of a barber in the neighbourhood, and being
much changed by travel, was not recognised.
Here he managed to draw the conversation, by
degrees, to the subject that so much interested
him, and learned, to his great surprise, that
his absence had been unnecessary. The dead
man that had frightened him away was one of
a band of robbers, who had been surprised by
the guard, wounded, and chased. Finding
that he could not outstrip his pursuers, he
had been seen to turn into the first open door
that appeared; and was supposed to have
drawn the bolts, and then gone to lie down and
die in the court.

"However," added the barber, maliciously,
"the young wife of the runaway was probably
delighted with the accident. Radawan was a
pompous little fool, and must have teased her
prodigiously. I am told she has several
admirers."

The barber would no doubt have said a
great deal more; but Radawan, keeping his
lips very close together, got up and walked
away. He next went into a coffee-house, where
the master told him that Ayesha was
regularly visited by a lover; that the death of
Radawan had been reported, and that a
marriage would shortly take place. The poor
husband, all the while burning with love for
his plump little wife, was sorely perplexed by
the idle stories, and many others much worse;
and seriously reflected whether it was just
in him to come to life again in that sudden
manner. Having meditated alone for an
hour or so, he resolved to disguise himself as
a beggar, and thus penetrate into his own
house. It was, perhaps, inconsistent with
his milder reflections, that he concealed a
sword under his rags; but he determined
not to use it, unless something very
abominable met his eye. In dilapidated garments
he reached the house, and managed to slip
into the court, and up-stairs into the gallery,
without being observed. Suddenly, he heard
a voice from a dark room saying, in a, tender
tone, " Wilt thou come back soon?" The
only answer seemed to be a shower of kisses.
The world became black before Radawan's
face. He laid his hand on the hilt of his
sword; and, really ferocious for the first time
in his life, prepared to rush in, and inflict
summary vengeance. He had taken the first
step, when the third maxim came to his aid,
"Think, before acting!" and he restrained
himself. Advancing cautiously, he raised the
corner of a curtain that covered the entrance
of the room, and looked in. At first he could
see nothing; but his eyes becoming
accustomed to the obscurity, he soon distinguished
his wife, a little less plump and a little paler
than of old, sitting with her baby, now a stout,
sturdy fellow, on her lap, by the side of a
black scaffolding which he knew represented
his tomb. He rushed in, revealed himself to
his plump little Ayesha, and a medley of
embracing, dancing, laughing, crying, ensued,
which it would be ridiculous to attempt to
describe. Ayesha held on by his shawl, that
he might kiss the chuckling boy for the
fiftieth time. It was a scene of intense joy.
After the perpetration of a thousand
absurdities, they were about to sit down to sup
together, when Radawan turned his face to
the East, and said,

"I thank thee, O Prophet, (whose name be
exalted), for the wisdom thou hast sent me
by thy servant, Abou Kasim."

More kisses, more hugging of the boy; and
they sate down to sup. Radawan broke the
loaf given by Abou Kasim; and, lo! precious
stones of immense value fell from it.

THE MAY FESTIVAL AT STARNBERG.

This year the May Festival in Starnberg has
been especially attractive to the good people
of Munich, on account of a little steamer which
was launched that day on the lake, and
taking its first trip; and here, in Bavaria, you
must please to remember, steamers are not so
rife by any means as on the Thames. We
had heard terrible accounts of the crowds
who would throng Starnberg, so that it would
be impossible to get any conveyance thither,
or any conveyance back, to say nothing of
the impossibility of finding food there, if one
did arrive in Starnberg, or accommodation for
the night, if one found no means of departing
again. For were not King Max, and the
young Queen, and all their court to be there,
to sail in the steamer, to witness the
illuminations, and then hold a court-ball? and were
not the artists going to hold their May
Festival? and were not all the gentlefolks, as
well as all the common folks of Munich, to be
in Starnberg? and were not all the peasants
of the neighbourhood to be there too? And
was there not to be music on all hands, and a
regatta, and a ball for all those who did not
go to the court-ball? And had not people, for
weeks beforehand, hired all the fiacres and
carriages to let in Munich? and were not all
the places taken days beforehand in all the
omnibuses even?— There was a delightful
prospect!— Various of my acquaintance,
German and English, I found, had given up
all idea of going— they said "the grapes were
sour." The more hopeless seemed my case,
the more determined I was to go. My good
friends the Grunens, I understood, were going
with a large party of very fine folks, who
lived during the summer in an old castle
near Starnberg; and at this old castle they
were to pass the night. The happy Grunens!
Relating my desolate condition to Mr. Gruuen,
however, to my surprise, I found, after all,
they were not going with this party. Mrs.
Grunen thought "the grapes sour; " but Mr.
Grunen meant to go, and would be delighted
for us to join company. But how were we
to go?

"Oh! let us ride on horseback there,"
exclaimed I, wild with delight at the idea of