, stung the bosom that nursed him. With these preli * Dr. Gambihler, Gemälde von London. München, 1850. Zweite verbesserte Ausgabe. Sept.-VOL. XCIX. NO. CCCXCIII. H |