He was now alone, without even the shadow of Friendship to sustain him; still onward he strode up the dizzy height, while his own shadow, at every step, diminished in its immense proportions. At length his course was intercepted by a perpendicular barrier, upon which there was no safe foothold. He looked behind him and discovered that his shadow had departed; he looked down upon his feet to ascertain upon what safe pedestal he stood, and lo! there was nothing more substantial than the heels of his shadow to sustain him; its gigantic outline had dwindled to a pigmy. He raised his proud head and exclaimed exultingly—“but one daring leap is required to surmount this obstruction, and then all will be sunshine!” He made the leap; he touched the rocking pinnacle where all his hopes were perched; his shadow, true to him in sunshine followed, but he found no foothold there, for in an instant he overtoppled and fell on the other side, and he and his shadow disappeared forever. “And is it so?” cried Ibad as he awoke. “Is the path of life too narrow to admit of Friendship without being jostled, and too dangerous for Ambition to tread in safety; and must that proud being disappear as a meteor, without leaving behind even a shadow of his existence! Yahu, ya allah! Praise to thee! I am no Naeshbendee, and live not among sinful men!” Ibad retired to his solitary cell, where he feared not the selfish duplicity of Friendship, and as his sole ambition was to worship the Prophet, he apprehended no barrier in his pathway; and though he might disappear from the eye of man as a shadow, he felt that the shadow he had cast in this world would be gathered up, and become substance in the sight of God through eternity in the next. * * * * * A HARMLESS GLASS OF WINE. BY KATE SUTHERLAND. [SEE ENGRAVING.] “Rose, dear,” said Mrs. Carleton to her daughter, whom she met at the door of the dining-room, with a decanter of wine and glasses on a waiter, “who is in the parlor?” “Mr. Newton,” replied the young girl. “The young man from New York?” “Yes.” “You are going to take him wine?” “Yes. It is only hospitable to offer him some refreshment.” Mrs. Carleton stood with her eyes resting on the floor for some moments, in a thoughtful attitude. “I rather think, Rose,” said she, as she lifted her eyes to her daughter’s face, “that it would be as well not to hand him wine.” “Why, mother?” inquired Rose, looking curious. “We know nothing of the young man’s previous life and habits.” “Why do you say that, mother?” asked Rose, who did not comprehend the meaning of what had been uttered. “He may have been intemperate.” “Mother! How can you imagine such a thing?”