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Their religion is nominally the Mohammedan, but they blend with it the ceremonies of other beliefs. The sacred and revered sign of the Christians is profanely added to the monstrous and imbecile rites of Paganism. They are seen to prostrate themselves to a white sheep, to adore the sun, to place on the same tomb the cross and the turban, to pray to the ganinstag, to predict the future, to celebrate the Friday by invoking Mohammed, to abstain on Sunday from all servile employment, to keep fasts, and to invoke statues, not as representative signs, but as personal divinities. The confusion of their origin is illustrated by this fusing together of divers superstitions. Their manners are in conformity with their faith; under the pretext of liberty and independence, they indulge in whatever they have a fancy for one reflection only arrests them it is the fear of displeasing Russia; they speak of this power with the greatest respect, and pride themselves in praising her; but they are not the less turbulent and dangerous to visit.

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B. E. M. ARTIFICE OF A TROUBADOUR. NOTWITHSTANDING all that has been said and sung of the Troubadours of the Middle Ages, and the romances of La Motte Fouqué to boot, we have always been inclined to consider those gentle. men ballad singers as the greatest scamps of their time. The following story, related by Miss Costello, in her "Specimens of early French Poetry," is both ludicrous and characteristic.

Arnaud Daniel, when visiting the court of Richard Coeur de Lion in England, encountered there a jougleur, who defied him to a trial of skill, and boasted of being able to make more diffi cult rhymes than Arnaud, a proficiency on which he chiefly prided himself. He accepted the challenge, and the two poets separated, and retired to their respective chambers, to prepare for the contest. The muse of Arnaud was not propitious, and he vainly endeavoured to string two rhymes together. His rival, on the other hand, quickly caught the inspiration. The king had allowed ten days as the

*They recognise in the ganinstag a perfect man: it is he who kills the beasts offered in sacrifice. The ganinstag resides near a church containing the statues which no one is allowed to gaze upon; they must be satisfied with the pictures which the ganinstag gives them, and believe in the power he ascribes to them.

term of preparation; five for composition, and the remainder for learning it by heart to sing before the court. On the third day the jougleur declared that he had finished his poem, and was ready to recite it, but Arnaud replied that he had not yet thought of his. It was the jougleur's custom to repeat his verses out loud every day, in order to learn them better; and Arnaud, who was in vain endeavouring to devise some means to save himself from the mockery of the court at being outdone in this contest, happened to overhear the jougleur singing. He went to his door and listened, and succeeded in retaining the words and the air. On the day appointed they both appeared before the king. Arnaud desired to be allowed to sing first, and immediately gave the song which the jougleur had composed. The latter, stupified with astonishment, could only exclaim, It is my song, it is my song.' Impossible!' cried the king, but the jougleur persisting, requested Richard to interrogate Arnaud, who would not dare, he said, to deny it. Daniel confessed the fact, and related the manner in which the affair had been conducted, which amused Richard far more than the song itself. The stakes of the wager loaded them both with presents. were restored to each, and the king

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LEASEHOLD PROPERTY.

A certain party had obtained a piece of lease, from the municipal trustees of a land on a ninety-nine years' building small town in the west of England, to the great annoyance of Mr. F-, a wealthy man in the district, and of inhave put a veto on the negotiation, had fluence sufficiently preponderating to he taken care to have been on the alert at the suitable moment. Having only himself to blame for the vexation, he was, of course, supremely savage on the occasion.

A year or two afterwards, when the Mr. F. chancing to pass in front of it obnoxious building was just completed, foot energetically on the pavement, and with several friends, said, stamping his thundering out a deep-toned anathema at the same time,-" I'll take care they shan't renew the lease, however!" "Ha! ha! ha!" shouted his companions, in irrepressible merriment; and Mr. F. "ha! ha!-ed" along with them, for he thought they were laughing about a contingent re-lease :-and Mr. F. was right, for so they were.

B. E. M.

OF FICTION, POETRY, HISTORY, AND GENERAL LITERATURE.

No. 54.

SATURDAY, JULY 11, 1835. Price Two-Pence.

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DOCTOR ZEB was the most learned man of his day. His brain was the focus within which were concentrated the beams of the wisdom and intelligence of humanity. He knew so many things, that he was said to have found out the secrets of alchymy, and the elixir of immortal youth, although he lived in poverty all his life, and died in due season. For it was affirmed, that if Doctor Zeb did live in poverty all his days, it was because he well knew the incompetency of riches to procure happiness; and that, if he came to his end like other men, it was, because having acquired a perfect acquaintance with the things of this world, he was anxious to inform himself as to what was transacting in the other. This justly celebrated man was musing one day in solitude upon the sciences he had learned, and the mighty secrets he had discovered. Although in general as modest as sapient, a glow of

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not the humblest also his moments of pride? They are of short duration, of course, and are easily repressed by reason, as is but just.

Upon this occasion, Doctor Zeb raised his spirits to the most sublime speculations. He sought to penetrate into the mysteries of creation, and in the details of the magnificent work of a God, he was presumptuous enough to discover some inconsistencies. He ventured even to exclaim against the architect of the innumerable worlds: he was in particular offended with the mixture of perfections and defects, of greatness and of misery, observable in man. "Wherefore," said he, "did the Deity endow him with those unruly passions that torment him throughout the whole of his career, and which are the primary cause of all his errors and crimes? Why has he reduced him to such an extremity of misery and of suffering? Why has he subjected him to pains of the body and griefs of the soul? Ah! had I the gift of creation, certainly I think I should have created man somewhat more per

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fect; I should have essayed to produce beings completely happy." Scarcely had the doctor uttered these words, than suddenly an angel of light descended from heaven. The doctor, dazzled by the splendour, was unable to support the glory of this messenger from the Most High; as he prostrated himself with his face to the earth, the minister of the Deity thus addressed him : "The Creator of the universe has read the thoughts of thy heart; he acknowledges the depth and extent of thy learning, and makes thee a participator in the glory of creation." At these words, the angel took the wise man in his arms, and, with the rapidity of lightning, bore him above to the unknown regions. In a single minute, they had reached a distance of more than a million of miles from the earth, and the doctor found himself transported to a planet, of which no astronomer had at that day any acquaintance, for it had just been created by the fiat of him, who said "Let there be light. The sage cast around him a glance of mingled wonder and admiration. "What new world is this?" said he. "Is it a dream that is presented to my imagination, and will it vanish as a dream?" “No,” replied the angel, "this world is a reality. God has just created it for thee, upon the single condition that thou shalt people it; for as yet it is uninhabited. God endows thee now, and for fifteen days, with the power of creating beings similar to those thou hast seen on earth; but he requires of thee that these beings shall be more perfect and happier. Animate, then, the dust lying at thy feet; let the rocks take a human form; give them a soul; for thy breath shall endow them with the ever-active spirit. But I repeat, the beings who shall awake to life at thy voice, must be more perfect and happier than those who people the earth. With out this, dread the judgments of a Deity, offended with thy weak presumption.' At these words, the angel disappeared, to rejoin the celestial choir encircling the throne of the Eternal.

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Doctor Zeb had been overtaken in an hour of vain glory. The important part he was about to fill, was by no means calculated to restore his humility. What an eventful mission! To become the creator of a new race of beings, of a new order of society! What! by a single word, a breath, a mere will, to give movement and life to matter; to endow it with a soul, with reason, thought, and sentiment ! What a mighty destiny!

He had whereof to be proud! Having well commented upon the words of the angel, the doctor said, "Behold me, then, the master to create men according to my fancy. Let us look about, and reflect a little, before we engage in this mighty undertaking. The threats of the angel do not alarm me. However, I may as well consider a little what path I shall pursue;" and he fell into profound meditation.

"I am decided upon making my creatures social beings. It is only in society that the genius enlarges and developes itself. Without society, talent and virtue would be useless treasures. Were I to create man for solitude, I must make him of moody and concentrated temper. Gaiety, the mother of pleasure, would be banished from the world I am to people. Man derives his happiness both from within and from without: from without, by availing himself of the industry and virtues of his fellows; from within, when he does good; and how can one do good who is alone? Since I desire my creatures to be happy, they must of necessity live in society.

"For the attainment of happiness, I would not have the inhabitants of my planet experience any bodily pain; their constitution must be proof against the evils that afflict humanity on earth. A reflection, however, arrests me. If man be insensible to grief, how can he be sensible to pleasure? Pleasure and pain both result from the delicacy and sensibility of our organs. By destroying the source of pain, I shall also destroy the source of pleasure. Instead of creating a happy being, I shall create a mere automaton. This is more embarrassing than I should at first have supposed it to be.

"But if I cannot spare my creatures experience of physical evil, I may, perhaps, at least prevent their suffering moral evil. The joy and the grief of the heart are superior to that of the senses. I will endow them, then, with every mental delight; with every affection that goes to constitute happiness; carefully removing from them whatever may impair or destroy it: this is easy enough.'

Here the doctor made a second pause; and resting his forehead on his hands, relapsed into the deepest meditation.

"But," said he, "if I endow the beings of my creation with the various delights of the soul, there seems a difficulty in guarding them effectually from its pains. No joy can be felt keenly, unless it have

been ardently desired. If the beings of my creation are to be creatures of anticipation, their desires must be a mixture of hope and fear: hence their equanimity may be disturbed; and if they cannot attain the desired good, they will be in reality unhappy. If they obtain what they have longed for, they will wish to preserve the object of their delight; and should they lose it, how can they be defended from regret? If they have no regret, it will be evident they have experienced no delight. Well! let us make them frivolous, changeable, and careless! their pains will be less, and their griefs will be speedily forgotten. Yes! but in that case, they will be unmeet for happiness; they will be dead to enjoyment. In reality there are difficulties to reconcile; but let us consider a little

more.

"The men whom I am to create will then, as the inhabitants of the earth, be subject to pain, to afflictions of the body, and griefs of the soul, since I cannot do otherwise even for their happiness. But at least, as they are to live in society, they shall possess every virtue. Vice shall have no entrance into my planet; neither pride, egotism, nor avarice, shall penetrate there. Neither misers, nor dupes, nor rogues, nor ambitious, shall be seen there. I will have none of those men who live upon the blood and tears of nations, who owe their rise to their crimes; who fancy themselves great, because they make the weak tremble, and who reward the adulation of the flatterer with the spoils of virtue. I wish to prevent those fatal wars in which the poor children of Adam engage, often for they know not what. The inhabitants of my planet shall only have the gentler affections and sentiments: from passions they shall be exempt; for passions are alone the cause of all the errors and crimes of humanity.

"To be without passions! It must, however, be conceded, that they impart great energy to the soul; that they open the mind largely, and endow man with incredible boldness, who would undertake nothing without them, and who braves every danger for their indulgence. If my creatures have no passions, they will undertake nothing great; they will see inconveniences, obstacles, and perils, in whatever they may wish to execute. I should produce mediocre beings, who would merely vegetate. There would be no animation in society; and it would never attain to that height of grandeur and splendour to which I should desire

to see it eventually carried. The passions must then inevitably be admitted.

"But it is necessary that my creatures should not have all the same passions; for never would they live in peace. If they be all of the same disposition, they would all wish to attempt the same things, and be continually crossing each others' path; would hurt each other in the execution of the same schemes. Friendship would not exist in my planet; and eternal rivalry would spring up from the violent animosities. Why is it that persons, whose dispositions offer the greatest contrasts, are better friends than persons who resemble each other in mental characteristics? Is it not precisely because the difference in their tempers destroys in them the spirit of rivalry, and consequently the germ of hatred and discord? Now when two individuals have no reason to hate each other, it is difficult to avoid finding some cause to love each other, if any favourable circumstance bring them together.

"The dwellers on my planet shall then be endowed with different passions, since I cannot avoid giving them some. But if I divide amongst them the very limited number of passions human nature is capable of experiencing, it is necessary that my creatures have passions of various gradations; for there would still be too great an affinity between men's dispositions, which can only be indefinitely modified by shading the passions. Amongst the many millions with whom my planet is to be peopled, there must then be found every perceptible shade of the few passions of which my nature enables me to form an idea. The variety of character, then, will be in proportion to the shades existing in the passions; for it is to me evident, that this variety is necessary to the perfection and completion of my work.

"But then, how can I prevent vices from creeping into my planet? I wish to remove there from cupidity; but is not cupidity a shade of the love of conservation? I would exclude dupes and rogues, yet at the same time would create goodnatured, generous, and ingenuous men ; then how can I prevent the introduction of dupes and rogues into a world where kindness, confidence, and generosity, encounter cupidity on their path? I would exclude pride; but pride is a shade of self-love, a motive excellent in itself, and absolutely necessary to self-preservation. I would exclude ambition; this is easy enough to say, but is not ambition a modification of pride? In creating pride, I give rise to ambition. Well, I

will manage matters so that my creatures shall count wealth, and honour, and power as nothing. Fine reasoning! Their pride will be diverted to other objects: they will find some other ambition, and kill one another for something else but I query if they will find any thing better!

"So then, I am unable to give the inhabitants of my planet other character than that of the dwellers on the earth? My new community, too, is to be then a compound of vices and virtues: meanness and grandeur, pride and modesty, roguery and good faith, will be found amongst them, as amongst the children of Adam. I am compelled, for the accomplishment of my work, to make use of good and evil, as a skilful artist employs two opposite colours to vary the tints of his picture.

"Well! if, however, I cannot make my creatures more perfect than the inhabitants of the earth, at least I can endow them with loftier and more extended talents, a healthier judgment, a more fertile and varied imagination; in short, with great aptness for the arts and sciences. I shall then have formed happier beings, since they will have attained a higher degree of perfection. But this calls for reflection. Let us inquire into the measure of the genius, and extent of the knowledge, to which they are to attain? Shall I give them such a fitness for science, as to enable them to acquire, without difficulty, all that God has hidden from the penetration of the children of Adam? No! for as soon as they shall have learnt every thing, there will be no longer any food for their genius; it will be of no utility to them, but they will languish away into death-like torpor. Many secrets of nature must then be hidden from my creatures. They must know precisely what is requisite to their happiness, and must endeavour to understand the rest. But, this is, I think, the exact bounds which the Creator has set to human intellect. The dwellers on my planet shall have, then, a sounder judgment; shall see things clearer; shall be better able to rate them at their due value.

But no: this is false reasoning. Since they will have the same passions as the children of Adam, they will see, like them, objects through the medium of their passions, and will not read them clearer. "Well! I will make it up to them in the imagination. I will give them the most exquisite sense of the beautiful art: they shall have greater painters, greater poets. But what do I say? Art is

but the imitation of nature; it can only give the representation of natural objects. The perfection of imitation depends eminently upon the manner of feeling. The children of Adam may one day attain to this perfection, when their works shall be in complete harmony with their sentiments and sensations.

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"So then, the inhabitants of my planet are condemned to the same measure of intellect, genius, and imagination, as the inhabitants of the earth. This is rather sad; for the brilliant powers of which the latter make such a parade, are reduced with them to a very small matter. have one consolation, however, that in my planet there will be no fools. All my creatures shall be gifted with sense. I do not perceive of what utility fools are to the earth, nor why it is that they are to be found there in such abundance!

"Fools!" he continued, "alas! there must, though, be some upon my planet. Shall I endow each of my creatures with an intellect of the same extent? Shall they each be gifted with the same power of reasoning? If all the dwellers upon this new world have the same reach of mind, talent will soon cease to be of value. All emulation will be destroyed. The varieties in dispositions being infinite, they must be infinite also in minds. My work, to be complete, must combine every gradation of intellect, from talent to imbecility inclusive, as it must likewise include all varieties existing between good and evil; and, since the inhabitants of my planet cannot possibly be of greater genius than those of the earth, the fools I must of necessity create, will consequently be as foolish as those of the globe on which I was born.

"Well! I will at least contrive it so that my fools shall do justice to themselves! I will make it up to them in modesty. None shall ever be seen here to attempt anything above their capacity. Men destitute of talent or parts, shall not deluge the world with their numberless wretched books, and miserable systems of politics, morals, &c.; nor men without imagination, affect to be poets and novelists; nor mere daubers assume the title of painters. I shall keep up good order in all departments, and each shall confine himself to the place assigned to him. Vain project! All this doubtless might be brought about, if I could banish vanity from my planet. But it must necessarily exist there, as a shade of self-love. How then can I prevent it from infusing itself into the feelings of

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