ch they would not
permit her to read_!

"Oh! that I had my mother's art," repeated Amine once more as she
entered the cottage; "then would I know where I was at this moment. Oh!
for the black mirror, in which I used to peer at her command, and tell
her what passed in array before me. How well do I remember that time--
the time of my father's absence, when I looked into the liquid on the
palm of my hand, and told her of the Bedouin camp--of the skirmish--the
horse without a rider--and the turban on the sand!" And again Amine
fell into deep thought. "Yes," cried she, after a time, "thou canst
assist me, mother! Give me in a dream thy knowledge; thy daughter begs
it as a boon. Let me think again. The word--what was the word? what
was the name of the spirit--Turshoon? Yes, methinks it was Turshoon.
Mother! mother! help your daughter."

"Dost thou call upon the Blessed Virgin, my child?" said Father Mathias,
who had entered the room as she pronounced the last words. "If so, thou
dost well, for she may appear to thee in thy dreams, and strengthen thee
in the true faith."

"I called upon my own mother, who is in the land of spirits, good
father," replied Amine.

"Yes; but as an infidel, not, I fear, in the land of the blessed
spirits, my child."

"She hardly will be punished for following the creed of her fathers,
living where she did, where no other creed was known?" replied Amine
indignantly. "If the good on earth are blessed in the next world--if
she had, as you assert she had, a soul to be saved--an immortal spirit--
He who made that spirit will not destroy it because she worshipped as
her fathers did. Her life was good: why should she be punished for
ignorance of that creed which she never had an opportunity of
rejecting?"

"Who shall dispute the will of Heaven, my child? Be thankful that you
are permitted to be instructed, and to be received into the bosom of the
holy church."

"I am thankful for many things, father; but I am weary, and must wish
you a good night."

Amine retired to her room--but not to sleep. Once more did she attempt
the ceremonies used by her mother, changing them each time, as doubtful
of her success. Again the censer was lighted--the charms essayed; again
the room was filled with smoke as she threw in the various herbs which
she had knowledge of, for all the papers thrown aside at her father's
death had been carefully collected, and on many were directions found as
to the u