all Persia, that our illustrious Shah has never forced the harem of even the meanest of his subjects; and, secure in that feeling, how could I ever suppose, most noble Serdar, that we should not receive the same protection under your government? You were certainly deceived when told that she was a Georgian prisoner; and had you known that she was the wife of one of your peasantry, you never would have made her your property.'-The Serdar, apparently struck by language so unusual to his ears, instead of appearing angry, on the contrary, looked delighted (if the looks of such a countenance could ever express delight); and, staring with astonished eyes upon the youth, seemed to forget even the reason of his having been brought before him. Of a sudden, he stopped all future discussion by saying to him, Enough, enough; go take your wife, and say no more; and, since you have rendered us a service at Hamamlû, you shall remain my servant, and wait upon my person. Go, my head valet will instruct you in your duties; and when attired in clothes suited to your situation, you will return again to our presence. Go, and recollect that my condescension towards you depends upon your future conduct. Upon this Yûsuf, in the fulness of his heart, ran up to him with great apparent gratitude, fell upon his knees, and kissed the hem of his garment, not knowing what to say, or what countenance to keep upon such unlooked-for good fortune. Every one present seemed astonished.-All congratulated the Serdar upon his humanity and benevolence, and compared him to the celebrated Noushirwan. Barikallah and Mashallah was repeated and echoed from mouth to mouth, and the story of his magnanimity was spread abroad, and formed the talk of the whole camp. I will not pretend to explain what were the Serdar's real sentiments; but those who well knew the man were agreed, that he could be actuated by no generous motive.

My chief and the Serdar having acquired all the information which Yûsûf and I could give them upon the force and position of the Muscovites, it was determined that an attack should immediately be made, and the army was ordered to march upon Hamamlû. I must not omit to say, that before the march began I received a visit from the Armenian. He was no longer, in appearance, the rude mountaineer, with his rough sheep-skin cap, his short Georgian tunic, his sandalled feet, his long knife hung over his knee, and his m slung obliquely across his body; but he was now at

tired in a long vest of crimson velvet, trimmed with gold lace and gold buttons, a beautiful Cashmerian shawl was tied gracefully round his waist; his small cap, of Bokhara lamb-skin, was duly indented at the top, and the two long curls behind his ears were combed out with all proper care. He had now more the appearance of a woman than a man, so much were his fine limbs hid by his robes; and as he approached me, he could not help blushing and looking awkward at the metamorphosis. He thanked me with expressions that indicated much gratitude, and assured me, that so far from having expected this result to his interview with the Serdar, he had, in fact, made up his mind to the loss of both his wife and life, and therefore had spoken with the boldness of one determined to die. 6 But,' said he, notwithstanding this great change in my fortunes, this new existence of mine will never do. I cannot endure the degradation of being a mere idle appendage to the state of the Serdar; and be not angry if, ere long, I decline the honour of his service. I will submit to every thing as long as my wife is not in a place of safety; but when once I have secured that, then adieu. Better live a swineherd, in the Georgian mountains, naked and houseless, than in all these silks and velvets, a despised hanger-on, be it even in the most luxurious court of Persia.' I could not help applauding such sentiments, although I should have been happy had he made any one else his confidant, conscious that if he did run away I should in some measure be made answerable for him.

I afterwards heard that when the Armenian had accomplished his project, the Serdar sent a party of men to Gavmishlû, to seize and bring before him Yûsûf's parents and kindred, with every thing that belonged to them; to take possession of their property, and to burn and destroy whatever they could not bring away: but the sagacious and active youth had foreseen this, and had taken his measures with such prudence and promptitude, that he had completely baffled the tyrant. He, his wife, his wife's relations, his own parents and family, with all their effects, had concerted one common plan of migration into the Russian territory. It had fully succeeded, as I afterwards heard, for they were received with great kindness, both by the government and by their own sect; lands were allotted, and every help afforded them for the re-establishment of their losses.

BOCCACCIO.*

ANDREUCCIO OF PERUGIA.

THERE lived, as I have heard, at Perugia, a young man named Andreuccio di Pietro, a dealer in horses, who, hearing of a good market at Naples, put five hundred florins of gold into his purse; and, having never been from home before, went with some other dealers, and arrived thither on a Sunday in the evening: and, according to the instruction he had received from his landlord, he went into the market next morning, where he saw many horses to his mind; cheapening their price as he went up and down, without coming to any bargain. But to show people that he came with an intent to buy, he unadvisedly pulled out his purse on all occasions; insomuch that a certain Sicilian damsel (who was at every one's service for a small matter) got a sight of it, as she was passing along, without being observed by him: and she said to herself, Who is there that would be my betters, if that purse were mine?' and passed on. Along with her was an old woman, of Sicily likewise, who, as soon she saw Andreuccio, ran to embrace him; which the young woman observing, without saying a word, stepped aside to wait for her. He immediately knew her, to her great joy, and without much discourse there, she having promised to come to his inn, he went on about his business, but bought nothing all that morning. The young woman taking notice first of the purse, and then of the old woman's knowledge of him, and contriving how to come at all or part of the money, began to en

* JOHN BOCCACCIO, one of the revivers of literature in Europe, was the son of a Florence merchant, and born in 1313. He died at Certaldo,[in 1375, leaving behind him a variety of works in verse and prose, Latin and Italian, among which his DECAMERON has been by far the most popular, and the one, in fact, which has permanently established his name. The Hundred Novels' that compose it have furnished the groundwork for many of the most celebrated fictions in modern literature,

quire of her, as cautiously as might be, if she knew who that man was, or whence he came, or what was his business, and also how she happened to know him: which she answered in every particular as fully as he himself could have done, having lived a long time with his father in Sicily, and afterwards at Perugia; telling her also the cause of his coming thither, and when he was to return. Thinking herself now sufficiently instructed, both concerning his kindred, and their names, she grounded her scheme upon it in the most artful manner possible; and going home she sent the old woman out upon business for the whole day to hinder her returning to him; and in the meantime, toward the evening, she despatched a young woman, well trained for such services, to his lodgings, who found him, by chance, sitting alone at the door, and inquiring of him whether he knew such a person, he made answer, that he was the man: upon which she took him a little aside, and said, 'Sir, a gentlewoman of this city would gladly speak with you, if you please. On hearing this, he began to consider the matter; and, as she seemed to be a creditable girl, he held it for granted that the lady must be in love with him; thinking himself as handsome a man as any in Naples: he answered, therefore, that he was ready, and demanded where and when the lady would speak with him. The girl replied, • She expects you at her own house as soon as it is agreeable to you.' Without saying a word then to the people of the inn, he bade her show him the way; and she brought him to her house, in a certain street famous for such sort of guests : but he, knowing nothing of the matter, nor at all suspecting, but that he was visiting a place of repute, and a lady that had taken a fancy to him, went into the house, and going up stairs (whilst the girl called aloud to her mistress, telling her that Andreuccio was there), found her at the top waiting for him. She was young and beautiful enough, and very well dressed. Seeing him appear, therefore, she ran down two or three steps with open arms to meet him; and taking him about the neck, she stood some time without speaking a word, as if prevented by her overgreat tenderness: at last, shedding abundance of tears, and kissing him over and over, she said (her words being interrupted as it were with transport) O my Andreuccio! you are heartily welcome.' He (quite astonished at being caressed in such a manner) replied, Madam, I am proud of the honour to wait upon you.' She then took him by the hand, and led him, without saying

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a word more, through a large dining-room into her own chamber, which was perfumed with roses, orange-flowers, and other costly odours, where was also a fine bed, and other rich furniture, far beyond what he had ever seen before, which convinced him that she was some great lady: and sitting down together upon a couch at the bed's feet she addressed herself to him in this manner 'Andreuccio, I am very sure you must be under great astonishment both at my tears and embraces, as being unacquainted with me, and perhaps never having heard of me before: but you will now hear what will surprise you more, namely, that I am your sister and I assure you, that since God has indulged me with the sight of one of my brethren, as I wished to have seen them all, I could die contented this very moment: if you be unacquainted with the particulars of my story, I will relate them. Pietro, my father and yours, as I suppose you must know, lived a long time at Palermo, where he was much respected for his behaviour and good nature (and may be so still) by all that knew him. Amongst others that liked him on that account was my mother, a widow lady; who, notwithstanding the regard due to her father and brothers, as well as to her own honour, cohabited with him, till at length I was born, and am now what you see. Having occasion afterwards to retire from Palermo, and to return to Perugia, he left me there an infant, with my mother, and from that time, as far as I can learn, took no more notice either of me or her; which, were he not my father, I could blame him for; considering what ingratitude he showed to my mother, to omit the love he owed to me his child, begotten of no vile prostitute, who, out of her abundant love, had put herself and all her wealth into his hands, without having any further knowledge of him. But to what purpose? Ill actions, done so long since, are easier blamed than amended: yet so it was; he left me, as I said, at Palermo, an infant, where, when I grew up, my mother, who was rich, married me to one of the family of the Gergenti; who, out of regard to me and her, came and lived at Palermo, where, falling into the faction of the Guelphs, and having begun to treat with our King Charles, he was discovered by Frederick, king of Arragon, before his scheme could take effect, and forced to fly from Sicily, at a time when I expected to have been the greatest lady in the island. Taking away what few effects we were able (I call them few, with regard to the abundance we were possessed of), and leaving our estates and palaces