brated his courage, his liberality, his popular arts, with malicious and exaggerated praise. As soon as she perceived that the sultan heard these encomiums, which were often repeated with uneasiness; that suspicion of his son began to mingle itself with his former esteem of him; and that by degrees he came to view him with jealousy and fear; she introduced, as if by accident, some discourse concerning the rebellion of his father Selim against Bajazet his grandfather; she took notice of the bravery of the veteran troops under Mustapha's command, and of the neighbourhood of Diarbequir to the territories of the Persian Sophi, Solyman's mortal enemy. By these arts, whatever remained of paternal tenderness was entirely extinguished, and such passions were kindled in his breast, as gave all Roxalana's malignant suggestions the color not only of probability but of truth. A deep-rooted hatred succeeded now, to his suspicions and fear of Mustapha. He appointed spies to observe and report all his words and actions; he watched and stood on his guard against him as his most dangerous enemy.

Having thus alienated the sultan's heart from Mustapha, Roxalana ventured on another step, and entreated Solyman to allow her own sons the liberty of appearing at court, hoping that, by gaining access to their father, they might, by their good qualities and dutiful deportment, insinuate themselves into that place in his affections which Mustapha had formerly held; and, though what she demanded was contrary to the practice of the Ottoman family in that age, the uxorious monarch granted her request.

To all these female intrigues, Rustan added an artifice still more subtle, which completed the sultan's delusion, and heightened his jealousy and fear. He wrote to the bashaws of the provinces adjacent to Diarbequir, instructing them to send him regular intelligence of Mustapha's proceedings in his government; and to each of them he gave a private hint, flowing, in appearance, from his zeal for their interest, that nothing would be more acceptible to the sultan than to receive favorable accounts of a son whom he destined to sustain the glory of the Ottoman name.

The bashaws ignorant of his fraudulent intention, and eager to pay court to their sovereign at such an easy price,

filled their letters with studied but fatal panegyrics of Mustapha, representing him as a prince worthy to succeed such an illustrious father, and as endowed with talents which might enable him to emulate, perhaps to equal his fame. These letters were industriously shown to Solyman, at the seasons when it was known that they would make the deepest impression. Every expression in recommendation of his son wounded him to the heart, he suspected his principal officers of being ready to favor the most desperate attempts of a prince whom they were so fond to praise; and, fancying that he saw them already assaulting his throne with rebellious arms, he determined, while it was yet in his power, to anticipate the blow, and secure his own safety by his son's death.

For this purpose, though under pretence of renewing the war against Persia, he ordered Rustan to march towards Diarbequir at the head of a numerous army, and to rid him of a son whose life he deemed inconsistent with his own safety. But that crafty minister did not chose to be loaded with the odium of having executed this cruel order. As soon as he arrived in Syria, he wrote to Solyman, that the danger was so imminent as to call for his immediate presence; that the camp was full of Mustapha's emmissaries; that many of the soldiers were corrupted; that the affections of all leaned towards him, that he had discovered a negociation which had been carried on with the Sophi of Persia, in order to marry Mustapha with one of his daughters; that he had already felt both his talents and his authority to be inadequate to the exigencies of such an arduous conjecture; that the sultan alone had sagacity to discern what resolution should be taken in those circumstances, and power to carry that resolution into execution.

This charge of courting the friendship of the Sophi, Roxalana and Rustan had reserved as the last and most envenomed of all their calumnies. It operated with the violence which they expected from Solyman's inveterate abhorrence of the Persians, and threw him into the wildest transports of rage. He set out instantly for Syria, and hastened thither with all the precipitation and impatience of fear and revenge. As soon as he had joined his army near Aleppo,

and had concerted measures with Rustan, he sent a chiaus, or messenger of the court, to his son, requiring him to repair immediately to his presence.

Mustapha, though no stranger to his step-mother's machinations, or to Rustan's malice, or to his father's violent temper, yet, relying on his own innocence, followed the messenger without delay to Aleppo. The moment he arrived in the camp, he was introduced into the sultan's tent. As he entered it, he observed nothing that could give him any alarm; no additional crowd of attendants, no body of armed guards, but the same order and silence which always reign in the_sultan's apartments. In a few minutes, however, several mutes appeared, at the sight of whom Mustapha, knowing what was his doom, cried with a loud voice, "Lo, my death!" and attempted to fly. The mutes rushed forward to seize him he resisted and struggled, demanding with the utmost earnestness to see the sultan; and despair, together with the hope of finding protection from the soldiers, if he could escape out of the tent, animated him with such extraordinary strength, that, for some time, he baffled all the efforts of the executioners.

Solyman was within hearing of his son's cries, as well as of the noise which his struggle occasioned. Impatient of this delay of his revenge, and struck with terror at the thoughts of Mustapha's escaping, he drew aside the curtain which divided the tent, and thrusting in his head, darted a fierce look towards the mutes, and with wild and threatening gestures seemed to chide them for sloth and timidity. At sight of his father's furious and unrelenting countenance, Mustapha's strength failed, and his courage forsook him; the mutes fastened the bow string about his neck, and in a moment put an end to his life.

The dead body was exposed before the sultan's tent. The soldiers gathered round it, and contemplating the mournful object with astonishment, sorrow, and indignation, were ready, if a leader had not been wanting, to have broke out into the wildest excesses of rage. After giving vent to the first expressions of their grief, they retired each man to his tent, and shutting themselves up, bewailed in secret the cruel fate of their favorite, nor was there one of them who tasted food, or even water, the remainder of that day.

G. 28.

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Next morning the same solitude and silence reigned in the camp; and Solyman, being afraid that some dreadful storm would follow this sudden calm, in order to appease the enraged soldiers, deprived Rustan of the seals of office, ordered him to leave the camp, and raised Achmet, a gallant officer much beloved in the army, to the dignity of the

vizier.

This charge, however, was made in concert with Rustan himself; that crafty minister suggesting it as the only expedient which could save himself or his master. But within

a few months, when the resentment of the soldiers began to subside, and the name of Mustapha to be forgotten, Achmet was strangled by the sultan's command, and Rustan reinstated in the office of vizier. Together with his former. power, he resumed the plan for extirminating the race of Mustapha which he had concerted with Roxalana; and as they were afraid that an only son whom Mustapha had left, might grow up to avenge his death, they redoubled their activity, and, by employing the same arts against him, which they had practised against his father, they inspired Solyman with the same fears, and prevailed on him to issue orders for putting to death that young and innocent prince.

These orders were executed with barbarous zeal, by an eunuch, who was despatched to Burza, the place where the prince resided; and no rival was left to dispute the Ottoman throne with the sons of Roxalana.

ORPHANS IN A STORM.

BY FREDERICK TYRRELL, ESQ.

It was a dark stormy night in December when I took refuge in a woodcutter's hut on the borders of Languedoc. I had not been long seated, and enjoyed the comforts of my host's fireside and glass of wine, when a low knock was heard at the door. "Hollo, who's there!" said the woodcutter a low moaning sob was the only reply. "Another

poor devil of a traveller benighted," said I. " Aye, aye, the woodcutter's door shall never be closed against distress or misfortune." The latch was soon up, and two girls, of interesting appearance though meanly attired, presented themselves.