But the proofs of this kindly temper were not confined to his own followers.  Among the prisoners were two sons of Ali, the Turkish commander-in-chief.  One was seventeen, the other only thirteen years of age.  Thus early had their father desired to initiate them in a profession which, beyond all others, opened the way to eminence in Turkey.  They were not on board of his galley, and when they were informed of his death, they were inconsolable.  To this sorrow was now to be added the doom of slavery.

As they were led into the presence of Don John, the youths prostrated themselves on the deck of his vessel.  But raising them up, he affectionately embraced them.  He said all he could to console them under their troubles.  He caused them to be treated with the consideration due to their rank.  His secretary, Juan de Soto, surrendered his quarters to them.  They were provided with the richest apparel that could be found among the spoil.  Their table was served with the same delicacies as that of the commander-in-chief; and his gentlemen of the chamber showed the same deference to them as to himself.  His kindness did not stop with these acts of chivalrous courtesy.  He received a letter from their sister Fatima, containing a touching appeal to Don John’s humanity, and soliciting the release of her orphan brothers.  He had sent a courier to give their friends in Constantinople the assurance of their personal safety; “which,” adds the lady, “is held by all this court as an act of great courtesy,—­gran gentilezza; and there is no one here who does not admire the goodness and magnanimity of your Highness.”  She enforced her petition with a rich present, for which she gracefully apologized, as intended to express her own feelings, though far below his deserts.

The young princes, in the division of the spoil, were assigned to the pope.  But Don John succeeded in obtaining their liberation.  Unfortunately, the elder died—­of a broken heart, it is said—­at Naples.  The younger was sent home, with three of his attendants, for whom he had an especial regard.  Don John declined the present, which he gave to Fatima’s brother.  In a letter to the Turkish princess, he remarked, that “he had done this, not because he undervalued her beautiful gift, but because it had ever been the habit of his royal ancestors freely to grant favors to those who stood in need of their protection, but not to receive aught by way of recompense.”

THE WIND AND STREAM.

    A brook came stealing from the ground;
      You scarcely saw its silvery gleam
    Among the herbs that hung around
      The borders of that winding stream,—­
      A pretty stream, a placid stream,
      A softly gliding, bashful stream.

    A breeze came wandering from the sky,
      Light as the whispers of a dream;
    He put the o’erhanging grasses by,
      And gayly stooped to kiss the stream,—­
      The pretty stream, the flattered stream,
      The shy, yet unreluctant stream.