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what they could of the perfume, and rushing out, felt determined to get rid of his curse. He came to the sewer, which carried off the filth of the town; "no fishermen shall drag ye out again now," said he, as he threw the slippers in.
Karabeg, who had been watching that morning, saw Bakarak go, and waiting till out of sight, boldly knocked at the door; Mesroud opened it, “ah master,” cried he, "my lady will be so glad to see you again.” " Will your lady be glad, Mesroud? you enchant ine; conduct me to her instantly." "But then if old Bakarak should return." "Never mind old Bakarak;" and Karabeg had nearly pushed him down, so anxious was he to make use of the opportunity. They were soon together, and the minutes flew away too fast. Zelica informed him of her father's rage being increased, and his suspicions, which he could not help uttering in her presence. Karabeg cursed his penetration. Mesroud, who had retired to watch for his master, in a short time warned them of his approach; but how Karabeg could escape without being perceived was a doubt. While they were debating, Bakarak arrived in the street, and no longer could they hesitate. The lover soon decorated himself in one of Mesroud's vests, and disguising his face as much as the time would permit, he passed off as a brother of Mesroud's, who was dumb. Bakarak asked many questions, which the pretended brother undertook to answer, and eyed Karabeg so closely he almost thought the old man suspected.
Though all went on pretty well, Zelica and Mesroud felt confused, while Karabeg often wished himself out of the house. Bakarak had not broken his fast that morning, and the agitation of his spirits had almost thrown him into a fever; he unfortunately felt his appetite craving its usual allowance. "Mesroud," said he, "I wish you would go and order some fruit and ices to eat with my breakfast; they will be cooling." “I'U go, brother," quickly answered Karabeg, thinking 'twould be an opportunity to escape. " What," cried Bakarak," ""the dumb opens his mouth at the mention of eating! this is a miracle I do not understand." The trio were now in a pretty situation, through the imprudence of the lover; however, as he found that a discovery must ensue, he put the best face he could on the affair, and rubbed off the cork. But nothing could pacify Bakarak, who threatened, if he did not directly leave the house, the bastinado should force him. As for poor Mesroud he would have been happy to escape on the same terms, but was actually regaled with the punishment promised; he consoled himself, however, with the hopes of revenge at some future period.
Two days had passed, and Karabeg had not dared to make another attempt at seeing his mistress, when the whole city were alarmed by a stoppage of the water that supplied their houses; in vain the reason was en
quired into, no one could solve the wonder, and at last it was deemed most advisable to examine the grand reservoir. After some labour and much expense, they broke open the works, and the cause of the stoppage was found to be-Bakarak's slippers. When he heard of it, his rage almost threw him into convulsions; "Some Genie or some Devil possesses them to work my wo," he exclaimed. He soon received a summons to appear, and was demanded how he dare attempt such a treason to the state as closing the pipes. Bursting with vexation, he repeated what he had done to make away with the slippers, (though they had proved so diabolical, he almost feared that might cause a charge of murder to be brought against him) the breaking the perfume jar, and the putting them in the sewer, from whence they had been carried into the public reservoir. The judges felt inclined to laugh at his misfortunes; however as the damage was unintentional, he was allowed to go, on repaying the treasury what it had cost them in pulling down and rebuilding. He scarcely found his way home, so stung was he by resentment, and so mortified by the loss of his money. He muttered as he went along, "Karabeg shall not have my daughter, though the prophet seems to predict it." His mishaps had made him more obstinate than ever, and when he arrived, Zelica was so much frightened at his appearance, that she retired in dismay to her chamber. He ordered a large fire to be prepared instantly, and throwing the slippers in, "At last," said he, I'm determined to see you no more; when I cast you in the river, ye were fished out again; when I put you in the sewer, ye made the whole town suffer, but I'll defy any one to relieve ye now!" The slippers seemed as obstinate as Bakarak in giving him the lie, for the leather had imbibed the moisture to such a degree, that they would not burn. Bakarak found his anger useless, and that he must give up the idea of consuming them till dry: a lead extended over the portico of the house, and placing them there, he ejaculated, I see I must be plagued with ye some time longer, but I shall bless the hour when the sun has sufficiently hardened ye, that I may commit ye to the flames again; and by Allah! when ye are destroyed I will give a public rejoicing."
The vexations Bakarak had endured, had prevented his visiting the mass -he now determined to go, and throwing on his cloak, went out, but as Fortune, or rather Fate would have it, as he passed the threshold, the slippers, by some means, fell from the leads, and came tumbling on his head. Though the blow had confused his ideas a little, he managed to look up, hoping to find out who had done it, and saw a cat running along,-he took the 'slippers 'from the ground, and sent them, one after another, at the animal's head; however, he missed his aim, and they went in at one of the windows. He was beginning to curse, and re-entered the house to stop the blood which issued from his nose, when a loud shriek pierced his
ears; not knowing the reason, he ran quickly up to his daughter's chamber, and beheld her on the floor, with the slippers by her. She had fainted, and while Bakarak called her slaves, he attempted to revive her, but finding it in vain, began to tremble. “Oh, merciful Allah,” cried he, "protect your faithful Mussulman, and let not my daughter's blood sink on this head." The attendants had now come, but their endeavours were also vain to bring Zelica to life; though no wound appeared, the cursed slippers had certainly struck her somewhere on the head; and Mesroud consoled his master by repeated exclamations that she was murdered. "You cruel man!" said he, " it serves you properly; had you but united my poor, dear, beautiful dead mistress to the man she loved, all would have been well: to be sure you did swear that when those slippers ruined you, their marriage should take place, and though that has happened, (for ruined he certainly is who kills his own daughter) yet alas, 'tis of no avail!” Drops of perspiration stood on Bakarak's brow, his joints trembled, and he fell on his knees. "Oh, Mohammed, restore my Zelica, and I vow by all my hopes of Paradise, since 'tis clearly your wish, that I will no longer oppose her union with Karabeg, the cadi's son." He arose. “Oh those cursed, cursed slippers, they have indeed proved my ruin, and I find 'tis impious to war against Fate." Zelica now began to recover, though slowly; thinking it unnecessary to feign longer, she in a short time was perfectly revived, to Bakarak's great joy, who did not suspect the trick practised on him; for though when Zelica saw the slippers enter her window, she was not touched by them, an idea struck her, that answered her purpose equally well. Bakarak's vow had been heard by Mesroud and the rest of the slaves, so that an attempt to deny would have been fruitless; be therefore sent for old Mustapha, who was too good a man to object to a reconciliation, and had his son's happiness too much at heart, to find obstacles to the proposed union. He soon prepared the necessary papers, nor had he reason to complain of his friend Bakarak, whose miserly disposition the late events had completely turned; and who, having promised to give a public rejoicing whenever he got rid of his slippers, performed his promise on the day that saw the lovers united.
LIFE OF JOHN RADCLIFFE.
DR. JOHNSON has observed in his life of Akenside, that "by an acute observer, who had looked on the transactions of the medical world for half a century, a very curious book might be written on the fortune of physicians." The remark is a good one, but the character of the extraordinary person of whom we are about to give some particulars, will show that the inquirer ought to go farther back than the period above-mentioned.
John Radcliffe was a native of Wakefield, in Yorkshire. At the age of fifteen he was entered of University College, Oxford, where he became a senior scholar, and took his first degree. Afterwards he obtained a fellowship of Lincoln College, where he recommended himself to the favour of his friends, more by his ready wit and vivacity, than any distinguished acquirements in learning. He had no turn for a contemplative life: his sociable talents made him the delight of his companions; and the most eminent scholars in the university were fond of his conversation. Though he ran through the usual course of studies connected with medical science, his library was so scanty, that when Dr. Ralph Bathurst, head of Trinity College, asked him one day in a surprise, “Where was his study?"-Radcliffe, pointing to a few phials, a skeleton, and an herbal, answered, "Sir, this is Rad cliffe's library."
'On taking his bachelor's degree in physic, he began to practise, and that in quite a new method, paying little or no regard to the rules then universally followed, which he even then ventered to censure with such acrimony, as made all the old physicians his enemies. One of the principal of these was Dr. Gibbons, who observed, by way of ridiculing Radcliffe," that it was a pity his friends had not made a scholar of him." This sarcasm was not lost upon Radcliffe, who repaid it, by fixing upon its author the nick-name of Nurse Gibbons, which unfortunate appellation stuck to him to his dying day.
* Dr. Mark Akenside was the son of a butcher at New Castle, and one day as he was standing at his father's stall, he let fall a cleaver upon his foot, by which he acquired a lameness, that lasted through life. Yet he was weak enough to be ashamed of his origin, and could never endure to hear his father's profession mentioned, though his limping gait always furnished a striking remembrance of it.
Notwithstanding the opposition he met with, Radcliffe worked himself into a most extensive practice, owing to the boldness and the success of his prescriptions.
He adopted the cool regimen in the small-pox with great effect; and by some surprising cures in families of the first rank, his reputation and his wealth increased daily. In 1677 he resigned his fellowship; and in 1682 he took his doctor's degree, though he still contnued to reside at Oxford.
On removing to London, Radcliffe found that his reputation had flown thither before him, so that before he had been twelve months in town, he gained more than twenty guineas a day, as Dandridge, his apothecary, who himself acquired a fortune of 50,000/ by his means, often asserted.
His conversation was so pleasant, that he was indebted, in a great measure, to it for the prodigious practice which he obtained, particularly among the higher circles; and it is said, that he was often sent for by persons of quality, and presented with fees, only for the gratification of hearing him talk. But sometimes Radcliffe was not in the, humour to be thus played with, and would resent the application made to him in a very rough manner.
He was in such high esteem at court, that James the Second endeavoured to bring him over to the Romish communion, and directed two of his own chaplains to use their efforts with Radcliffe, who refuted them by his wit. His old acquaintance, Obadiah Walker, master of University College, and a recent convert to that faith, was then employed for this purpose, but neither his reasonings nor persuasions could prevail upon the doctor to leave the church of England, to which he remained a fast friend to the day of his death.*
* Radcliffe's answer to a long letter of Walker's, is so characteristic of the writer, and excellent in itself, that we shall be forgiven for inserting it in this place.
"I should be in as unhappy a condition in this life, as you fear I shall be in the next, were I to be treated as a turncoat; and must tell you that I can be serious no longer, while you endeavour to make me believe, what I am apt to think, you give no credit to yourself. Fathers and councils,