The Circassian Slave, or, the Sultan's favorite Part 16

"I served in that ship until I was its first officer, and by good luck, having been once employed in one of the Sultan's ships as a pilot during a fierce gale, through which I was enabled, by my good luck, to carry the ship safely. I was appointed at once a lieutenant in the service, with good pay, and the means of improvement. The latter my taste led me to take advantage of, and in a short time I found myself in the command, where I was able to serve you."

"But you had no means whereby to learn of your birth and early childhood?" asked Komel's mother.

"None; I have thought much of the subject, but what effort to make in order to discover the truth as it regards this matter, I know not."

"Had you nothing about your person that could indicate your origin?"

"Nothing."

"Nor could the people with whom you sailed account for these things?" asked Aphiz.

"They said that I was taken off from a wreck on the Asia sh.o.r.e, the only survivor of a crew."

"How very strange," repeated all.

"You found nothing then upon you to mark the fact?" asked Komel's mother once more, sadly.

"Nothing--stay--there was an oaken cross upon my neck. I had nearly forgotten that; I wear it still, and for years I have thought it a sacred amulet, but it can reveal nothing."

"The cross, the cross?" they cried in one voice, "let us see it."

As he unb.u.t.toned the collar of his coat and drew forth the emblem, Komel's mother, who had drawn close to his side, uttered a wild cry of delight as she fell into her husband's arms, saying:

"It is our lost boy!"

Words would but faintly express the scene and feelings that followed this announcement, and we leave the reader's own appreciations to fill up the picture to which we have referred.

Yes, Captain Selim, the gallant officer who had saved Aphiz's life, and liberated Komel from the Sultan's harem, was her own dear brother, but who had been counted as dead years and years gone by.

Could a happier consummation have been devised? and Zillah, who loved Selim so tenderly before, now found fresh cause for joy, delight and tenderness in the new page in her husband's history.

Selim, too, now understood the secret influence that had led him to bid so high for the lone slave he had met in the bazaar, the reason why he had, by some undefined intuitive sense, been so drawn towards her in his feelings, for the dumb and beautiful girl was his unknown sister!

And again when he heard her name mentioned, for the first time, by the Armenian physician, it will be remembered how the name rung in his ears, awaking some long forgotten feelings, yet so indistinctly that he could not express or fairly a.n.a.lyze them. The same sensations have more than once come over him since that hour while they were suffering together the hardships of the week, and the fearful scenes that followed the gale they had encountered after the chase.

Aphiz and Komel loved each other now, as they never could have done, but for the strange vicissitudes which they had shared together.

They had grown to be necessary to each other's being, and even when absent from each other for a few hours, in soul they were still together. And hand in hand, side by side, they still wandered about the wild mountain scenery of their native hills. They had no thoughts but of love, no desires that were not in unison, no throbbing of their b.r.e.a.s.t.s that did not echo a kindred token in each other's hearts. Life, kindred, the whole world were seen by them through the soft ideal hues of ever present affection.

And when, at last, with full consent from her parents, Aphiz led Komel a blushing bride to the altar, and Selim and Zillah supported them on either side, how happy were they all!

Years pa.s.s on in the hills of Circa.s.sia as in all the rest of the world beside. Sunshine and shadow glance athwart its crowning peaks, the waves of the Black Sea lave its sh.o.r.es, its daughters still dream of a home among the Turks, and the secret cargoes are yet run from Anapa up the Golden Horn. The slave bazaar of the Ottoman capital still presents its bevy of fair creatures from the north, and the Sultan's agents are ever on the alert for the most beautiful to fill the monarch's harem. The Brother of the Sun chooses his favorites from out a score of lovely Georgians and Circa.s.sians, but he does not forget her who had so entranced his heart, so enslaved his affections, and then so mysteriously escaped from his gilded cage.

But as time pa.s.ses on the scene changes--rosy-cheeked children cling about Aphiz's knees, and a dear, black-eyed representative of her mother clasps her tiny arms about his neck. And so, too, are Selim and Zillah blessed, and their children play and laugh together, causing an ever constant flow of delight to the parents' hearts.

There ever watches over them one sober, quiet eye--one whom the children love dearly, for he joins them in all their games and sports, and astonishes and delights them by his wonderful feats of agility. It is the half-witted creature, who had followed and loved Komel so well. As years have pa.s.sed over him, the sun-light of reason gradually crept into his brain, and the poor boy saw a new world before him. His only care, his only thought, his constant delight seeming to be these lovely children.

The events of the past are often recurred to by Komel and her husband, around the quiet hearthstone that forms the united home of Selim, Zillah, and themselves, and the sun sets in the west, shedding its parting rays over no happier circle than theirs. Nor does Komel now regret that she was once the Sultan's slave.

As now he lays down his pen, let the author hope that he has won the kind consideration and remembrance of those who have read his story of THE CIRCa.s.sIAN SLAVE.

THE END.

[FROM GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DRAWING ROOM COMPANION.]

A Sc.r.a.p OF ROMAN HISTORY.

BY AN UNKNOWN POET.

In the olden days of Roman Grandeur, glory, wealth, and pride; Once there came a might legion From a vast and far-off region And this Roman power defied.

Naught could stay their devastations In the lands through which they came; All the weeping supplications Of the terror-stricken nations Could not quench these Vandals' flame.

Ah! most cruel were the invaders, Cruel their chastizing rods!

For their hearts were stone-like hardened, These remorseless and unpardoned Foes of men and all the G.o.ds.

And at last they came with boastings To the G.o.ds' and learning's home; Came with boasting, loud and merry, Came, at last, unto the very Walls of proud, imperial Rome.

Ah! why did they not, in mercy, Spare the "Mistress of the World!"

Or, why did they not, when power Sat on Roman wall and tower, Come, and bid their darts be hurled.

For the Romans' strength was broken.

Gone, like light from darkness, now; Now, when most that strength was need, Strength was not;--there Weakness worse than Venla's vow.

Bearing all the outward semblance Of a firm and mighty hold, Rome was inwardly as feeble As a cemeteried people Changed into corruption's mould.

Ease, corruption, strife, dissension, Gaiety, licentious mirth, Luxury;--O, bane of mortals!

All had sapped the very portals Of this mightiest queen of earth.

Therefore, when these hordes of robbers Swarmed around the Roman's way, Scarcely shadow of resistance Met them near, or in the distance, And they found an easy prey.

Vandals, Alans, Allemanni, Longobardi, Avars, Moors, Goths, Suevi, Huns, Bulgarians, Overwhelming, rude barbarians Conquered Rome with deafening roars.

Desecrated, fired and plundered, Worse than vessel tempest-tost.

Rome was by her dissipations Blotted from the list of nations; Rome was lost!--forever lost!