An old Arabian tale the truth conveys,
That, honor’s passion avarice outweighs.

* * * * *

Brave Achmed owned a mare of wondrous speed;
He prized her much above his wife or creed.

And lest some one should steal that precious mare,
He guarded her with unremitting care.

He tied her every night before his tent;
The fastening-cord then round his pillow went.

  When all in slumber lay, the robber crept,
  Unloosed the cord, and on the courser leapt.

  “Wake up!” he cries,—­“’tis I, the thief, who call;
  See now if she in flight is chief of all!”

  Mount Achmed and his tribe in wrath and shame,
  And chase him as a tempest chases flame.

  Hot Achmed nearly to the robber came,
  When thus he thought:  “My mare will lose her fame.

  “If I o’ertake her, she is then outrun;
  But if I reach her not, I am undone.

  “Oh, better she were stolen before my face
  Than have her vanquished in this desperate race!”

  One secret sign his mare was taught to heed,
  Whenever she must try her utmost speed.

  He to the robber screamed, “Quick, pinch her ear!”
  The sign she felt with answering love and fear.

  As like a level thunderbolt she flew,
  All chase was vain, the vexed pursuers knew.

  Before this self-betrayal blank surprise
  Fills Achmed’s comrades, and their wondering cries

  Demand, “How shall thy foolish act be named?”—­
  “My mare is lost, her glory is not shamed.”

  He says:  “I knew, that, if her ear he nipped,
  The darling prize could never be outstripped.”

CHARLES LAMB AND SYDNEY SMITH.

There were in Great Britain, soon after the commencement of the present century, three remarkable groups of young men.  Distinct schools of thought, like the philosophic schools of Greece, each of the groups was marked by peculiar ideas, tastes, and sympathies.  The French Revolution, with its menace of fundamental changes, clashing with sentiments and convictions which ages had rendered habitual and dear, called for an inquiry into great principles and the grounds of things.  The Napoleonic age had the terrific formlessness of chaos.  Did it premonish the passing away of old things, and herald the birth of a new order and a new social state? or did the trouble spring from innate madness in the “younger strengths” which were trying to overthrow the world’s kingdoms?  Should venerable Royalty, after howling in the wilderness and storm, be again enthroned? or should men attempt to realize the fair ideals which the word Republic suggested?  Should religion be supplanted? should Protestantism be confirmed? or should, perchance, the crosier of the Old Church be again waved over Europe?  These were the questions that were mooted, and they aroused unwonted activity and vigor of thought as well in literature as in politics.