OSMAN was a merchant residing at Gaza, and from time to time his affairs compelled him to cross the desert from Gaza to Cairo. He could not always find a caravan starting at the period at which he had to make the journey, and he had learned from experience not to fear the great, terrible desert, but to traverse it alone. He allowed about ten days for his solitary journey, and had been taught to trust to Allah for protection and guidance across the pathless waste. He arranged with the Bedouins for a safe conduct, and when he wished to go to and return from Cairo, he bought a heirie, or swift dromedary, which he sold again when his journey was happily completed. He had many times traversed in perfect safety the huge sea of sand, and he had confidence in himself and in Allah; for Osman was a devout and pious Mussulman, who trusted, without a doubt, God and his prophet. He was sedulously observant of all the forms and obligations of his religion, and never failed at the hours of prayer to hobble his dromedary, to spread out his praying carpet upon the arid sand, and to pray fervently as a good Mussulman should.

That which men have done often they do easily, and without dread, as sailors occupy their business in the great waters without much thought of fear; and Osman was neither daunted or dismayed when, one day, his business compelled him to make another voyage across the desert.

He bought a fine young dromedary, very fleet and willing, though without as yet much experience. He packed upon the animal his provisions, as dates, beans, cakes of barley; and you may be sure that he did not forget his prayer carpet.

So, on one early morning, before the heats had begun, Osman perched himself high upon the hump of his dromedary and started with pious cheerfulness upon his long and lonely voyage on the ship of the desert." His conscience was serene, his heart was calm, and he

hoped to perform the journey as safely as he had so often made it.

And then for three or four days he travelled steadily on. He had one oasis, that of Gatieh, to look forward to as a cool, restful break in the monotony of his long ride; and he exercised his fancy in picturing to himself the shade of palms, and the fair fountain of fresh, pure water. The desert is very lonely and very silent, and a man's voice, as he cheers on his dromedary, sounds strangely in the void waste. Himself the centre of a round horizon, with a flaming sky and a branding sun burning above and about him, Osman rode over the shifting sand-hills, blinding in their dazzling heat-glare, and stopped from time to time to allow his beast to graze upon the poor, prickly shrubs, in which camels manage to find nourishment. The hot air was dry and fine, the utter silence was at times oppressive, but Osman was used to these things, and voyaged on, steadfast in his purpose and secure in his faith in the divine protection.

The hour of prayer! Osman descended from his high plump perch, hobbled his beast, and spread his praying carpet in the shade thrown upon the sand by the lofty dromedary.

Then he prayed, and bowed his face to the earth as a good Mussulman should. He heard a soft sound of flat steps, and lo! when he looked up, he saw that the dromedary had got loose from his shackles, and was speeding away in long, shambling, rolling strides over the wide plains of glittering sand.

Osman's first wild impulse was to pursue the faithless animal; but he soon saw that pursuit was hopeless.

He was alone, and unprovisioned. All his stores of food, all the water, were being borne swiftly away from him by the fleet animal, which became every moment smaller and smaller in his aching sight. Should he-could he-try to walk homeward, or onward to the oasis? Could he walk in that heat? Could he subsist without food or water? His

heart beast fast, his brain throbbed, his sight became dim. He was in sore stead, and succumbed to a burning delirium of horrible despair. He felt sick with dread. . . . He had absolutely He had absolutely nothing left with him-except the small prayer carpet.

After a period--he never knew how long it lasted-of blank stupor, Osman awoke again vividly to the horrors of his position, and, in his anguish of spirit he uttered an exceeding bitter cry. To die alone of hunger and thirst in the sad desert seemed to the wretched man a terrible doom, and his soul sickened within him at the appalling prospect. The pitiless sun scorched his very brain; and there, beside him, on the burning. sand, lay the little red carpet. Almost mechanically he knelt upon it and tried to pray. His thoughts were confused, and words would not come, but he repeated passages from the Koran which appealed to Allah, the compassionate, the merciful. His spirit fainted within him, and he fell into a kind of swoon. When consciousness returned the sun was sinking, his shadow fell upon the sand, and his mind was calmer. Suddenly, as he gazed over the far desert, he thought he saw, at a great distance. a little speck, which yet seemed to move, and to come slowly nearer to him. The speck was yet afar off when Osman fancied that he could discern a rapidly approaching dromedary on which sat a man. His heart beat violently, and he strained his eyes to gaze yet more intently. Soon he became certain that his impression was not mere fancy. Help was surely coming, and was coming swiftly. The rider seemed to see him, and the dromedary came directly towards him. Oh, the sense of aching relief in poor Osman's strained mind as he felt sure that the rider saw him and was steering towards him.

Soon he saw-and he thought that his eyes were playing him false-that the animal which was so swiftly swinging

towards him had more than four legs. This perplexed his mind and occupied his excited thoughts. Nearer and nearer came the swiftly moving mass, and larger and larger grew the coming camel and his towering rider. and his towering rider. Presently Osman noticed that the high heap which, with its attendant shadow, glided so swiftly over the smooth, noiseless sand, seemed to sunder into a second dromedary led by the Arab on that side which was hidden from Osman's eyes by the camel on which the rider sat. Then Osman fancied that the led camel resembled his own beast. Then at last the heap became quite distinct, and halted just by the kneeling Osman.

On the one animal sat a swarthy Bedouin Arab, in the white burnouse of the desert; and the beast which he led was-Osman's own dromedary.

Silently the grave son of the desert descended and hobbled the two camels. Then he turned to Osman and said, "Osman of Gaza, son of Ahmed, thou art at peace with our tribe, and it is well with thee. Lo! I bring thee thy heirie, and I will guide thee to-morrow to Gatieh. Eat, drink, and rest. Allah hath been gracious to thee, for thou, verily, art one of his honored ones."

So all Osman's terror and dole turned to joy and gratitude, and joy was greater even than sorrow had been. The stars

came out, large and lustrous, and night covered the desert. covered the desert. The Bedouin and Osman ate together, and lay down beside the camels. Then Osman looked up to the dark, soft, starry heavens, and repeated from the Koran, He aideth whom he will; and he is the mighty, the merciful;" and then Osman slept peacefully.

The next day the Bedouin brought Osman where he would be, to the green oasis of Gatieh; but as they journeyed on, the rescued man thought that no one thing that was laden upon his beast was of such value as THE PRAYER CARPET.-Tinsley's Magazine.

FOR the past four hundred years, some of the fairest portions of the southeast of Europe have been subject to a

race alien alike in origin, character, and religion to the other European States. With this fact, on its practical side, we

are to a certain extent familiarized by the continual recurrence of the so-called Eastern Question. We have heard much and often of the weakness, the corruption, and the decay of the Turkish Empire. Its ever-impending yet ever delayed disappearance has been constantly before the eyes of the European world. It has provided a never-failing material for diplomatic arrangements and re-arrangements, which have, however, left the problem still unsolved; it has again and again proved a disturbance to the peace of Europe, now by its apparent weakness, and the consequent aggressions of powerful neighbors; now by its reckless misgovernment and the resulting insurrections of its subject provinces. Indeed, the present position of Turkey has engrossed so much of our practical consideration, that we have perhaps ceased to wonder at the strangeness of the phenomena which Turkish history presents. We do not always realize that regions, the seats, in former ages, of Greek enterprise and civilization, and the centre for centuries of the eastern division of the Roman Empire, are held now by a race which, six hundred years ago, was a nomad horde still ranging the table lands of Asia. Nor on the other hand, perhaps, do we always bear in mind how immense a contrast between its former energy and force and its present paralysis and degradation the history of this race suggests. We shall attempt, therefore, in the following pages, not to trace the history of the Ottoman Turks forward step by step with minuteness, but, if possible, to point out some of the causes which have made that history so unique and remarkable; to explain the wonderful rapidity of their earlier successes and their recognition as an integral power of Europe; to show the inherent sources of weakness; to determine the causes which ultimately led to decrepitude and decay; and finally to advert to the wonderful vitality which, like so many of the lower organisms, it has in spite of all displayed. To this end we shall use the more concrete facts of history as the joints and framework necessary for the consistency and clearness of our subject. The migrations of races have usually followed the course of the sun, and the historian must cast his eye eastward to

discover the original domicile even of the civilized nations of Western Europe as well as of those nomad hordes which have from time to time devastated its south-eastern provinces, or penetrated to the bleak shores of the Northern Sea. High Asia has not inaptly been termed "the mother of nations," but with almost equal appropriateness it might be called the fertile parent of Western revolutions. From its widely extended table-lands there have issued, from prehistoric ages, successive irruptions of barbarous and nomadic tribes impelled from their seats by movements of new national life to the Eastward, and in their turn passing on to shock, now with less now with more momentum, to the West, and causing there some of the most remarkable crises and revolutions of history.

After the Indo-European or Aryan race had made its passage from Central Asia towards the West, depositing on its way the seeds of future civilizations, there seems to have been a pause, perhaps of centuries, in the migratory transits described above. When they recommenced, they represented the movements of a different and a less civilized race-the Turanian-and of this the most numerous as well as the most historically important division were the Turks. To this race, in all probability, belonged, though space forbids us to enter into the question here, the succession of invading tribes which, under the names of Huns, Avars, Bulgarians, Khazars, Patzinaks, and Uzi, penetrated into Europe north of the Black Sea, passed over the steppes of Southern Russia, and broke in successive waves upon the northern frontiers of the Eastern Empire.

Fierce, sometimes irresistible, however, as these invasions were, the barbarous tribes in no case founded any permanent settlements in Europe. They disappeared after a longer or a shorter period of success, sometimes all but annihilated by the hideous carnage of those barbarous battle-fields, sometimes no doubt amalgamated with the surrounding nationalities, often dispersed, and in scattered bands retracing their steps towards the north or east. while the Eastern Empire, often tottering to its foundation through the rude

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