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white man, if ever he entered Logan's cabin hungry, and he gave him not to eat ; if ever he came cold and naked, and he clothed him not. During the course of the last long and bloody war, Logan remained idle in his cabin, an advocate for peace. Such was my love for the whites, that my countrymen pointed as they passed, and said, 'Logan is the friend of white men.' I have even thought to have lived with you, but for the injuries of one man. Colonel Cresap, the last spring, in cold blood murdered all the relations of Logan, even my women and children. There runs not a drop of my blood in the veins of any living creature. This called on me for revenge. I have fought for it. I have killed many. I have fully glutted my vengeance. For my country, I rejoice at the beams of peace; but do not harbour a thought that mine is the joy of fear. Logan never felt fear. He will not turn on his heel to save his life. Who is there to mourn for Logan? Not one!" Jefferson's Notes on Virginia.

The above affecting speech has thus been imitated by Campbell in his Gertrude of Wyoming.

Scorning to wield the hatchet for his bribe,
'Gainst Brandt himself I went to battle forth;
Detested Brandt; he left, of all my tribe,
Nor man, nor child, nor thing of living birth;

No! not the dog, that watch'd my household hearth,
Escap'd that night of blood, upon our plains!

All perish'd!-I alone am left on earth!

To whom nor relative, nor blood remains,

No!-not a kindred drop, that runs in human veins.

MANNERS OF THE TURKS AT ALEPPO, IN THE MIDDLE OF THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY.

As soon as the Turks get out of bed, they smoke a pipe, and drink a small dish of coffee. About an hour afterwards breakfast is served up, consisting of bread, fruit, honey, a preparation of milk called leban, cheese, eggs, or cakes made with butter. The people of distinction either sit at home after breakfast to receive

company, or go abroad themselves to make visits. When they go abroad, not having the conveniency of wheel-carriages, they ride on horseback, attended by two or four pages, walking on each side. The horse is gorgeously decked. The furniture, which reaches almost to the ground, is richly embroidered, or studded with silver: the bridle is ornamented with chains of plain or gilt silver, and silk fringes covering the head and part of the horse's neck, in the manner of a net. A plain or gilt poitrel of massy silver, with a boss and rich fringes hanging from the side, cover the breast. All these ornaments are finely worked, and sometimes enriched with precious stones. The saddle is of crimson velvet, plated behind with silver, and the stirrups are of solid silver. A scimitar, on the blade of which some verse from the Koran is usually inscribed, is girt on the left side of the saddle; and, on the right, a short warlike weapon, resembling a mace; the head of this, and the hilt of the scimitar, are of worked silver, sometimes gilt. The horses are excellently broken, and walk gracefully; so that the Turks, who are in general taught early to ride, make a noble appearance on horseback. From the outer gate, where they dismount, they walk in their boots (their train being borne) to the door of the apartment, and there have them drawn off by a page, who carries the babooge (or slippers), wrapped up in a piece of scarlet cloth.-A bashaw rises from his seat, on the entrance of some of the principal personages, but receives all other visiters sitting. Other persons of distinction usually rise to welcome or bid farewell to their guests. As soon as the visiter has taken his place, a string of pages make their appearance, preceded by an officer (called Kahwagee), distinguished by a large silk apron, who carries a round salver, covered with red cloth, in the middle of which salver is placed a coffeepot, surrounded with half a dozen small cups reversed. The first page, carrying a large silk or embroidered napkin, drops down on his knees, and, resting on his hams, spreads the napkin over the stranger's robe, so as to prevent it being accidentally soiled. A second, in the same attitude, presents the sweetmeat in a crystal cup, together with a small spoon, with

which the guest helps himself. A third, having received a cup from the Kahwagee, stands ready with the coffee; he does not kneel, but stooping gently forward, first lowering then quickly advancing the hand, delivers the cup, with a dexterity to be acquired only by practice. A fourth brings the lighted pipe, and first laying down an utensil (called niffada) for preserving the carpet, upon which the bowl of the pipe is placed, he presents the other end of the pipe, by an easy movement of one arm, while the other hand is placed on the breast. The moment the coffee is finished, a page is ready to receive the empty cup, which he catches, as it were, between both hands, the left palm turned up: another page, kneeling also, removes the napkin, and, the coffee-cup being replaced on the salver, the Kahwagee retires, while the pages, one hand laid on the girdle and crossed by the other, in the attitude of humble attendance, remain at a little distance.-On ceremonial days, on which there is a constant succession of visiters, the pages themselves know the proper time to present the perfume, and bring it without orders from the master; but, at other times, they wait till the guest lays down his pipe, or makes a signal to one of them to take it away. The pipe and niffada are then removed, and, after a little pause, the pages again enter in procession. One spreads a napkin of a different colour from the former; another presents a small bason of sherbet, and holds, displayed in the other hand, an embroidered gauze handkerchief, for drying the lips; a third sprinkles the hands with rose or orange-flower water, from a silver vessel with a long neck. The napkin being then removed, one of the pages brings a silver censer to the master of the house; who, taking from his pocket a small box containing aloes-wood cut into small pieces, either gives a bit to be laid on the live coal, or puts it himself into the censer. This is the last part of the ceremonial; for the visiter, as soon as he has been perfumed, takes leave. At the door he is received by his own pages, and, after putting on his boots, he walks away between two rows of officers of the household, who bow to him as he passes.-If the visiter be a person of very high rank, the host attends him to the top of

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the stairs. On particular occasions, the visiter is presented with a horse, sometimes in rich furniture, but, for the most part, in a body-cloth only. It is more usual to make a present of a fur; and then the person is invested in the Bashaw's presence, the Chauses (a particular class of officers), at the instant of investment, pronouncing a short benediction in a loud voice.-At visits of mere ceremony, the conversation is made up of empty professions and compliments often repeated. These are generally composed in a hyperbolical strain, and expressed with much solemnity. The question "How do you do?" is repeated several times; and, after a long pause, they begin anew, " And, once more, how do you do?" The next question after this is, "What news? how goes the world?" and the like. Conversation, at ordinary visits, is less fettered by forms. Besides the weather and other common topics, domestic news is circulated, diverting stories are familiarly told; and, if the great man seem to give en couragement, some of his guests now and then exert their talents for raillery. When he is disposed to converse, the discourse is addressed to him; but otherwise the company entertain one another, and he either joins them at intervals, or continues musing, as inclination may lead him; sometimes, indeed, a deep silence reigns, and, after the first compliments, hardly a word is spoken during the whole visit. As the Grandees sit so many hours in public, and receive all company, it is necessary they should be indulged in the privilege of leaving the guests to entertain themselves; but business, in the meanwhile, is not neglected; the officers, and others who have affairs to transact, come and go, without interrupting conversation, and either talk aloud, or, kneeling down before the great man, speak so low as not to be heard by any one else. Private business of more importance is transacted at times when no visiters are admitted. The Bashaw regularly gives audience of this kind to his first minister between three and four afternoon, and then all persons whatever are excluded. Russell.

TURKISH MANNERS-CONTINUED.

THE Turks go to dinner about eleven o'clock in winter, but in summer somewhat earlier. is prepared in the following manner.

The table A round cloth

is spread for the preservation of the carpet, and upon that is either placed a folding stand (resembling in form the crosses used at European tables), or a small stool about fifteen inches high, which serves to support a large round plate or table, sometimes of silver, but commonly only of copper tinned. Upon this a few saucers are symmetrically disposed, containing pickles, salad, leban, and salt: and all round, nearer the edge, are laid thin narrow cakes of very white bread, and wooden or tortoise-shell spoons. They do not use table-knives and forks, their fingers serving instead of them; and the roast-meat is usually so much done, that it can easily be torn asunder, or is carved by one of the attendants with his knife or hanjer. Each guest then helps himself, and, if the morsel happens to be too large, the cakes of bread supply the place of plates. A silk and cotton towel, long enough to surround the table, is laid on the ground, which the guests when seated take up over their knees. After the table is thus prepared, a silver ewer and bason, for washing the hands, is brought round to the guests; who, laying aside their outer garment in the summer, or the large fur in the winter, take their places, and sit all the while on their hams and heels; a posture insufferably irksome to those who have not been early accustomed to it; and, to many elderly men, so uneasy, that they either sit on the edge of the mattress, or are indulged with a cushion reversed. It is customary for each person to say a short grace for himself in a low voice. The dishes are brought up covered, and set down in the middle of the table, one at a time in succession, the whole amounting to twenty or thirty; and the same service is repeated with little variation every day. The first dish is almost constantly soup, and the last a plain pilaw of rice and butter. The intermediate

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