Tai clothed his brothers; presented them to his wife, and made them kiss his children. "Alas!" said Bekir, much affected, "your happy lot consoles us for all that we have suffered. Since the moment of our separation, our lives have been but a series of calamities; and we have not so much as had a glimpse of that Bathmendi, after whom we have been running." "I believe you"—said the little old man who continued still at the table; "I have never stirred from this place." "What!" exclaimed Mesrou, "are you ..." "I am BATHMENDI," said the old man. "It is quite natural that you should not know me, since you never saw me before: but ask Tai—ask Amine—and all these children, every one of whom knows my name. I have lived with them fifteen years; and am perfectly at home here. I have been away but for one day; it was when Amine's father died: but I returned, and now hope never to go hence a single step. It rests only with yourselves, gentlemen adventurers, to become acquainted with me. If it so please you, I am willing: if not, why I shall be content. I trouble no one: I stay in my corner, never dispute, and detest noise." The three brothers, whose eyes had been eagerly fixed upon the little old man, wished to embrace him. "O, softly!" said he: "I do not like all these violent emotions: I am rather delicate; and too close an embrace stifles me. Besides—we must become friends before we caress. If you wish us to become friends, do not busy yourselves too much about me. I value freedom more than politeness; and have an antipathy to all excess." At these words he arose, kissed the foreheads of all the children, slightly saluted the three brothers, smiled upon Amine and Tai; and went to await them in their chamber.
Tai sat down again with his brothers, and had beds prepared for them. The next morning, he shewed them his fields, his flocks, his working beasts; and unfolded to them all the pleasures he enjoyed. Bekir wished to begin work that very day; and he was the first to become the friend of Bathmendi. Mesrou, who had been prime minister, was the chief shepherd; and the poet assumed the task of selling the corn, wool, and milk, which were sent to market in the city. His eloquence attracted customers; and he was as useful as the others. At the end of six months, Bathmendi became attached to them; and their days, many and tranquil, flowed softly on to the bosom of felicity.
[It is needless to say, that Bathmendi, in the Persian tongue, signifies Happiness.]
For the Southern Literary Messenger.
A SCENE IN PARIS—1827.
BY A VIRGINIAN.
In the month of May 1827 I was in Paris. The discontent of the people with the government had recently been augmented by a proposition to restrain the liberty of the press, which the king had laid before the legislative chambers; and which, having passed the deputies, was under consideration before the peers.
This discontent with a government, which was in point of fact a very good one, had existed since the restoration of the Bourbons, and had its origin in the degradation to which the French people conceived themselves to have been subjected, in receiving a monarch at the hands of hostile strangers.