gth!
King of the desert, your children are come
To cluster, like sheep, in the shade of your strength,
Or to strike, like young lions, for country and home,
When your eyes are ablaze at the roll of the drum!

Monsoor, my chief! now one gallop, to see
The land you have sworn that no despot shall grind!
Though sun-tanned and arid, by Allah! 'tis free!
Its crops are these lances: these sons of the wind,
Our steeds, are its flocks--a grim harvest to bind!

Monsoor, my chief! how we dash o'er the sand,
Hissing behind us like storm-driven snow!
Flash the long guns of your wild Arab band,
Brandish the spears, and the light jereeds throw,
As, half-winged, through the shrill singing breezes we go!

Monsoor, my chief! send the horses away:
The sports of your tribe I have seen with delight.
Now let us watch while the rose-tinted day
Fades from the desert, and peace-bearing Night
Shakes the first gem on her brow in our sight.

Monsoor, my host! lo, I enter your tent,
As brother by brother, hands clasping, is led:
I sleep like a child in a dream Heaven-sent;
For have I not eaten the salt and the bread?
And Monsoor will answer for me with his head.

GEORGE H. BOKER.

CONSTANTINOPLE, Jan. 10, 1875.

HOW HAM WAS CURED.

This was in slave times. It was also immediately after dinner, and the
gentlemen had gone to the east piazza. Mr. Smith was walking back and
forth, talking somewhat excitedly for him, while Dr. Rutherford sat with
his feet on the railing, thoughtfully executing the sentimental
performance of cutting his nails. Dr. Rutherford was an old friend of
Mr. Smith who had been studying surgery in Philadelphia, and now, on his
way back to South Carolina, had tarried to make us a visit.

"You see," Mr. Smith was saying, "about a week ago one of our old
negroes died under the impression that she was 'tricked' or bewitched,
and the consequence has been that the entire plantation is demoralized.
You never saw anything like it."

"Many a time," said Dr. Rutherford, and calmly cut his nails.

"There is not a negro on the place," continued Edward, "who does not lie
down at night in terror of the Evil Eye, and go to his work in the
morning paralyzed by dread of what the day may bring. Why, there is a
perfect panic among them. They are falling about like a set of ten-pins.
This morn