THE IRON NAIL. 415 



rare design ; these were mingled with verses from the Koran, and 

 couplets from Saadi and Mesihi, wrought in letters of gold. Numbers 

 of slaves of all countries were in attendance in this sumptuous resi- 

 dence; and it was here that the Bedouin Zahab, now called Mo- 

 hammed-Ildirim, removed his harem, filled with the most beautiful 

 females of Circassia and Mingrelia. His stables contained horses of 

 the best blood of Arabia ; and nothing was wanting that wealth could 

 procure to realize the Bedouin's ideas of bliss. Crowds of visitors 

 daily thronged his halls from all parts, attracted by the delights of 

 the place and the hospitality of its noble master. The caravans jour- 

 neying to and fro paused to admire the splendour of the building, 

 and to marvel at the riches of its owner. 



Day after day Mohammed invented new delights, until his ima- 

 gination was weary. His guests were regaled with the rarest wines 

 of Shiraz and Archipel, and sherbets, perfumed with the richest 

 essences, were presented to them in jewelled cups. They lived in the 

 lap of luxury and voluptuousness, and the music of sweet voices 

 lulled their excited spirits to rest. But the heart of the Bedouin was 

 not yet at ease. Among the beauties of his harem he wandered, like 

 the inconstant breeze from flower to flower, and nowhere could he fix 

 his regard. Vainly they set off their charms ; to no purpose were the 

 arched eyebrows pencilled with eastern art, or was increased the eye's 

 dark lustre. Though the tapering nails were tinged with the brilliant 

 dye, vieing with Aurora, who, tradition tells us, thus acquired the 

 appellation of " rosy fingered;" no art could fix the love of their in- 

 constant lord. 



Though the air he breathed was rich with the perfume of flowers 

 though the incense of flattery fed his er.r though the caresses of 

 beauty spoke of love and tenderness the eye of the Bedouin belied 

 the smile that played upon his lips. Couched upon down, he beheld 

 in his dreams the bed of sand in the Sahara the humble vestments of 

 the Arab wanderer, the carbine, the lance ; and he awoke weeping. 

 He sought with his eye the clear blue spangled heavens, that used to 

 form his canopy ; but draperies of silk and gold hid them from nis 

 sight. The same feeling that possessed the heart of the poor Zahab, 

 still remained with the rich Mohammed a restless and unquenchable 

 desire after that which he had not a void in his heart that could 

 never be filled, which made him poor in the midst of plenty, and 

 would make him miserable for ever. 



One evening, when Zahab and his guests were revelling in the en- 

 joyments of his palace, a man, enveloped in a large mantle, and 

 mounted on a black Syrian horse of the best blood, galloped into the 

 outer court of the palace; Zahab's head steward received him, and, 

 supposing he was an invited guest, asked him to join the fete given 

 that evening by his master ; but the stranger told him that he had 

 only just arrived from a distant country, and that it was the first 

 time he had ever seen the palace, or heard the name of Mohammed- 

 Ilderim. 



" Let me announce your arrival to my master," said the tchiaouch, 

 " you are fatigued, and he would not that a stranger departed with- 

 out food and rest." 



