What though they left him without guard or memorial, alone in the wilderness! Kind hands had laid him there, prayer had hallowed the spot, tears of affection bedewed his grave, and guardian spirits would watch with jealous care his “sleeping dust.” “Rest, thee, my brother, last of my kindred,” said Amy, sending a lingering look backward. “There softly lie, and sweetly sleep, Low in the ground, The storm that sweeps the wintry sky No more’ll disturb thy deep repose, Than summer evening’s latest sigh, That shuts the rose.” * * * * * KUBLEH. A STORY OF THE ASSYRIAN DESERT. BY BAYARD TAYLOR. Sofuk, the Sheik of the Shammar Arabs, was the owner of a mare of matchless beauty, called, as if the property of the tribe, the Shammeriyah. Her dam, who died about ten years ago, was the celebrated Kubleh, whose renown extended from the sources of the Khabour to the end of the Arabian promontory, and the day of whose death is the epoch from which the Arabs of Mesopotamia now date the events concerning their tribe. Mohammed Emir, Sheik of the Jebour, assured me that he had seen Sofuk ride down the wild ass of the Sinjar on her back, and the most marvelous stories are current in the desert as to her fleetness and powers of endurance. Sofuk esteemed her and her daughter above all the riches of the tribe; for her he would have forfeited all his wealth, and even Amsha herself. LAYARD’S NINEVEH. The black-eyed children of the Desert drove Their flocks together at the set of sun. The tents were pitched; the weary camels bent Their suppliant necks, and knelt upon the sand; The hunters quartered by the kindled fires The wild boars of the Tigris they had slain, And all the stir and sound of evening ran Throughout the Shammar camp. The dewy air Bore its full burden of confused delight Across the flowery plain, and while, afar, The snows of Koordish Mountains in the ray Flashed roseate amber, Nimroud’s ancient mound Rose broad and black against the burning west. The shadows deepened and the stars came out, Sparkling in violet ether; one by one Glimmered the ruddy camp-fires on the plain, And shapes of steed and horseman moved among The dusky tents, with shout and jostling cry, And neigh and restless prancing. Children ran To hold the thongs, while every rider drove His quivering spear in the earth, and by his door Tethered the horse he loved. In midst of all Stood Shammeriyah, whom they dared not touch— The foal of wondrous Kubleh, to the Sheik A dearer wealth than all his Georgian girls.