Abul Cassim, now perfectly in despair, took his old shoes, and after washing them clean, laid them on the terrace of his house, with the intention, after they were well dried, to burn them, and so put an end to all shame and misfortune on their account. But it happened that while the shoes were drying, a neighbor's dog passing over the terrace saw them, and mistaking them for dried meat, took one in his mouth, sprang from one terrace to the other, and in doing so let it fall. The neighbor's wife was enciente, and as she happened to be sitting at the foot of the wall, the shoe fell upon her, and in her alarm she was prematurely brought to bed. Her husband, in great anger, complained to the governor, and Abul Cassim was once more thrown into prison and made to pay a fine.
Abul Cassim now tore his hair and beard with grief, and accusing the shoes of being the cause of all his misfortunes, he took them in his hand, and going before the Cadi of Bagdad, related to him all that had befallen him. 'I beg you,' added he, 'to receive my declaration, and I hope all these Mussulmans will bear witness that I now break off all farther relation between me and these shoes, and have no longer any thing to do with them. I ask also a certificate showing that I am free from them, and they free from me; so that if henceforth there are any punishments or fines to be incurred, questions to be asked or answers to be given, that they may take them all upon themselves.
The Cadi, much amused with what he heard, gave the desired certificate, and added a present to Abul Cassim. Behold in this tale to what misfortunes the avaricious subject themselves!
[TO A HUMMING-BIRD.]
BY H. W. ROCKWELL.
I.
Bright stranger from the South! who with the cool
Light airs of Summer visitest the sweet
Soft twilight that o'erspreads the shaded pool,
And the young river-flowers that faint with heat:
Welcome art thou to the cold North again,
With thy dark glossy hood, and emerald wings;
And pleasant be thy way along the glen,
Where the brown wood-thrush in the thicket sings,
Or where to prostrate trees the nodding wild flower clings.
II.
Thy silver beak, which late from Southern flowers
Sipped God's good bounty, here, where green leaves meet
And shed their coolness through the long sweet hours
Of the bright noontide, shalt find blooms as sweet;
The juicy clover in the meadow-grass
Shall give thee honey from its crimson cells,
And thou shalt take, where curling eddies pass,
Thy supper in the dewy mountain-bells,
When the meek evening-wind amid the forest swells.