In the tenth year of his mission, Mohammed lost his uncle, Abu Taleb, who is said on his death-bed, to have repeated the profession of faith required of those who embraced Islamism. Shortly after, Kahija, to whom he was tenderly attached, also died. She was interred at Mecca; and Burckhardt tells us her tomb is still remaining,-being regularly visited by the pilgrims on Friday mornings. It is enclosed by a square wall, and presents no object of curiosity, except the tomb-stone, which has a fine inscription in Cufic characters, containing a passage from the Koran, from the chapter entitled 'Souret el Kursy.' "Mohammed subsequently married three other wives; Ayesha, daughter of Abubeker; Sawda, daughter of Saura; and Hafsa, daughter of Omar;" but none seem to have been loved by him equal to Kahija. She bore him four sons, all of whom died in their infancy; and four daughters,-Fatima, Zainab, Rokaia, and Omar Coithum,-who attained the age of maturity, and were married, as we find stated by his biographers. There was something very simple in the faith, as promulgated by Mohammed, when compared with the various creeds which were at that time taught by heretic Christians, or with the rabbinical doctrines of Judaism. He taught the unity of God; the resurrection; and a future state of reward and punishments, but he made the former consist wholly of sensual enjoyment. Islamisın, he declared, says Ockley, was not a new religion, but a restoration to its original purity of the ancient religion taught and practised by the prophets, Adam, Abraham, Moses, David, and Jesus. He did indeed purge the religion of the Arabians, which in his time was rank idolatry, from some gross abuses, as Sabæism, or the worship of the host of heaven, the worship of idols, and divination. In order however, to make his new system more acceptable to his countrymen, he retained several of their old superstitious services, such as frequent washing, the pilgrimage to Mecca, with the absurd ceremonies appendant to it, of going seven times round the Kaaba, throwing stones to drive away the devil, &c. A very simple profession was required of his disciples; it was only to declare "there is but one God," and "Mohammed is his prophet." He told his followers the most marvellous tales, and they eagerly credited them. One of these related to an ascent into the highest heaven, where he said he was taken in one night on the back of a beautiful ass, called Al-borak, and accompanied by the angel Gabriel; and the most extravagant things are told us by the Mohammedan writers, of what he saw and heard in this wonderful journey. When the story however was told to the people, which it was on the morning following the night when the ascent was alleged to have taken place, it was received with indignation and derision. Abubeker, Ayesha's father, however, vouched for its truth, and was named by Mohammed in consequence, Assadick, "the just man." Incredible as are the details; and contrary to reason and common sense as is the story of this visit to the blest abode of the Great Jehovah, it soon obtained credence, and is now implicitly believed by the followers of Islam. In the thirteenth year of his mission, an important event took place. A number of the inhabitants of Yathreb, a town some distance from Mecca, embraced Islamism, swore fealty to Mohammed, and promised to defend him from his enemies as they would their wives or their children. This league, and the power-offensive and defensive-which it gave him, seems to have alarmed the Koreishites more than anything else which had yet occurred; and they determined to assassinate him. For the execution of this project, a man was to be chosen out of each of the confederated tribes; and each of these selected assassins was to have a blow at Mohammed with his sword, "in order to divide the guilt of the deed, and to baffle the vengeance of the Hashemites; as it was supposed," (we quote from Green's "Mohammed,") "that with their inferior strength they would not dare, in the face of this powerful union, to avenge their kinsman's blood. The prophet declared that the angel Gabriel revealed to him this atrocious conspiracy;" to avoid which, he fled from Mecca, accompanied only by Abubeker, and they hid themselves in a cave at no great distance from Mecca. Their pursuers passed this cave; but, say the Mohammedan writers, "during the three days they had lain hid there, a spider had spun its web over the mouth of the cave; and a pigeon laid two eggs near it :" but those who doubt the truth of the prophet's mission, suggest, that the pigeon's nest and the spider's web were placed there by the fugitives themselves, to induce a belief that the cave was empty. However this was, the pursuers thought that no one would be within the cave, and they passed on without searching it. Mohammed and his companion got safe to Yathreb, where they met with a kind reception. They resided with one Abu Ayub, till a house was erected for them; where Mohammed continued to reside during the remainder of his life. The town, was from this time, called Medinato 'l Nabi, "the town of the prophet;" and at last "Medina," the town, by way of eminence. This event is called "The Hejira," or Flight; it is generally supposed to have taken place on the 16th of July, A.D. 622; and it is the æra from which the Mussulmans date all their transactions. (To be continued.) It may be proper to observe, that, consulting Mills, Green, Prideaux, and other writers, Ockley's "History of the Saracens," forms the main authority for these papers. FLORA MAY. By W. S. PASSMORE. In years byegone there bloomed a maid, No sweeter flow'r adorned the glade, I woo'd and won that heavenly prize The fondness of her beaming eyes, And thus we loving lived till, lo! Brighton. THE GOLDEN PASSION. BY GEORGE HOOD. THE extreme passion for money is perhaps the most singular that ever emanated from the breast of man. Other passions may be well defined, and reasonably accounted for; but who can explain, or account for, the miser's love for his gold? The ardour of the lover for his mistress,-expressed it may be in an amorous song or sonnet,-proceeds from a hope of mutual benefit. The Bibliopole, who never sees a new book without a desire to possess it,-who could, if it were possible, devour whole libraries at a glance, expects to receive wisdom and instruction from his volumes. In his love for time-worn manuscripts, his passion for coins of an ancient mould and date, the antiquary frequently lights on a useful object ;-his hoarded antiquities show the progressive improvements of the world. But the love of money, an avaricious love, we mean, hath this peculiarity, that it extends to an object which may neither benefit, or rejoice its possessor. The miser makes no use of his money. Day after day, and year after year, he accumulates vast sums heap upon heap, and figure added to figure; and yet he never knows its true value, he possesses, yet enjoys it not. These sums, it may be said, will surely become of use to some one, after his death, or otherwise. But this is a mere evasion.-Does the money thus hoarded profit or impart pleasure to its present possessor? No: it does not. He will not allow it to do so. His gold, which remains in his own keeping, neither feeds, warms, or clothes him. The true miser denies himself the comforts, nay the very necessaries of life, that he may increase his stores. Enter his house,--it is neatly and carefully kept,—every article in its proper place, and yet, somehow, there is a want of comfort about it. The fire slumbers on the hearth, it is too expensive to disturb it, it may also damage the furniture.-The carpets are not laid down in certain rooms since they are seen to be worn.—The lights are reduced to the lowest ebb consistent with seeing. Mark the miser man himself,-his lean and meagre aspect, -his face clothed with a perpetual grin,-his cheeks yellowhued like his gold, and his chuckle seemingly tuned to its clink. He is a walking spectre, the shadow of a man. Who ever heard of, or saw, a stout, goodly-conditioned and com plexioned miser? If such could be found, he would form a natural wonder, a genuine curiosity. To hear him give a hearty laugh, would upset at once our long formed and deeply cherished notions of the world. Charles Lamb, in his usual facetious way, represents the accumulation of money to be, "a grand attempt to keep poverty at a sublime distance." Not so, shade of Elia.-To the avaricious man, his riches are the chief source of his poverty. They steep him to the very lips in it. If he had not been so rich, he had not been so poor. The richer he grows, the poorer he becomes. He is rich, he has amassed large sums of money, and yet there is no man so utterly and wretchedly poor. Gold can accomplish many things in this world, and "Mammon wins its way where seraphs may despair." But for, or on behalf of the extreme miser, his riches,-the idol of his heart,-the centre of his hopes, fears, joys, loves, and thoughts, can absolutely do nothing. 66 The accumulation of money cannot even afford the miser decent, or unalloyed pleasure. He may be called upon at times to part with it, and he does so with exquisite pain. If, on such occasions the sighs and groans of his soul were audible, they would sound as deep and mournful as those he might utter during the amputation (chloroform not used, as too expensive) of a limb. Every guinea goes from him like a drop of his heart's best blood. "Who steals my purse,,' says Shakespeare, boldly, "steals trash." Nay," cries the miser," he steals my all, rather let him take anything, everything else." His avarice becomes the fruitful motto of a brood of horrors. The fear of loss,-the depression of trade, -a panic among the stocks,-the midnight robber, the selfish friend, the faithless servant,-the thoughts of these, with those also of grim, ghastly, unsparing death, stretch his mind on an imaginary tormenting rack. They haunt his night-visions causing him to see itching skeleton hands straining at his purse strings, or exploring his chests. Of all men living the miser is most miserable. All men have their passions; and their weaknesses, some criminal, some trivial, and some which may be said to be respectable foibles. But avarice is not a gentlemanly or respectable foible. With some it becomes an insanity, a moral obliquity, a perversion of judgment and taste, a misapprehension of money, and its uses, a misbelief in God's providence and the destiny |