"Accursed pantofles, will you never cease persecuting the wretched Casem?" So saying, he took a spade, and went into his garden to bury them. It so happened that one of his neighbours was looking out of the window at the time; and seeing Casem poking about the earth in his garden, he ran to the cadi, and told him that his old friend had discovered a treasure. Nothing more was requisite to excite the cupidity of the judge. He allowed the miser to aver, as loudly as he pleased, that he was burying his slippers, and had found no treasure, but at the same time demanded the treasure he had found. Casem talked to no purpose. Wearied out at last with his own asseverations, he paid the money, and departed, cursing the very souls of the pantofles. Determined to get rid of these unhappy movables, our hero walked to some distance from the city, and threw them into a reservoir, hoping he had now fairly seen the last of them; but the devil, not yet tired of tormenting him, guided the pantofles precisely to the mouth of the conduit. From this point they were carried along into the city, and sticking at the mouth of the aqueduct, they stopped it up, and prevented the water from flowing into the basin. The overseers of the city fountains, seeing that the water had stopped, immediately set about repairing the damage; and at length dragged into the face of day the old reprobate slippers, which they immediately took to the cadi, complaining loudly of the damage they had caused. The unfortunate proprietor was now condemned to pay a fine still heavier than before: but far was he from having the luck of seeing his chattels detained. The cadi, having delivered the sentence, said, like a conscientious magistrate, that he had no power of retaining other people's property, upon which the slippers, with much solemnity, were faithfully returned to their distracted master. He carried them home with him; and meditating as he went, and as well as he was able to meditate, how he should destroy them; at length he determined upon committing them to the flames. cordingly tried to do so, but they were too wet; so he put them on a terrace to dry. But the devil, as aforesaid, had reserved a still more cruel accident than any before: for a dog, whose master lived hard by, seeing these strange wild fowl of a pair of shoes, jumped from one terrace to the other, till he came to the miser's, and began to play with one of them; in his sport he dropped it over the balustrade, and it fell, heavy with hobnails and the accumulated He ac guilt of years, on the tender head of an infant, and killed him on the spot. The parents went straight to the cadi and complained that they had found their child dead, and Casem's pantofle lying by it, upon which the judge condemned him to pay a very heavy fine. Casem returned home, and taking the pantofles, went back to the cadi, crying out with an enthusiasm that convulsed everybody, "Behold! behold! See here the fatal cause of all the sufferings of Casem, these accursed pantofles, which have at length brought ruin upon his head. My lord cadi, be so merciful, I pray you, as to give an edict that may free me from all imputation of accident which these slippers henceforth may occasion, as they certainly will to anybody who ventures into their accursed leather." The cadi could not refuse this request; and the miser learned to his cost the ill effects of not buying a new pair of shoes. THE VIOLET-GIRL. BY LORD HOUGHTON. When Fancy will continually rehearse Home yester-eve I wearily returned, Passing the corner of a pop'lous street, I marked a girl whose wont it was to stand, With pallid cheek, torn gown, and naked feet, And bunches of fresh violets in each hand. There her small commerce in the chill March weather It was a frightful thought to set together -Those luxuries and largess of the earth, Beauty and pleasure to the sense of man, And this poor sorry weed cast loosely forth On life's wild waste to struggle as it can! To me that odorous purple ministers Think after all this lapse of hungry hours, In the disfurnished chamber of dim cold, How she must loathe the very scented flowers That on the squalid table lie unsold! Rest on your woodland banks and wither there, Ye are no longer Nature's gracious gift, Yourselves so much, and harbingers of moreBut a most bitter irony to lift The veil that hides our sorest mortal sore. EDUCATION. [Martin Luther, born at Eisleben, Saxony, 10th November, 1483; died 18th February, 1546. The great Reformer, and reverenced by his countrymen as the father of the German language and literature. The following extract from "A Discourse on the Spiritual Advantages arising from the Futherance of Schools, and the Injury consequent on the Neglect of Them," is an interesting specimen of Luther's powers as an essayist, and has a curious significance in these days of schoolboards. ] Now if thou hast a child that is fit to receive, instruction, and art able to hold him to it and dost not, but goest thy way and carest not what shall become of the secular government, its laws, its peace, &c., thou warrest against the secular government, as much as in thee lies, like the Turk, yea, like the devil himself. For thou withholdest from the kingdom, principality, country, city, a redeemer, comfort, corner-stone, helper, and saviour. And on thy account the emperor loses both sword and crown; the country loses safeguard and freedom, and thou art the man through whose fault (as much as in thee lies) no man shall hold his body, wife, child, house, home, and goods in safety. Rather thou sacrificest all these without ruth in the shambles, and givest cause that men shall become mere beasts, and at last devour one another. This all thou wilt assuredly do, if thou withdraw thy child from so wholesome a condition, for the belly's sake. Now art thou not a pretty man and a useful in the world? who makest daily use of the kingdom and its peace, and by way of thanks, in return, robbest the same of thy son, and deliverest him up to avarice, and labourest with all diligence to this end, that there may be no man who shall help maintain the kingdom, law, and peace; but that all may go to wreck, notwithstanding thou thyself possessest and holdest body and life, goods and honour, by means of said kingdom. I will say nothing here of how fine a pleasure it is for a man to be learned, albeit he have never an office; so that he can read all manner of things by himself at home, talk and converse with learned people, travel and act in foreign lands. For peradventure there be few who will be moved by such delights. But seeing thou art so bent upon mammon and victual, look here and see how many and how great goods God has founded upon schools and scholars, so that thou shalt no more despise learning and art by reason of poverty. Behold' emperors and kings must have chancellors and scribes, counsellors, jurists, and scholars. There is no prince but he must have chancellors, jurists, counsellors, scholars, and scribes: so likewise, all counts, lords, cities, castles, must have syndics, city clerks, and other learned men; nay, there is not a nobleman but must have a scribe. Reckon up, now, how many kings, princes, counts, lords, cities, and towns, Where will they find learned men three years hence? seeing that here and there already a want is felt. Truly I think kings will have to become jurists and princes chancellors, counts and lords will have to become scribes, and burgomasters sacristans. &c. Therefore I hold that never was there a better time to study than now; not only for the reason that the art is now so abundant and so cheap, but also because great wealth and honour must needs ensue, and they that study now will be men of price; insomuch that two princes and three cities shall tear one another for a single scholar. For look above or around thee and thou wilt find that innumerable offices wait for learned men, before ten years shall have sped; and that few are being educated for the same. Besides honest gain, they have also honour. For chancellors, city clerks, jurists, and people in office, must sit with those who are placed on high, and help, counsel, and govern. And they, in fact, are the lords of this world, although they are not so in respect of person, birth, and rank. Solomon himself mentions that a poor man once saved a city, by his wisdom, against a mighty king. Not that I would have, herewith, warriors, troopers, and what belongs to strife done away, or despised and rejected. They also, where they are obedient, help to preserve peace and all things with their fist. Each has his honour before God as well as his place and work. On the other hand, there are found certain Three scratchers who conceit that the title of writer | jest freely, which a writer cannot do. fingers do the work (so they say of writers), but the whole body and soul must co-operate. is scarce worthy to be named or heard. Well, then, regard not that, but think on this wise: these good people must have their amusement and their jest. Leave them their jest, but remain thou, nevertheless, a writer before God and the world. If they scratch long, thou shalt see that they honour, notwithstanding, the pen above all things; that they place it2 upon hat and helmet, as if they would confess, by their action, that the pen is the top of the world, without which they can neither be equipped for battle nor go about in peace; much less scratch so securely. For they also have need of the peace which the emperors, preachers, and teachers (the lawyers) teach and maintain. Wherefore thou seest that they place our implement, the dear pen, uppermost. And with reason, since they gird their own implement, the sword, about the thighs; there it hangs fitly and well for their work; but it would not beseem the head: there must hover the plume. If, then, they have sinned against thee, they herewith expiate the offence, and thou must forgive them. There be some that deem the office of a writer to be an easy and trivial office; but to ride in armour, to endure heat, cold, dust, thirst, and other inconvenience, they think to be laborious. Yea! that is the old, vulgar, daily tune; that no one sees where the shoe pinches another. Every one feels only his own troubles, and stares at the ease of others. True it is, it would be difficult for me to ride in armour; but then, on the other hand, I would like to see the rider who should sit me still the whole day long and look into a book, though he were not compelled to care for aught, to invent, or think, or read. Ask a chancery-clerk, a preacher, or an orator, what kind of work writing and haranguing is? Ask a schoolmaster what kind of work is teaching and bringing up of boys? The pen is light, it is true, and among all trades no tool so easily furnished as that of the writing trade, for it needeth only a goose's wing, of which one shall everywhere find a sufficiency gratis. Nevertheless, in this employment, the best piece in the human body (as the head), and the noblest member (as the tongue), and the highest work (as speech) must take part and labour most; while, in others, either the fist, or the feet, or the back, or members of that class alone work; and they that pursue them may sing merrily the while, and 1 Scharrhansen, men who scratch for money, and think of nothing else.-TR. The word Feder, feather, is used indifferently in German to denote pen or plume.-TR. I have heard of the worthy and beloved emperor Maximilian, how, when the great boobies complained that he employed so many writers for missions and other purposes, he is reported to have said: “What shall I do? They will not suffer themselves to be used in this way, therefore I must employ writers." And further: "Knights I can create, but doctors I cannot create." So have I likewise heard of a fine nobleman, that he said, "I will let my son study. It is no great art to hang two legs over a steed and be a rider; he shall soon learn me that; and he shall be fine and well-spoken." They say, and it is true, the pope was once a pupil too. Therefore despise me not the fellows who say "panem propter Deum" before the doors and sing the bread-song.3 Thou hearest, as this psalm says, great princes and lords sing. I too have been one of these fellows, and have received bread at the houses, especially at Eisenach, my native city. Although, afterward, my dear father maintained me, with all love and faith, in the high-school at Erfurt, and, by his sore sweat and labour, has helped me to what I have become-still I have been a beggar at the doors of the rich, and, according to this psalm, have attained so far by means of the pen, that now I would not compound with the Turkish emperor, to have his wealth and forego my art. Yea, I would not take for it the wealth of the world many times multiplied; and yet, without doubt, I had never attained to it had I not chanced upon a school and the writers' trade. Therefore let thy son study, nothing doubting, and though he should beg his bread the while, yet shalt thou give to our Lord God a fine piece of wood out of which he can whittle thee a lord. And be not disturbed that vulgar niggards contemn the art so disdainfully, and say, Aha! if my son can write German, and read and cipher, he knows enough; I will have him a merchant. They shall soon become so tame that they will be fain to dig with their fingers, ten yards deep in the earth, for a scholar. For my merchant will not be a merchant long, when law and preaching fail. That know I for certain; we theologians and lawyers must remain, or all must go down with us together. It cannot be otherwise. When theologians go, then goes the Word of God, and 3 A song or psalm which the poor students of Luther's time sang, when they went about imploring charity at the doors of the rich. remains nothing but the heathen, yea! mere devils. When jurists go, then goes justice together with peace, and remains only murder, robbery, outrage, force, yea! mere wild beasts. But what the merchant shall earn and win, when peace is gone, I will leave it to his books to inform him. And how much profit all his wealth shall be to him when preaching fails, his conscience, I trow, shall declare to him. I will say briefly of a diligent pious schoolteacher or magister, or of whomsoever it is, that faithfully brings up boys and instructs them, that such an one can never be sufficiently recompensed or paid with money; as also the heathen Aristotle says. Yet is this calling so shamefully despised among us, as though it were altogether nought. And we call ourselves Christians! And if I must or could relinquish the office of preacher and other matters, there is no office I would more willingly have than that of schoolmaster or teacher of boys. For I know that this work, next to the office of preacher, is the most profitable, the greatest, and the best. Besides, I know not even which is the best of the two. For it is hard to make old dogs tame and old rogues upright; at which task, nevertheless, the preacher's office labours, and often labours in vain. But young trees be more easily bent and trained, howbeit some should break in the effort. Beloved! count it one of the highest virtues upon earth, to educate faithfully the children of others, which so few, and scarcely any, do by their own. MY LOVE. A tender paleness stealing o'er her cheek Then knew I how the spirits of the blest Communion hold in heaven; so beamed serene That pitying thought, by every eye unseen Save mine, wont ever on her charms to rest. Each grace angelic, each meek glance humane, Her lovely looks in sadness downward bent, In silence, to my fancy, seemed to say, Who calls my faithful friend so far away? PETRARCH. THE COMMON LOT.1 BY JAMES MONTGOMERY. Once, in the flight of ages past, Unknown the region of his birth, That joy and grief, and hope and fear, Alternate triumph'd in his breast; His bliss and woe,-a smile, a tear!Oblivion hides the rest. The bounding pulse, the languid limb, The changing spirits' rise and fall; We know that these were felt by him, For these are felt by all. He suffer'd, but his pangs are o'er; He loved, but whom he loved, the grave He saw whatever thou hast seen; Encounter'd all that troubles thee: He was whatever thou hast been; He is what thou shalt be. The rolling seasons, day and night, To him exist in vain. In 1806 Byron wrote an "Answer to a beautiful poem entitled The Common Lot," in which he pleads that honour and fame never die. The following stanzas will show the argument of the poem: "The rolling seasons pass away, And Time untiring waves his wing; Then do not say the common lot Of all lies deep in Lethe's wave; I was once for a few hours only-in the militia. I suspect I was in part answerable for my own mishap. There is a story in Joe Miller of a man who, being pressed to serve his majesty on another element, pleaded his polite breeding, to the gang, as a good ground of exemption; but was told that the crew being a set of sad unmannerly dogs, a Chesterfield was the very character they wanted. militiamen acted, I presume, on the same principle. Their customary schedule was forwarded to me, at Brighton, to fill up, and in a moment of incautious hilarity-induced, perhaps, by the absence of all business or employment, except pleasure-I wrote myself down in the descriptive column as "Quite a Gentleman." The The consequence followed immediately. A precept, addressed by the High Constable of Westminster to the Low ditto of the parish of St. Mand endorsed with my name, informed me that it had turned up in that involuntary lottery, the ballot. At the sight of the orderly, who thought proper to deliver the document into no other hands than mine, my mother-in-law cried, and my wife fainted on the spot. They had no notion of any distinctions in military service -a soldier was a soldier-and they imagined that, on the very morrow, I might be ordered abroad to a fresh Waterloo. They were unfortunately ignorant of that benevolent provision, which absolved the militia from going out of the kingdom-"except in case of an invasion." In vain I represented that we were "locals;" they had heard of local diseases, and thought there might be wounds of the same description. In vain I explained that we were not troops of the line; they could see nothing to choose between being shot in a line, or in any other figure. I told them next that I was not obliged to "serve myself;"-but they answered, "'twas so much the harder I should be obliged to serve any one else." My being sent abroad, they said, would be the death of them; for they had witnessed at Ramsgate the embarkation of the Walcheren expedition, and too well remembered "the misery of the soldiers' wives at seeing their husbands in transports!" I told them that, at the very worst, if I should be sent abroad, there was no reason why I should not return again;-but they both declared, they never did, and never would believe in those "Returns of the Killed and Wounded." The discussion was in this stage when it was interrupted by another loud single knock at the door, a report equal in its effects on us to that of the memorable cannon-shot at Brussels; and before we could recover ourselves, a strapping sergeant entered the parlour with a huge bow, or rather rainbow, of party-coloured ribbons in his cap. He came, he said, to offer a substitute for me; but I was prevented from reply by the indignant females asking him in the same breath, "Who and what did he think could be a substitute for a son and a husband?" The poor sergeant looked foolish enough at this turn; but he was still more abashed when the two anxious ladies began to cross-examine him on the length of his services abroad, and the number of his wounds, the campaigns of the militiaman having been confined doubtless to Hounslow, and his bodily marks militant to the three stripes on his sleeve. Parrying these awkward questions he endeavoured to prevail upon me to see the proposed proxy, a fine young fellow, he assured me, of unusual stature; but I told him it was quite an indifferent point with me whether he was 6-feet-2 or 2-feet-6, in short, whether he was as tall as the flag, or "under the standard." The truth is, I reflected that it was a time of profound peace, that a civil war or an invasion, was very unlikely; and as for an occasional drill, that I could make shift, like Lavater, to right-about-face. Accordingly, I declined seeing the substitute, and dismissed the sergeant with a note to the war-secretary to this purport-"That I considered myself drawn, and expected therefore to be well quarter'd. That, under the circumstances of the country, it would probably be unnecessary for militiamen to be mustarded;' but that if his majesty did call me out,' I hoped I should give him satisfaction."" The females were far from being pleased with this billet. They talked a great deal of moral suicide, wilful murder, and seeking the |