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novels by observing the success of Miss Edgeworth in availing herself of the peculiarities of Irish manners; and there can be no doubt that his success in intermingling civilized English personages. among the wild creatures of the Highlands, in such pieces as Waverley,' and Rob Roy,' has been the source of all that is really good in the romances of Mr. Cooper, and the stimulating guide of Mr. Morier in his Zohrab,' but even more conspicu-, ously in the novel which we have named at the top of this article'Ayesha, the Maid of Kars.'

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A young English nobleman, Lord Osmond, is travelling in the Turkish provinces, attended by a kidnapped Swiss turned into a Tartar courier, and a supple Greek, his valet. In the remote. inland town of Kars, he sees and falls in love with Ayesha, the angelic daughter, as is supposed, of Soleiman Aga, a wealthy and; phlegmatic old Turk, and Zabetta his wife, a daring intriguante. from Tenedos, who has long since conformed to the religion of her lord.

In the progress of the story, Osmond's audacity in attempting. to gain the affections of the lovely Turkish maiden excites the jealous indignation of the authorities of Kars, and thus a series: of highly interesting perplexities and persecutions, dangers and escapes, is naturally enough introduced. The lover is rescued from the prison of the Pacha of Kars by the address of a Khurdish freebooter, to whom he had on a former occasion rendered an important service. This man conducts him to the castle of his captain, Cara Bey, a savage chief whose name inspires terror all over the Armenian frontier between the Turkish and the Russian territories. This robber-chief, on learning the nature of the offence which had consigned Osmond to the pacha's dungeon, is fired with the reported charms of Ayesha, and, having shut up the Englishman in one of his own oubliettes, he makes a midnight foray upon Kars, and succeeds in carrying off the damsel. Osmond, meanwhile, forms a friendship in his new prison with a young Russian, belonging to a regiment stationed on the neighbouring frontier; and they contrive to open a communication with the Muscovite commander-which ends in his being admitted. into the Castle of Cara Bey, the seizure of the gang, and the emancipation of all the captives.

In the third volume, the scene passes to the Euxine-to Constantinople-to Rhodes; and the dénouement gives the discovery that Ayesha is no Turkish maiden, but the daughter of an English gentleman of rank, who had spent some years in travelling about the Levant-her conversion to Christianity-and her happy union with Lord Osmond.

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We merely run over these names and leading features of the narrative,

narrative, to show that the author has taken a canvass wide enough to admit of a more extensive group of contrasts than he had ventured upon in the admirable novel of Zohrab; and we have every reason to congratulate him on the manner in which he filled up his outline. We have Turkish manners, in all their varieties-from the majestic Padishah himself down to the obscure Dogberries of a sequestered village-their wives, and slaves: we have some lively specimens of the Greek character; we have, in Cara Bey and his gang, a crew of ferocious outlaws, devil-worshippers, equally abhorring and abhorred by Mussulman and Christian; we have, finally, all these Orientals in immediate collision with Russians-and, throughout, with a perfect English gentleman. It must be allowed that here is ample room and verge enough for the picturesque; and the bold and dashing vigour of the execution lends itself with equal ease to all the multifarious objects of delineation.

We need say nothing about the grand improbabilities of the fable, but giving him them once for all, the rest goes smoothly. A more animated and exciting story could hardly be conceived; and there runs through the whole of it, in the character of Ayesha herself, a strain of pure genial tenderness of conception, such as might be envied by any poet that ever wrote

• Making a brightness in the shady place.'

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At this time, when the Ottoman empire is so obviously on the verge of dissolution, a work portraying, with the graphic vigour of thorough knowledge, the manners and habits of Turks of many dif ferent classes, possesses a claim to far more attention than usually belongs to even the cleverest of novels. We have no doubt that Ayesha will do more to inform the public mind respecting this strange but most picturesque people, than even our author could have effected by a book of travels. Mr. Morier spent much of the earlier period of his life in the Turkish dominions, and his' representations of Ottoman modes of thought and feeling have that nameless quality, which at once conveys to every mind the conviction that they are not only interesting, but true. To combine such a variety of materials into a harmonious picture of life and love, is to be a man of genius; and with genius, Mr. Morier unites the-in these days hardly rarer-quality of a classical taste.' A manly and generous mind shines through all his pages; and his language has an easy idiomatic elasticity about it, which, as well as the lightness of his humour and the simplicity of his pathos, has often reminded us of Oliver Goldsmith.

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We are perhaps not more called upon for extracts from such a work as this than in the case of Helen;' but two or three passages, which may be detached from the narrative of the second

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volume, without at all interfering with the interest of the novel, present a temptation which we are not disposed to resist. The scene in which Lord Osmond's baggage is overhauled by the dignitaries of Kars is one of these: it is in the happiest vein of the Hajji Baba in England :'

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'First, the contents of the portmanteau were exhibited. cession were displayed waistcoats, neckcloths, shirts, drawers, and stockings, which drew forth the astonishment of all present, for they wondered what one man could possibly want with so many things, the uses of most of which were to them incomprehensible. They admired the glittering beauties of a splendid uniform-jacket, which its owner carried about to wear on appearing at courts and in the presence of exalted personages; but when they came to inspect a pair of leather pantaloons, the ingenuity of the most learned amongst, them could not devise for what purpose they could possibly be used. For let it be known, that a Turk's trowsers, when extended, look like the largest of sacks used by millers, with a hole at each corner for the insertion of the legs. Will it, then, be thought extraordinary that the comprehension of the present company was at fault as to the pantaloons? They were turned about in all directions, inside and out, before and behind. The mufti submitted that they might perhaps be an article of dress, and he called upon a bearded chokhadar, who stood by wrapped in doubt and astonishment, to try them on. The view which the mufti took of them was, that they were to be worn as a head-dress, and accordingly, that part which tailors call the seat was fitted over the turban of the chokhadar, whilst the legs fell in serpent-like folds down the grave man's back and shoulders, making him look like Hercules with the lion's skin thrown over his head. Barikallah-praise be to Allah!" said the mufti, "I have found it: perhaps this is the dress of an English pacha of two tails!" "Aferin well done!" cried all the adherents of the law. But the, pacha was of another opinion; he viewed the pantaloons in a totally, different light, inspecting them with the eye of one who thought upon the good things of which he was fond. "For what else can this be used," exclaimed the chief, his dull eye brightening up as he spoke→→→ "what else, but for wine? This is perhaps the skin of some European animal. Franks drink wine, and they carry their wine about, in skins, as our own infidels do. Is it not so?" said he, addressing himself to Bogos the Armenian. "So it is," answered the dyer, "it is even as your highness has commanded."-" Well then, this skin. has contained wine," continued the pacha, pleased with the discovery, " and, by the blessing of Allah! it shall serve us again."-" Here," said he to one of his servants," here, take this, let the saka sew up the holes, and let it be well filled: instead of wine, it shall hold. water." And, true enough, in a few days after, the pantaloons were seen parading the town on a water-carrier's back, doing the duty of mesheks. But it was secretly reported, that not long after they were

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converted to the use for which the pacha intended them, and actually, were appointed for the conveyance of his highness's favourite wine.

In the lid of the portmanteau was discovered a boot-jack, with a pair of steel boot-hooks. These articles put the ingenuity of the Turks to a still greater test. How could they possibly devise that so complicated a piece of machinery could, by any stretch of imagina-' tion, have anything in common with a pair of boots, a part of dress which they pull off and on with as much ease as one inserts and re-› inserts a mop into a bucket? They thought it might have something: to do with necromancy, then with astrology, but at length it struck them that the whole machine must be one for the purposes of torture; -what more convenient than the hinges for squeezing the thumb or, cracking the finger joints-what better adapted than the boot-hooks: for scooping out eyes? Such they decided it to be; and, in order to confirm the conclusion beyond a doubt, the pacha ordered his favourite scribe to insert his finger between the hinges of the boot-jack, which having done with repugnance, he was rewarded for his complaisance. by as efficacious a pinch as he could wish, whilst peals of laughter went round at his expense. The instrument was then made over to the chief executioner, with orders to keep it in readiness upon the first occasion.

The various contents of the dressing-case were next brought under examination. Every one was on the look-out for something agreeable to the palate, the moment they saw the numerous bottles: with which it was studded. One tasted eau-de-Cologne-another lavender-water; both which they thought might or might not be Frank luxuries in the way of cordials. But who can describe the face which was made by the pacha himself, when, attracted by the brilliancy of the colour, he tossed off to his own drinking the greater part of a bottle of tincture of myrrh! The mufti was a man who never laughed, but even he, on seeing the contortions of his colleague, could not suppress his merriment; whilst the menials around were obliged to look down, their feet reminding them of the countenance they ought to keep, if they hoped to keep themselves free from the stick.

• Whilst this was taking place, the iman of the mosque, whose mortified looks belied his love of good things, quietly abstracted from the case a silver-mounted box, which having opened, he there discovered a paste-like substance, the smell of which he thought was too inviting to resist; he therefore inserted therein the end of his forefinger, and, scooping out as much as it could carry, straightway opened wide his mouth and received it with a smack. Soon was he visited by repentance-he would have roared with nausea, had he not been afraid of exposing himself-he sputtered-he spat. "What has happened?" said one, with a grin. "Bak-see!" roared the pacha, who was delighted to have found a fellow-sufferer" Bak-see! the iman is sick." The nature of the substance which he had gulped soon discovered itself by the white foam which was seen to issue from his

mouth :

mouth then other feelings pervaded the assembly-they appre'hended a fit-they feared madness; in short, such was the state to which the unfortunate priest was reduced, that he was obliged to 'make a rapid escape from the assembly, every one making way for him, as one who is not to be touched. The reader need not be informed that he had swallowed a large dose of Naples soap.

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Many were the mistakes which occurred besides those abovementioned, and which it would perhaps be tedious or trifling to enumerate. They pondered deeply over every article; they turned the books upside down, they spilt the mercury from the artificial horizon, broke the thermometers, displaced the barometer, scattered the mathematical instruments about, so that they never could be reinserted in the case. A small ivory box attracted their attention: it was so prettily turned, so neat, and so ornamental, that, like children quarrelling for a toy, each of them longed to possess it. At length it was ceded to the mufti. This sapient personage had enjoyed the pleasure of laughing at others, but as yet had not been laughed at himself. Twisting the box in all directions, at length he unscrewed it, much to his satisfaction, and seeing a small tube within, surrounded by a bundle of diminutive sticks, he concluded this must be the Frank's inkstand-the liquid in the tube being the ink, the sticks the pens. He was not long in inserting one of the sticks into the tube; he drew it out-and instantaneous light burst forth. Who can describe the terror of the Turk? He threw the whole from him, as if he had discovered that he had been dandling the 'Shaitan in person. "Ai Allah!" he exclaimed, with eyes starting ́from his head, his mouth open, his hands clinging to the cushions, his whole body thrown back:-"Allah, protect me! Allah, Allah, there is but one Allah!" he exclaimed in terror, looking at the little box and the little sticks, strewn on the ground before him, with an expression of fear that sufficiently spoke his apprehension that it contained some devilry, which might burst out and overwhelm him with destruction. Nor were the surrounding Turks slow in catching his feelings; they had seen the ignition, and had partaken of the shock. Every one drew back from the box and its contents, and made a circle round it; looking at it in silence, and waiting the result with terror, -low "Allah, Allahs!" broke from the audience, and few were inclined to laugh. At length, seeing that it remained stationary, the ludicrous situation of the mufti began to draw attention, and as he was an object of general dislike, every one, who could do so with safety, indulged in laughing at him. The grave Suleiman, who had seen more of Franks than the others, at length ventured to take up the box, though with great wariness: he was entreated, in the name of the Prophet! to put it down again by the pacha, who then ordered Bogos, the Armenian, to take up the whole machine, sticks and all, and at his peril instantly to go and throw it into the river: swearing, by the Koran and by all the imans, that if the devil ever appeared amongst them again, he would put not only him but every Armenian and Christian in Kars to death. • There

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