108. A man had better die than lose his good name. 109. A nightingale was put in a golden cage ;—“ O for my home" she said!

110. Be my enemy far from me, he may live a thousand years.

III. To day's egg is better than to-morrow's hen. 112. One affliction is worth a thousand exhortations. 113. The Sultan's interdict lasts three days. 114. He neither fears God nor knows Turkish. 115. Just like trusting a cat with a piece of liver! 116. To a lazy man every day is a holiday.

117. Don't fall into the fire to be saved from the smoke.

118. Bagdad is not remote for a lover. 119. He that gives quickly gives double.

120. It is the cat and dog that go where they are not called.

121. Of lawful wealth Satan takes the half; of unlawful wealth, the whole and the owner too. 122. He who accomplishes his ends by deceit shall render up his soul with anguish.

123. A traitor is a coward.

133. The kick of a camel is soft, but stunning. 134. Why is your neck crooked, was asked of the

camel. What have I that is straight? he said. 135. The female bird builds the nest. 136. The tongue kills quicker than the sword. 137. He steals money from the beggar's dish. 138. No road is long with good company.

139. If the time don't suit you, suit yourself to the time.

140. Beauty comes not by forcing.

141. Unless you wish to have your enemy to know your secret, tell it not to your friend. 142. We eat and drink at your house, and laugh and play at mine!

143. His tongue has never had fever and ague. 144, Let me cook you an egg,-but the egg is at the vineyard and the vineyard is on the mountain; 'obaghda, bagh da daghda."

152. If to speak be silver, to be silent is gold. 153. For a poet, even a rush may be vocal. 154. It does not thunder till the lightning has struck. 155. They say fame is a calamity-take care! 156. The sheikh's miracles are those of his own telling.

157. Satan's friendship reaches to the prison door. 158. To the well man every day is a feast-day. 159. Patience is bitter, but its end is yellow gold. 160. Patience is the key of paradise.

161. Even the hen, when it drinks water, looks towards heaven.

162. A true word needs no oath,

163. The prayer of the stranger is accepted. 164. God makes the nest of the strange bird. 165. Usage is preferable to purism (a translation of the sense, not literal.)

166. Profit is loss, brother.

167. The worth of good is not known but by experience of evil.

168. The fish that escapes is a big one.

169. Women have long hair, but short intellect. 170. You should believe one word in forty that a woman speaks.

171. He esteems the crow and the nightingale alike. 172. Don't say amen to an unacceptable prayer.

Besides the Proverbs there are a great number of fables circulating among the people, very much like the proverbs in their character. Two or three examples of these are here given:

1. A feeble horse, staggering under his load, begged a strong mule, his companion, to relieve him of part of his burden. But the mule would not listen, saying it was as much as he could do to carry his own load. Not long after, the poor horse fell and died by the roadside. The master then compelled the mule, in addition to his own load, to carry both the load and the skin of the dead horse.

2. An ostrich (in Turkish, camel-bird) came to the encampment of a caravan at evening and begged to be fed with the camels, as he also is a camel. "Very well," said the camel-driver, and gave him his portion. In the morning the man called the camel-bird with the camels, to take his load. “No! no! said the ostrich, "I'm a bird, I can't carry a load."

3. A camel, in winter, came to the window of a mill, and begged the miller to be allowed to put his nose in at the window to warm it. "Very well," said the kind-hearted miller. So the camel put his nose in and presently his whole head, and it was not long before he managed to get in also his fore-feet, and by and by his whole body, when he lay down comfortably on the floor of the mill. The miller soon became annoyed by the smell of the dirty beast, and intimated to him that he had abused his privilege and must go out. “Thank you," said the camel, "I'm comfortable: if you are annoyed, you are welcome to go outside."

THE LAST SCENE.

A WEEK before Christinas day, 1870, the little town of Genoa, in the State of New York, exhibited, perhaps more strongly than at any other time, the bitter irony of its founders and sponsors. A driving snow-storm that had whitened every windward hedge, bush, wall and telegraph pole, played around this soft Italian capital, whirled in and out of the great staring wooden Doric columns of its post-office and hotel, beat upon the cold green shutters of its best houses, and powdered the angular, stiff, dark figures in its streets. From the level of the street the four principal churches of the town stood out

starkly, even while their misshapen spires were kindly hidden in the low driving storm. Near the railroad station the new Methodist chapel, whose resemblance to an enormous locomotive was further heightened by the addition of a pyramidal row of front steps, like a cowcatcher, stood as if waiting for a few more houses to be hitched on to proceed to a pleas anter location. But the pride of Genoa - the great Crammer Institute for Young Ladies stretched its bare brick length and reared its cupola plainly from the bleak Parnassian hill above the principal avenue. There was no evasion in the Crammer Institute of the fact that it was a public institution. A visitor upon its doorstep, a pretty face at its window, were clearly visible all over the township.

The shriek of the engine of the 4 o'clock Northern express brought but few of the usual loungers to the depot Only a single passenger alighted and was driven away in the solitary waiting sleigh toward the Genoa Hotel. And then the train sped away again-with that passionless indifference to human sympathies or curiosity peculiar to express trains-the one baggage truck was wheeled into the station again, the station door was locked and the station master went home.

The locomotive whistle however awakened the guilty consciousness of three young ladies of the Crammer Institute who were even then surreptitiously regaling themselves in the bake-shop and confectionery saloon of Mistress Phillips in a by-lane. For even the admirable regulations of the Institute failed

to entirely develop the physical and moral natures of its pupils; they conformed to the excellent dietary rules in public, and in private drew upon the luxurious rations of their village caterer; they attended church with exemplary formality and flirted informally during service with the village beaux ; they received the best and most judicious instruction during school hours, and devoured the trashiest novels during recess. The result of which was an aggregation of quite healthy, quite human and very charming young creatures, that reflected infinite credit on the Institute. Even Mistress Phillips, to whom they owed vast sums, exhilarated by the exuberant spirits and youthful freshness of her guests, declared that the sight of "them young things" did her good, and had even been known to shield them by shameless equivocation.

"Four o'clock girls, and if we're not back to prayers by five we'll be missed," said the tallest of these foolish virgins, with an aquiline nose and certain quiet élan that bespoke the leader, as she rose from her seat. "Have you got the books, Addy ?" Addy displayed three dissipated-looking novels under her waterproof. "And the provisions, Carrie?” Carrie showed a suspicious parcel filling the pocket of her sack. "All right then. Come girls, trudge. Charge it," she added, nodding to her host, as they passed toward the door. "I'll pay you when ny quarter's allowance comes."

66

"No, Kate," interposed Carrie, producing her purse, "let me pay-it's my turn."

"Never," said Kate, arching her black brows loftily-"even if you do have rich relatives and regular remittances from California. Never. Come, girls-forward, march!"

As they opened the door a gust of wind nearly took them off their feet. Kind-hearted Mrs. Phillips was alarmed. "Sakes alive! galls, ye mussn't go out in sich weather; better let me send word to the Institoot and make ye up a nice bed to-night in my parlor." But the last sentence was lost in a chorus of halfsuppressed shrieks as the girls, hand in hand, ran down the steps into the storm and were at once whirled away.

The short December day, unlit by any sunset glow, was failing fast. It was quite dark already, and the air was thick with driving snow. For some distance their high spirits, youth, and even inexperience kept them bravely up, but in ambitiously attempting a short cut from the high road across an open field their strength gave out, the laugh grew less frequent and tears began to stand in Carrie's brown eyes. When they reached the

road again they were utterly exhausted. "Let us go back," said Carrie.

"We'd never get across that field again," said Addy.

"Let's stop at the first house, then," said Carrie.

"The first house," said Addy, peering through the gathering darkness, "is Squire Robinson's." She darted a mischievous glance at Carrie that even in her discomfort and fear brought the quick blood to her cheek.

"O yes," said Kate, with gloomy irony, "certainly, stop at the Squire's by all means. and be invited to tea, and be driven home after tea by your dear friend Mr. Harry, with a formal apology from Mrs. Robinson, and hopes that the young ladies may be excused this time. No," continued Kate, with sudden energy, "that may suit you-but I'm going back as I came by the window-or not at all." Then she pounced suddenly, like a hawk, on Carrie, who was betraying a tendency to sit down on a snow-bank and whimper, and shook her briskly. "You'll be going to sleep next. Stay,-hold your tongues, all of youwhat's that?"

It was the sound of sleigh-bells. Coming down toward them out of the darkness was a sleigh with a single occupant. "Hold down your heads, girls, if it's anybody that knows us-we're lost." But it was not, for a voice strange to their ears, but withal very kindly and pleasant, asked if its owner could be of any help to them. As they turned toward him they saw it was a man wrapped in a handsome sealskin cloak, wearing a sealskin cap-his face, half concealed by a muffler of the same material, disclosing only a pair of long moustaches and two keen dark eyes. "It's a son of old Santa Claus," whispered Addie. The girls tittered audibly as they tumbled into the sleigh-they had regained their former spirits. "Where shall I take you?" said the stranger, quietly. There was a hurried whispering, and then Kate said boldly, "To the Institute." silently up the hill until the long ascetic building loomed up before them. The stranger reined up suddenly. "You know the way better than I," he said; "where do you go in ?"-"Through the back window," said Kate, with sudden and appalling frankness. "I see!" responded their strange driver quietly, and alighting quickly, removed the bells. from the horses. "We can drive as near as you please now," he added by way of explanation. "He certainly is a son of Santa Claus," whispered Addie; "hadn't we better ask after

They drove

his father ?"--"Hush," said Kate, decidedly. "He is an angel, I dare say." She added, with a delicious irrelevance, which was however perfectly understood by her feminine auditors. "We are looking like three frights!"

Cautiously skirting the fences, they at last pulled up a few feet from a dark wall. The stranger proceeded to assist them to alight. There was still some light from the reflected snow, and as he handed his fair companions to the ground each was conscious of undergoing an intense though respectful scrutiny. He assisted them gravely to open the window, and then discreetly retired to the sleigh until the difficult and somewhat discomposing ingress was made. He then walked to the window. "Thank you and good night" whispered three voices. A single figure still lingered. The stranger leaned over the window-sill. 66 Will you permit me to light my cigar here? it might attract attention if I struck a match outside." By the upspringing light he saw the figure of Kate very charmingly framed in by the window. The match burnt slowly out in his fingers. Kate smiled mischievously. The astute young woman had detected the pitiable subterfuge. For what else did she stand at the head of her class, and had doting parents paid three years' tuition?

The storm had past, and the sun was shining quite cheerily in the eastern recitationroom the next morning, when Miss Kate, whose seat was nearest the window, placing her hand pathetically upon her heart, affected to fall in bashful and extreme agitation upon the shoulder of Carrie her neighbor. "He has come," she gasped in a thrilling whisper. "Who?" asked Carrie sympathetically, who never clearly understood when Kate was in earnest. "Who?-why the man who rescued us last night! I saw him drive to the door this moment. Don't speak-I shall be better in a moment, there!" she said, and the shameless hypocrite passed her hand pathetically across her forehead with a tragic air.

"What can he want?" asked Carrie, whose curiosity was excited.

"I don't know," said Kate, suddenly relapsing into gloomy cynicism. "Possibly to "Possibly to put his five daughters to school. Perhaps to finish his young wife and warn her against US."

"He didn't look old, and he didn't seem like a married man," rejoined Addie thoughtfully. "That was his art, you poor creature!"

returned Kate scornfully; "you can never tell anything of these men-they are so deceitful. Besides, it's just my fate!" "Why Kate," began Carrie, in serious con

cern.

"Hush, Miss Walker is saying something," said Kate laughing.

"The young ladies will please give attention," said a slow perfunctory voice. "Miss Carrie Tretherick is wanted in the parlor."

Meantime Mr. Jack Prince, the name given on the card and various letters and credentials submitted to the Rev. Mr. Crammer, paced the somewhat severe apartment known publicly as the "Reception Parlor," and privately to the pupils as "Purgatory." His keen eyes had taken in the various rigid details, from the flat steam "Radiator" like an enormous japanned soda-cracker that heated one end of the room, to the monumental bust of Dr. Crammer that hopelessly chilled the other; from the Lord's Prayer, executed by a former writing-master in such gratuitous varie ty of elegant calligraphic trifling as to considerably abate the serious value of the composition, to three views of Genoa from the Institute, which nobody ever recognized, taken on the spot by the drawing teacher; from two illuminated texts of Scripture in an English letter, so gratuitously and hideously remote as to chill all human interest, to a large photograph of the senior class, in which the prettiest girls were Ethiopian in complexion, and sat (apparently) on each other's heads and shoulders :-his fingers had turned listlessly the leaves of school catalogues, the sermons of Dr. Crammer, the poems of Henry Kirke White, the Lays of the Sanctuary and Lives of Celebrated Women;-his fancy, and it was a nervously active one, had gone over the partings and greetings that must have taken place here, and wondered why the apartment had yet caught so little of the flavor of humanity;—indeed, I am afraid he had almost forgotten the object of his visit when the door opened and Carrie Tretherick stood before him.

It was one of those faces he had seen the night before,―prettier even than it had seemed then,--and yet I think he was conscious of some disappointment, without knowing ex actly why. actly why. Her abundant waving hair was of a guinea-golden tint, her complexion of a peculiar flower-like delicacy, her brown eyes of the color of sea-weed in deep water. It certainly was not her beauty that disappointed him.

Without possessing his sensitiveness to impression, Carrie was, on her part, quite as