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used boiled with equal parts of sugar and water. Horses are given haschish leaves on festival occasions to make them spirited. The use of the haschish, in one shape or other, appears to be very general in all parts of the Algerian territory.

A word on the former mode of administering justice in Algiers. The Koran has of course the only code of laws. The mufti is the interpreter of the Koran. The kadi was judge and enforcer of the law's penalties. From his decisions appeals were made to the Dey, who sat all day to hear petitions, and who, in the general manner of Mohammedan petition-hearers, decided on the spur of the moment. In civil processes justice was sometimes excessively blind-the ante-prandial decisions of the kadis, often sentencing both the contending parties to the bastinado as the shortest and perhaps justest way of deciding a knotty point. Criminal cases were promptly and summarily dealt with. For murder, death. For robbery, the robber was mounted upon an ass and had one hand cut off. Conspirators were bow-stringed. Bankrupts, if Christians, shared the same fate; if Jews, they were burned. Tribes and districts were held collectively answerable for crimes committed within their bounds. Debtors, if refusing to pay, were confined, their goods sold, and after one hundred days they were flogged and released. If willing to pay at the end of a suit, the debtor had to pay double. If much injustice was done | by this summary mode of dealing with culprits, it is plain that among a rude people the terror of the law would often prove a valuable restraint from vexatious litigation.

Come we now to the Kabyles, the mountaineers, the most remarkable people of that country. These are the aboriginals of Algeria. They are spoken of by the Roman historians, and seem to retain to this day the same leading characteristics which distinguished them then. "They have neither any fear of God nor respect for man," says Procopius, "nor do they pay any regard to their oath. Lastly, they have no peace with any one, save with those who coerce them through fear."

The Kabyles delight in a settled rather than nomadic life. They live in small communities or villages. Their houses are built of rough stones, turf, or mud, and are generally not more than one or two stories high. The people are fairer than the Arabs of the desert. The dress of the men is a rude woolen shirt, falling below the knees, and called a chelouchah. The legs are protected by footless stockings, knitted of stout wool, and called bougherons. When at work the Kabyle man wears a leather apron.

When he goes out he throws over his shoulders a rough burnoose.

The Kabyle woman enjoys much greater liberty than among any other of the Algerian tribes. She attends the market, makes purchases for her household, goes every-where with her face uncovered, talks, sings, and moves in the company of the men of her household as freely as do the women of Christian nations. It has been supposed that this freedom of the women, so contrary to the rules of all other Mohammedans, is a relic of former Christian influence. In support of this it is mentioned that all Kabyle women have tattooed on their foreheads a cross. And, furthermore, although they can not give any account of the origin of this custom, no marabout or priest will marry a Kabyle woman till she has erased this mark; for which purpose an application of lime and black soap is made

use of.

The Kabyles never wear hat or shoe. Not even when they enter the Moorish cities do they break through this habit of going about barefooted and bareheaded. The Kabyle is an intensely-industrious man. He scorns idleness as effeminate, and applies himself energetically and constantly to whatever may be his chosen pursuit. As agriculturists the Kabyle tribes are far advanced, cultivating a great variety of grains and fruits. They manufacture, too, their own agricultural implements, arms, gunpowder, carpets, leather for aprons, saddles, frames for weaving, etc. The women wear the haieks or gowns, and chachias or white caps which they wear, as also the burnooses and habayas of the men. The men make tiles and all manner of rude earthenware. They weave table-cloths of the dwarf-palm fiber, make baskets in which to carry loads, and spin cords of goats' hair, and, most singular of all their various branches of industry, they manufacture counterfeit coin.

Two tribes in particular have for many years followed this business almost exclusively. The metals used are obtained in part from mines in the country, and partly imported from a distance, the importations being paid for in counterfeit coin at the rate of about twenty-five per cent. of its value, allowing the traders to make again a large per centage. Of course it was never permitted any one to pass the spurious coin within the Kabyle territory. Attempts to do this were mercilessly punished. So greatly did the Kabyle money increase, and so troublesome had it become in all the large towns of Algeria, in 1844, that an Arab emir caused all the Kabyles of tribes known to practice counterfeiting to be arrested, on the same day, in the three markets of Algiers, Constantina, and Bona. About one

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The Kabyle, though not easily roused to anger, is the most ferocious of mortals when once his rage gets the upperhand. He is punctilious in the observance of customary acts of politeness; but equally punctilious in demanding their acknowledgment. And revenge is to him a sacred obligation.

It is customary to kiss the head and the hand of a chief or old man as a salutation. But whatever be the age or rank of the person, he is bound instantly to return the salute. Si-SaidAbbas, a marabout of the Beni-Haffif, was one day in the market of the Beni-Ourtilan. A Kabyle called Ben-Zeddam approached and kissed his hand; but the marabout, no doubt not thinking about it, did not return the salutation. "By the sins of my wife," said Ben-Zeddam, who placed himself in front of Si-Said with his gun in his haud, "thou shalt instantly return me what I gave thee, or thou art a dead man. And the marabout performed the act.

A man of the tribe of the Beni-Yala met, at the market of Guenzate, another Kabyle, who owed him a barra. He reclaimed his debt. "I will not give thee thy barra," replied the debtor. "And why?" "I do not know." "If thou hast no money, I will wait still." "I have some-but it's a kind of whim which has taken hold of me not to pay thee." At these words the creditor, quite furious, seized the other by his burnoose and threw him on the ground. The neighbors joined in the struggle. Two parties were soon formed, and they had recourse to arms. From 1 o'clock till 7 in the evening it was impossible to separate the combatants; forty-five men were killed, and all for less than one cent! This quarrel happened in 1843; but the war which was kindled through it is not yet extinguished. The town has since been divided into two hostile quarters, and the houses which stood on the frontier are now deserted.

When a man has been assassinated and leaves a widow and child, this child is religiously trained up to revenge its father's death. If a son, when grown to man's estate, the mother hands him a gun, tells him the assassin's name and tribe, and says, "Go, revenge your father; return not till it

is done." If the child is a daughter, the mother proclaims publicly that he who desires to wed her need not pay the customary price-the Kabyle buys his wife-but must take upon himself the sacred obligation of revenge. Thus an assassin is almost sure to pay the penalty of life for his deed.

When a marriage is celebrated among the Kabyles, the relations or friends of the bridegroom shoot at a target. The mark is generally an egg, a pepper-corn, or a flat stone. This custom causes a great deal of gayety, for those who miss the mark are subject to much joking. When a Kabyle wants to marry, he informs one of his friends, who seeks the father of the girl of his choice, and makes known the desire. They fix the marriage portion which will be paid by the husband; for he literally buys his wife, and a great number of girls is considered to constitute the wealth of the house. These portions amount to upward of a hundred douros-$125. It sometimes happens that the future husband does not possess the entire sum; he is then granted a month or two to collect it, and during that time he visit the house of his future wife. When he has succeeded, he leads her, as his fiancée, first through the village, armed with a yatagan, a gun, and a pair of pistols; after which he takes her under his own roof. This ceremony is performed with great pomp. Each village has its band, composed of two kinds of Turkish clarionets and drums; and these musicians figure in the nuptial cortege. They sing as they go, and the women and children make the air resound with their joyous cries, "You! you! you!" They fire a number of guns; and the young people of the village, all or a part of them, according to the wealth of the husband, are invited to a great repast.

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With all their ferocity the Kabyles are the most truly hospitable and the most charitable of all the Algerian tribes. The institutions called zouaias, which unite in themselves the qualities of free schools, free auberges, and public dispensers of charities to the needy, are peculiar to the people. Every zaouia is composed of a mosque; a dome-koubba-which covers the tomb of the marabout whose name it bears; of a place where they read the Koran; of a second, reserved for the study of sciences; a third, serving as a primary school for children; of a habitation destined for the pupils and tolbas, who come to perform or perfect their studies; also of another dwelling in which they receive beggars and strangers; and sometimes there is a cemetery at hand, designed for pious persons who may have solicited permission to lie near the marabout. Every man, rich or poor, known or

unknown in the country, who presents himself at the door of any zaouia, is received and provided for during three days. No one can be refused; no example of any refusal of this kind is on record. The people of the zaouia, strangely enough, never take their meals, either morning or evening, without being first assured that their guests have had all their wants satisfied. The principle of hospitality extends even to such childish lengths, that if a horse or mule has wandered, and arrives by chance without conductor, it is always received, installed, and fed, till the owner reclaims it.

Another peculiar custom is the anaya-a protection or safeguard which every, even the meanest, Kabyle has the power to extend to a friend, and which is never broken, and thus proves the safest of safe conducts from tribe to tribe. A protection so powerful is granted, however, but very reluctantly. They limit it to their friends; they accord it once only to the fugitive; they regard it as a counterfeit if it has been sold, and they punish with death the usurped declara

tion.

In order to avoid this last fraud, and at the same time to prevent all involuntary infraction, the anaya manifests itself generally by an ostensible sign. The man who confers it delivers

as a proof of his support any object that is well known as having belonged to him, such as his gun or his stick; he often sends one of his servants, and he himself will not unfrequently escort his protégé, if he has any particular motives for suspecting that the latter will be annoyed. A Kabyle has nothing more at heart than the inviolability of his anaya; not only does he attach to it his own individual point of honor, but that of his parents, his friends, his village, his entire tribe, answer also morally for it. A man who would not find a second to aid him to take vengeance for a personal injury, could raise all his compatriots, if there were a question about his anaya not being recognized.

The friend of a Kabyle once presented himself at his dwelling to ask for the anaya. In the absence of the master, the woman, rather embarrassed, gave to the fugitive a dog very well known in the country, and the man started with this token of safety. But the dog soon returned alone, and covered with blood. The zouaoua was greatly troubled; the people of the village assembled, they followed traces of the animal, and discovered the dead body of the traveler. War was declared with the tribe in whose territory the crime was committed; much blood was shed; and the village compromised in this quarrel still bears the characteristic name of village of the dog. The anaya attaches itself also to a

more general order of ideas. An individual who is either weak or persecuted, or under the stroke of some pressing danger, invokes the protection of the first Kabyle he meets. He does not know him, nor is he known himself-he has met his protector by chance; but this is of no consequence, for his prayer will be rarely rejected. The mountaineer, delighted to exercise his patronage, willingly grants this accidental anaya. Women invested with the same privilege, and naturally compassionate, seldom refuse to make use of it. They cite the case of a woman who saw the murderer of her own husband about to be butchered by her brothers. The wretched man, struck with many blows, and struggling on the ground, managed to catch hold of her foot, crying out, "I claim thy anaya!" Whereupon the widow threw her vail over him, and the avengers let him go.

Such are the people whom the French have conquered but not yet subdued; who, longer than any other tribes of Algeria, maintained their liberty and resisted the encroachments of the stranger; and who, if we may believe recent statements, will never cease troubling the invaders-houseless and homeless though they now be-till the nation become extinct. They are the freemen of the Atlas.

WAITING.

BY LYDIA J. CARPENTER.

I LINGERED long in the gloaming,

But my heart was waiting still For the lightsome tread of the fairy feet, And the welcoming words so low and sweet, That should still my heart's deep yearning.

When the moon's soft rays were gleaming,
I was listening, watching still,
For the girlish laugh with its gleeful ring,
As forth from the shadows she'd gayly spring,
And chide me for idly dreaming.

On the wealth of her golden hair

I knew I should press soft kisses; And I thought how this moonlight's tender gleam Would love to flit o'er its golden sheen, And waken the beautiful there.

Ah! little I thought that the summer winds
Were whispering o'er her grave:
They had sung her requiem, sad and sweet,
They had wooed the violets at her feet,
The flowers she had loved to tend.

Though far away from my childhood's home, A restless wanderer still,

I can see the spot where my darling lays, I can wait with patience these weary days, Till the summons for me shall come.

EDITOR'S REPOSITORY.

Scripture Cabinet.

[The following philosophical and practical view of our Lord's temptation is from the pen of Dr. Curry. We commend its study to the Christian reader.-ED.]

bly from other young persons. That he was harmless, obedient, affectionate, and devout, is more than probable-and so in their degree have other children

their imperfect goodness might easily escape ordinary observation. Even Joseph, his faithful foster-father, seems to have almost forgotten the strange facts attending the early history of the child, and to have come at length to think of the gentle child and amiable youth and young man as his own son; while his mother's deeper interest in these things, as well as her more spiritual nature, caused her to ponder them in her heart, and often to ask herself, with more than an ordinary mother's solicitude, as she dandled him at her knee, or led him by the hand, or in later years communed with his expanding soul what manner of person he should become.

THE TEMPTATION OF JESUS.-Every thing respect-been-and the difference between his perfect and ing either the person or the history of the Savior is, to the Christian, both interesting and instructive. It is profitable, by frequent and devout meditation, to familiarize ourselves with the facts of that history, for such are the excellences illustrated by them, that while they incite to all kinds and degrees of virtue, familiarity with them can never detract from their dignity. As to our modes of considering this subject, we have suspected that there is a fault in the prevailing forms of thought. The humanity of Christ is confessed in form, but at the same time practically, almost wholly ignored. A celebrated but erratic preacher recently avowed his disbelief of the proper humanity of the Savior, ascribing to him only a physical manhood; and this crude and repulsive heresy excites but little surprise and scarcely calls forth a protest from any quarter-so nearly does it harmonize with the popular thinking. But, in our view of the case, the doctrine of the manhood of Jesus is a most interesting and important element of the Gospel system. It brings him nearer to us, and assures us of his care for us, and of his adaptation to his office-work, as no other form of assurance can do it.

We propose in this paper to consider Christ's temptation, as detailed to us by the evangelists, that we may gather from the subject the lessons of duty it is so well adapted to teach, and that we may be enabled the more adequately to appreciate the greatness of the work of our redemption, as seen in his conflicts with the powers of darkness, and in the fact that in that work the Savior was himself made "perfect through suffering." The views of Christ's work and of his person here presented, are believed to be entirely Scriptural, and also useful in bringing "the world's Redeemer" within the range of our human sympathies.

The early life of Jesus Christ-that is, his whole earthly lifetime previous to his entrance upon his public ministry-at once proves and illustrates his humanity. He there stands before us as a man-a proper, real, and natural human being, evincing his manhood by the same signs that others show, by which we know them to be really men. We have no right to suppose that there was any thing in the appearance or manners of the child and youth in the family of the carpenter of Nazareth, to lead the casual observer to suspect that he differed considera

O what a woman's heart was hers! What a holy faith animated the virgin of Bethlehem! What wonderful fidelity was that of Mary, the wife of Joseph of Nazareth, and the mother of Jesus! The world of mankind owes to her an untold and incalculable debt of gratitude. Originally nearer to us than was her wonderful Son, since, while he of himself "knew no sin," she, like all her kindred of Adam's race, was "shapen in iniquity," yet was she raised by grace to an exalted position in the scheme of the world's redemption, and by the same grace was she made equal to her great responsibility. Rejecting most earnestly the senseless and mischievous dogma of the "Immaculate Conception," lately added to the so-called Catholic faith, and condemning as profane and idolatrous the worship addressed to her, we still claim the highest place among redeemed sinners for her who bore, and nourished, and, to a large degree, educated the Redeemer of mankind. Chosen of God for that high and holy work, she was also endowed by him with all the requisite qualifications for its accomplishment. And though, as is usually the case with those whom God especially honors, hers was a lot of peculiar trials from the day of the angel's salutation to that on which the sword entered her own soul, as she stood near the cross on which her Son was suffering, yet did she prove equal to every emergency, and in proportion as she was tested did she evince her wonderful virtues.

Into the hands and to the guardianship and direction of such a mother did infinite Wisdom commit the future Redeemer of a ruined world. That child was to be educated for his great mission. His mind was to be developed and furnished, and his character fashioned by a salutary discipline. Soon was he to

awake to self-consciousness, to receive instruction through the senses, and by his reason to become cognizant of his relations and of the duties and responsibilities imposed by them. Education is largely affected by the circumstances among which its subject is placed or rather, these themselves become effective educators of the susceptible souls that move among them. But even these things, in his case, were not left to the disposition of accidents. Divine Providence prepared the school in which the appointed Restorer of mankind was to be instructed, and arranged all its conditions for the furtherance of that infinitely-important design. In the process of his education Jesus necessarily encountered temptations. These arise and beset us in the ordinary course of things-in childhood, in youth, and especially at the period of opening manhood, when the buoyant soul looks out upon the untried world and feels itself strangely impelled to mingle in its turmoils and dangers. So Jesus, in all the varying stages of life, was tempted in all points like unto us. At this point we will pause to inquire and fix in our minds more precisely the proper notion of temptation. There is danger that, while entertaining some idea of what the word means, our conceptions of it may be shadowy and indistinct. Were we called to define it in precise terms we would say that temptation is any incitement by which one may be led to sin. This definition allows a very wide range to this dreadful influence. Whatever acts upon men's minds while in the process of education-which in some degree extends over the whole lifetime-inciting them to action, may become the occasion of misdirection or excess; and in these are the first forms of wrong-doing detected. All the affairs of life are thus, in a modified form, agents or occasions of temptation; and because these are ordered by Providence, temptations are sometimes ascribed to God himself. But beyond these a direct diabolical agency is fully recognized in Scripture, and "the tempter" is brought before us as a veritable personality, operating upon men's minds and inclining them to sin. In this there is an obvious and steady implication of the power of pure spiritual natures to act upon each other without the intervention of the senses; and the facts of the case make it evident that the point of collision at which spirit impresses spirit lies outside of the range of the consciousness. Hence, sensible manifestations are not the usual accompaniments of diabolical temptations, nor do they when detected in the mind appear as if injected from without, but rather as the spontaneous suggestions of the soul itself. We are tempted when we are "drawn away by our own lusts and enticed," because by means of these the adversary seeks to lead us into sin. It is not necessary to determine the question whether or not there was any outward manifestation of the tempter to the Savior at the time of the temptation in the wilderness, and on the temple. The greatness of the occasion might seem to justify the presumption that there was, while the apparently-studied care with which the conditions of Christ's temptations were conformed to those suffered by his brethren, renders it more probable that the whole process was internal, and to the consciousness subjective.

Transgressions are of two kinds, so widely different in their conditions as to require to be clearly distinguished. The first arises from the indulgence of positively-wicked desires, passions, and impulses. That all depraved and fallen ones should be thus tempted may be expected, and with mankind it is matter of a sad and universal experience. All men feel the uprisings of impure lusts, unholy passions, and vicious propensities; and of these the adversary takes hold to incite us to sin against God. But as this supposes a corrupt state of the heart, we must conclude that Jesus-at least in his own personal relations-was not so tempted. Nor can any unfallen soul be so tempted; and it is plain that Adam's first offense was not the indulgence of a vicious passion, but the preference of a lower to a higher virtue. The second class consists in the gratification of desires, good in themselves, or at least indifferent, without due regard to the better claims of more authoritative and incompatible duties. A just subordination of our hearts' impulses is the great practical end of selfdiscipline; its complete and habitual attainment is the perfection of the human character. In every case the highest and most sacred obligation is the only duty for that case; and then the indulgence of any impulse aside from that first duty, however good in itself, is a sin. Now, it is manifestly possible that a pure and holy nature, with a limited range of perceptions and with habits of self-direction but partially formed, should, by diabolical impulses and for want of due circumspection, prefer the less to the greater and so fall into sin. Thus Eve wishing to please her taste, and to become wise and great, and Adam drawn by his love for the wife that God had given him, each subordinated their higher duties to love and obey God to these good but inferior desires, and in this was their sin. Evidently only temptations of the latter class could, in the ordinary course of things, affect the soul of that "holy thing" who was by divine authority called "the Son of God"though some believe that in a mysterious mode, under divine ordination, Jesus as man's Redeemer was subjected to the most direct diabolical assaults, impelling him toward sin as sin; and that he thus became personally conversant with the spiritual conflicts of those for whom he undertook his course of redemptive sufferings.

Each position in life has its peculiar temptations. Every change in our affairs, though necessary or aecidental, brings with it new conflicts and dangers; and since our lives are but a succession of changes, our temptations are perpetually varied, and our conflicts terminate only at our lives' end. The important changes that occur in rapid succession in early life bring with them many dangerous incitements, which render that period an eminently-critical one, and make it the decisive term in the moral history of almost every one. He who then overcomes the tempter, and effectually subordinates his impulses to his conscience and the law of God, in doing so gains a victory whose results will suffice to uphold him in all future emergencies; while he who then gives free reins to his lusts will hardly be able to restore the government of the heart to reason and the conscience. At the time at which the story of his temptation

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