The Arkansas advocate., 1831-01-12
MISCELLANY.
THE ARABIAN SPEED
BY THOMAS HAYNES BAyLy.


 who, i'll the reign of the emperor Akbar, dweit sin a superb palace on the banks of JuDlls,. The ralah was nralsd Of lis ati Esl idd aud loved hersss far as his was suscep- tibe of a passion. But the duties of his situa- ton, and his warlike pursuits, called him fre- qiently from her:and much of the daIkeyed nndoo's time was spentin dreary solitude amid the garden of her fathers palace.
 Beautiful as these gardens were, gilded pavil- lions, the air cooled with silver fonntaiias, and rendered. fragant by the colours of every rare plant, still this perpetual solitude wearied her, the society of her female attendants failed to interest her, snd sile fecined beneath the pendent branches of date tree she felt more. like "a pfisoncrIn cage, than a princess i'll the pleasure garden of her palace.
 She had dismissed her attendants. and lay. thoughtiulIy leaning her head on her hand, when a nlstug amid the branches of an orange tree. attracted her attention, and she started to herleet Tn an instant, with an exclamation of alarm O surprise, as she distinctly saw aanong the clustering leaves and blossoms, tho bright eyes and dark glowing features of man.
 The branches hastily parted and a young Ma homedan rushing forward, knelt before her. Who art thou? she exclaimed, mercy, nler- ey. am defcnceIess: spare fife
 feis sepiiied the Moor, lis must crave! mercy of you--I aa, defenceless, fair lady. am at your feet, and n yong power " v i''tt brought you ncre? sle replied. .' Know you not the danger?
 sA danger have braycd too often to heed t for an instant BOW.
 s9iten what mean you
 Daily al this hour, the hour of your solitary rambe, entered these gardens; daily have l lurked behind. the shrubs that surround your s;- sorte bower, daily have gazed on you urs- seen.
 for what purpose?
 .5ry purpose! madness -deatll!'
 Death? to me who never wronged you, who never injured q human being
 To youiady--n --no--no--not to you,-I would not harm you, for tI,e world.
 Death to whom, then?'
 sTo myself
 Why that brought you hero ?
 Accident. orperhaps curiosity first brought me, and looked on you for the first time need say why daily, after had once seen you, came again?.
 sOh, if you are seen, cried Ada, nothing can save you from my fathers rage, you know the barrier, theawiul impossible barrierthat divides your race from mine madpaan, hegonep
 The young Moor, whose face and form were such as might have been chosen by sculptor who wished to represent the perfection of cas- tern beauty, spoke not, moved not; he continu- ed kneeliag before the agitated girl, while his dark brilliant eyes fixed upon her countcnance seemed to read its varying expression, that me rnory might have a store of sweet thoughts to iiveupon, when the reality should no longer stand before him.
 Ada could not bear the earnest gaze of those fond eyes; where was hcranger, her indignation at the intrusion Of the stranger? gonei She called not her attendants; no, slic trcmblcd lest they should come.
 await my doom, at length uttered the intru- der l scorn to fly; my dream of secret love is over; my stolen watchings, so dear, though So hopeless, are at end: you will call your fathers guards, and shall die.
 No, no-you shall not die-not if Ada can save you; will not call them, no--I dread their coming
 Then forgive my boldnessg
 fes--oniy begone save yourself.
 Shall me meet again?
 sNeverp
 sThen viii stay and die, better die here at your command, in your presence, than to go hence and finger out a life of hopeless love, ne yer behoiding you again.
 Poor Ada had never been addIessed before in love'sown language. Her hand had been sought by princess and nobles, who secure in her tath- ers sanction, addressed before her in terms ol admiration, but whose looks and accents were cold and spiritless, when compared With tn the ardour of the youthful lover who knelt before her.
 For my sake,i not for your own, sso, soe, she cried. gThen we may meet again9' es only leave me now, you know not hal your peril. Tomorrow is the annual festive \ honor of Vishnu, Lshall be there, and will con trive to speak Ito you--hark! ?