ceased to speak. The solemn manner, and the earnest tones in
which he had told this sad episode of his life, made a deep impression
on me; and when I looked on his frame, bent more by sorrow than with
age, and saw the settled gloom of an inward grief shadowing a
countenance, on which length of years and rectitude of conduct should
have left the lines of happiness and mental peace, I felt how unable was
virtuous thought, or strength of intellectual refinement, to secure,
even, the love of life's young day, or to soothe the anguish of its
loss; and, unresistingly, I yielded to the remembrance of hope's
passionate farewell to joys, once dreamed of, before the world's strange
knowledge fell with grief's canker on the bloom of my own heart.

The old man rose to go. When I had assisted him from his seat, he took
my hand, and, sadly, wished me farewell. I watched him a long time,
wending his way slowly homeward through the corn-fields; and, when his
form was hid from sight, I could just see his head above the blades of
corn, and his silvery, white hair shining, like a wreath of snow, in the
slanted rays of the setting sun.

About six o'clock, when returning to the yacht, I heard the beating of
drums and discharge of cannon, the howling of dogs, the screams and
lamentation of women, and, now and then, rising above the general din,
the shrill blast of trumpets. As I approached nearer to the water-side,
the rigging, even to the mast-heads of the different ships in the
harbour and canals was crowded with sailors, who, clinging by one leg,
or one arm, to the ropes, strove with outstretched necks, to catch a
glimpse of some extraordinary deed to be, or being done. Presently a
troop of horse-soldiers trotted by me; and it was with some difficulty I
could escape being trod under foot by these impatient riders. Everybody
seemed mad. One Swede, with slippered feet, without hat or coat, rushed
past me with so much impetuosity, that he was like to throw me to the
ground; and, seizing him by his flying shirt-sleeve, I remonstrated
against his carelessness. He gave no heed to my anger, but continued
headlong in his flight, and left a fragment of his linen in my
possession. The maniac speed and bearing of the man reminded me of a
story which is told of the Calif Hegiage, who, having by his cruelties
rendered himself hateful to his subjects, one day, on a journey, met an
Arabian of the Desert, and asked him, among many other things, what kind