The Waverley novels, by Sir Walter Scott, complete in 12 vol., printed from the latest English ed., embracing the author's last corrections, prefaces & notes.

533 WAVERLEY NOVELS.
C6fptr tht'hurttr t4t.'Twas the hour when rites unholy
Call'd each Paynim voice to prayer,
And the star that faded slowly,
Left to dews the freshened air.
Day his sultry fires had wasted,
Calm and cool the moonbeams shone;
To the Vizier's lofty palace
One bold Christian came alone.
THOMAS CAMPBELL. Quotedfrom memory.
THE twilight darkened into night so fast, that it was only by his white
dress that Hartley could discern his guide, as he tripped along the splendid
Bazaar of the city. But the obscurity was so far favourable, that it prevented the inconvenient attention which the natives might otherwise have
bestowed upon the European in his native dress, a sight at that time very
rare in Seringapatam.
The various turnings and windings through which he was conducted,
ended at a small door in a wall, which, from the branches that hung over
it, seemed to surround a garden or grove.
The postern opened on a tap from his guide, and the slave having entered,
Hartley prepared to follow, but stepped back as a gigantic African brandished at his head a scimetar three fingers broad. The young slave touched
his countryman with a rod which he held in his hand, and it seemed as if
the touch disabled the giant, whose arm and weapon sunk instantly.
Hartley entered without farther opposition, and was now in a grove of
mango-trees, through which an infant moon was twinkling faintly amid the
murmur of waters, the sweet song of the nightingale, and the odours of the
rose, yellow jasmine, orange and citron flowers, and Persian narcissus.
Huge domes and arches, which were seen imperfectly in the quivering light,
seemed to intimate the neighbourhood of some sacred edifice, where the
Fakir had doubtless taken up his residence.
Hartley pressed on with as much haste as he could, and entered a sidedoor and narrow vaulted passage, at the end of which was another door.
Here his guide stopped, but pointed and made indications that the European
should enter. Hartley did so, and found himself in a small cell, such as
we have formerly described, wherein sate Barak el Hadgi, with another
Fakir, who, to judge from the extreme dignity of a white beard, which
ascended up to his eyes on each side, must be a man of great sanctity, as
well as importance.
Hartley pronounced the usual salutation of Salam Alaikum in the most
modest and deferential tone; but his former friend was so far firom responding in their former strain of intimacy, that, having consulted the eye of his
older companion, he barely pointed to a third carpet, upon which the
stranger seated himself cross-legged, after the country fashion, and a profound silence prevailed for the space of several minutes. Hartley knew
the Oriental customs too well to endanger the success of his suit by precipitation. Ie waited an intimation to speak. At length it came, and fiom
Barak.
" When the pilgrim Barak," he said, "dwelt at Madras, he had eyes and
a tongue; but now he is guided by those of his father, the holy Scheik Hali
ben Khaledoun, the superior of his convent."
This extreme humility Hartley thought inconsistent with the affectation
of possessing superior influence, which Barak had shown while at the Presidency; but exaggeration of their own consequence is a foible common to