And so give it up, your Majesty; you had better," &c., &c.

But Kai Kaus was as obstinate as a mule. He would go, and conquer too. And as for Jemshid, and Feridun, and Minuchir, he did not care the toss of a button for any of them, and considered himself better than all of them together. short, he was fairly in for it.

"Be thou (Zal) and Rustem, whilst afar
I wage the soul-appalling war,
The guardians of the kingdom; Heaven
To me hath its protection given;
And when I reach the Dernon's fort
Their severed heads shall be my sport."

In

We must pass over the warlike preparations of the monarch, his farewell, his onward march, the heroic exploits of Giw, the destruction of the inhabitants of the frontiers, who were all magicians, the surprise of the Persians at viewing the wonderful beauty of the charmed land which increased in richness and splendor, and became more and more a paradise as the vanguard of the army approached the formidable city of the Demons or Genii, whose fame had rendered it an object of veneration and fear all over the world.

Kai Kaus, full of the wildest anticipations of victory, had pitched his tents in state on the plain near the city, and designed to storm it on the ensuing day. But he soon discovered that he had got into a bad position. The King of Mazinderan had called to his aid the gigantic White Demon, a personage to whom Cormoran, the friend of Jack the Giant Killer, would have been a mere foot-page. Through the magical arts of this terrible adversary, a deep black cloud settled upon the Persian army that night, and a tremendous shower of hail-stones poured down upon them, killing great numbers, and causing the remainder to flee hither and thither through the gloom.

Accomplished by a more ambitious course? Thy soldiers have slain many; dire destruction

And spoil have been their purpose; thy wild will

Has promptly been obeyed; but thou art now
Without an army; not one man remains
To lift a sword or stand in thy defence-
Not one to hear thy groans and thy despair."

The survivors were secured, deprived of sight, and allowed barely food enough to keep them alive, being under the tender protection of the King of Mazinderan and White Demon returns to his cave. a Demon named Arzang. After this the

Zal soon heard of the helpless condition of his king, and tore his hair in despair at the tidings. But soon, with heroic generosity, he began to devise some plan for his liberation, which he committed to his son, the great Rustem, he being enfeebled by age. Rustem is the great hero of the Shah Nameh :

"Since the Lord of all nature created this earth,

To a hero like Rustem he never gave birth."

But even Rustem could not but hesitate at an enterprise like that proposed by Zal. "It was a long journey," he said, "to Mazinderan, and the King had been six months on the road." Zal, however, remarked that there were two roads-the more tedious one taken by Kai Kaus; and the other beset with lions and genii, and full

of sorcery and danger; which, however, would lead him to Mazinderan in seven days, if he reached it at all.

On hearing this the valiant Rustem assented, and resolved to try the short road, observing

"Although it is not wise, they say,
To track with willing feet the way
To hell; though only men who've lost
All love of life, by misery crossed,
Would rush into the tiger's lair
And die poor reckless victims there;
I gird my loins whate'er may be,
And trust to God for victory."

On the following day, resigning himself to the protection of Heaven, he put on his war attire, and with his wonderful steed Rakush, the constant sharer of his perils and his glory, richly caparisoned, he stood prepared for his journey. His mother, Rudabeh, took leave of him with great sorrow, and to close the dramatic picture Rustem, like one of Metastasio's heroes, consoles himself and his friends at parting thus:

"O'er him who seeks the battle-field,

Nobly his prisoned king to free,
Heaven will extend its saving shield,
And crown his arms with victory.'

This pathetic scene is followed by the Heft Khan or seven labors of Rustem, the Persian Hercules. We must omit the beautiful drapery the poet throws around them, and merely mention the difficulty encountered by Rustem in each stage.

First Stage. He rapidly pursued his way, performing two days' journey in one, and soon came to a forest full of wild asses. He caught and roasted one of them for his dinner, over a fire of dry reeds and branches, striking sparks from the top of his spear to light it. Loosening the bridle of Rakush, he went to sleep there, taking care to have his sword under his head. A fierce lion attacks Rakush, but is killed by his hoofs and teeth. Rustem's address to

Rakush on awaking and seeing the dead

lion is characteristic of an Oriental.

Had

Rakush perished, he says amongst other things:

"How could thy master have conveyed
His helm, and battle-axe, and blade,
Kamund and bow, and buberyan,
Unaided to Mazinderan ?"

The Second Stage represents Rustem nearly perishing in the burning sands of a desert from thirst, his prayer, and wonderful relief. He lies down to rest, with the following injunction to Rakush :

"Beware, my steed, of future strife,
Again thou must not risk thy life;
Encounter not the lion fell,
Nor demon still more terrible;
But should an enemy appear,

Ring loud the warning in mine ear."

Third Stage.-At midnight, a monstrous dragon-serpent issued from the forest. It was eighty feet in length, and so fierce that neither elephant, nor lion, nor demon ever ventured to pass by its lair. This unwelcome visitor saw the sleeping champion, and his horse grazing near. Rakush was the first object of his attack, but retiring toward his master he neighed, and beat the ground so furiously, that Rustem awoke, but the dragon had vanished. Rustem was vexed at what he considered a false alarm. He slept again, -again awoke, saw nothing, and thereupon addressed poor Rakush, in a fit of passion, with severe reproaches. He even threatened the noble steed :

"But if again my rest is broke,

On thee shall fall the fatal stroke, And I myself will drag this load Of ponderous arms along the road. Yes! I will go a lonely man, Without thee to Mazinderan."

But he was not deceived the third time.

The description of the encounter is terrific. Rakush aided with his teeth, and Rustem triumphant, returns thanks to God for his

success.

The Fourth Stage leads through an enchanted garden, described with all the charms of Ferdousi's rich imagery, enlivened by music, wine, magic banquets, a perfect Horn of Plenty, the tip of which is a beautiful sorceress, who approaches the warrior, but at his mentioning the name of God, while presenting a cup of wine, is suddenly transformed into a black and hideous fiend. Seeing this, Rustem threw his kamund or noose over the demon, and dragging him to the ground, split him in two with his sword, "as the blade sliceth a cucumber."

In the Fifth Stage he passes through a

dark cloud into a deep forest, where the keeper found the hero asleep, while Rakush was helping himself to his employer's corn. Striking his staff violently on the ground, he awoke Rustem, who being particularly cross always after a nap, and ⚫ hearing the wretch give him impudence, caught him by the ears, and pulled them so hard that he pulled them off! This injury brings on the Lord of the Manor, one Aulad, with his troops.

Rustem scatters the troops, and secures Aulad with his kamund. The prisoner described the further terrors of the land to him, but agreed to act as his guide, on Rustem's promising him to make him king of Mazinderan. Rustem then binds the guide to a tree, and lies down to rest.

He now comes to the region inhabited by the terrible Genii, or demons, not immortal, but so fierce that Ferdousi often uses their warlike prowess as an illustration; for example :

"For the tyrant at once and his heroes began Their attack like the demons of Mazinderan."

He challenged them with a roar that shook the very hills. Arzung, hearing a human voice, rushed from his tent, but only to be slaughtered by Rustem, who threw his head amongst the demons, much to their astonishment and terror.

The Sixth Stage is the entrance of Mazinderan, where the captive warriors learn his approach by the neighing of the wellknown Rakush. Rustem sees the king, who is stone-blind, and only to be cured by a drop of warm blood from the heart of the White Demon. Rustem hastens on towards the Seven Mountains, and enters amongst the demons during the hot hours of the day, when they were accustomed to be fast asleep. Having made a St. Bartholomew's Eve amongst them, he proceeds onward.

Seventh Stage-Rustem's encounter with the White Demon. We will give Mr. Atkinson's version of this stage in full.

With equal terror muttered to himself: 'I now despair of life-sweet life. No more Shall I be welcomed to Mazinderan.'

And still they struggled hard-still sweat and blood

Poured down at every strain. Rustem at last, Gathering fresh power vouchsafed him by Heaven,

And bringing all his mighty strength to bear,
Raised up the gasping Demon in his arms,
And with such fury dashed him to the ground,
That life no longer moved his monstrous
frame.

Promptly he then tore out the reeking heart,
And crowds of Demons simultaneous fell
As part of him, and stained the earth with gore.
Others who saw this signal overthrow,
Trembled, and hurried from the scene of
blood.

Then the great victor, issuing from that cave
With pious haste, took off his helm and mail,
And royal girdle, and with water washed

With it no force or art can pierce his mail."

This signal victory concluded the enter prise. Kai Kaus was cured of his blindness by the heart's blood of the late White Demon, and his fellow-captives were liberated. An ambassador was sent to the King of Mazinderan, informing him how the White Demon had got his due, and his friends had been cast out. The king however showed fight. Rustem was then dispatched to him as envoy of the victorious army. A band of warriors came out to receive him. Wishing to show them his strength, he tore up a large tree by the roots, and dexterously wielded it in his hand like a spear. Tilting onwards, he flung it through the air before his wondering enemies. One of them, to show what he could do, offered to grasp hands with Rustem, they met; but the gripe of the champion was so excruciating, as to make the ruffian's sinews crackle, and make him fall from his horse, yelling with

agony.

An engagement of the two armies ensued, which remained of doubtful success, until Rustem, crushing everything before him, singled out the Magician King of Mazinderan. Furiously they coped with sword and javelin, until Rustem, actually burning with rage, sprang like a tiger upon his adversary, when, lo and behold! by the force of magic, he transformed himself into-a rock!

Rustem, just on the point of victory, thought this really hard; the rest stood in blank amazement around until Kai Kaus came up, and ordered them to drag the enchanted mass to his tent. This they attempted, but all their united force

could not move it an inch, until Rustem, recovering his usual ardor, approached, and amidst loud exclamations of amazement from the bystanders, fairly heaved the lump of stone, lifting it high in air. "Return to thy shape," he now cried, "or flinty rock as thou art, I will dash thee into atoms.' The magician-king, alarmed at the threat, became softened, and resumed his original form. All the trouble was now over. Aulad the guide, according to Rustem's promise, was made Governor of Mazinderan-the stubborn magician-king was cut to pieces. Rustem returned after eight days of rejoicement, to gain new triumphs in Persia; Kai Kaus to run himself into new difficulties; all the soldiers got rich; and the Demons were so crest-fallen, that for a long time no mischief was done in that neighborhood except what was caused by men, and a little that was done by the women.

The story of Kai Kaus shows the character of Ferdousi's genius, but he knows how to be regular and stately at times. We may give one more brief extract, where, in true epic style, he describes an engagement :

""Twas at midday the strife began,

With steed to steed, and man to man;
The clouds of dust which rolled on high,
Threw darkness over earth and sky.
Each soldier on a foeman rushed,
And every blade with crimson blushed,
And valiant hearts were trod upon

Like sand beneath the horse's feet; And when the warrior's life was gone,

His mail became his winding sheet."

With this extract we take leave of our readers, of the Shah Nameh, and the old Persian bard, who still continues to be the delight of the inhabitants of those beautiful regions which he depicted in such charming colors in his poem, so many centuries ago.

VOL. III. NO. I. NEW SERIES.

FEW States of our Union have had more just cause for pride in the patriotism of her sons than New Jersey. During the Revolutionary struggle, the sands of the old Commonwealth were dyed with her best blood. In the political struggles of our own times, New Jersey Whigs battling, as their fathers did, for constitutional freedom, have contested every inch with the advocates of radicalism and misrule. In twelve well-fought battles they have been fairly worsted but once; during twelve years this gallant Whig State has but once swerved from her cherished political faith. That she has so long been the abode of peace and conservative order-that she has been preserved from violence and misgovernment-that she has not been drawn into the vortex of debt and oppressive taxation-that she has never been brought into the necessity, or threatened with the fear of repudiation and bankruptcy, she has owed, under God, to the skill and the patriotism of those worthy sons to whom she has intrusted her destiny.

In the National Councils that skill and patriotism have been as clearly distinguished as in her own. New Jersey has New Jersey has always contributed her full share of intellect, integrity and statesmanship to every Congress that has ever yet gathered under the folds of the Nation's banner within the Nation's Capitol. Among the immortal patriots who stood around John Hancock in the Hall of Independence were John Witherspoon and Richard Stockton. In later times, where on the roll of Senatorial fame and purity shall we find two nobler names than those of Samuel Lewis Southard and Theodore Frelinghuysen? Among those who have during the past four years waged perpetual battle against the pernicious schemes of this unrighteous administration, who have labored with a more untiring zeal, and a more unchanging fidelity than the two true-hearted men who now

represent New Jersey in the Senate of the Union?

One of these two men we have chosen as the subject of a short biographical notice. WILLIAM LEWIS DAYTON is a native Jerseyman, born in the county of Somerset, which has given birth to more eminent men than any other in the State. His ancestry for many generations were also Jerseymen, having emigrated to the colony among its earlier settlers.

His great-grandfather, Jonathan Dayton, who was of Fnglish descent, settled at Elizabethtown in Essex county, as early at least as 1725, and about the same time his mother's grandfather removed to Baskenridge, Somerset co., where he erected the first frame dwelling that was known in that section of the country. His ancestry on both the father's and mother's side took honorable part in the Revolutionary struggle. Some of the family distinguished themselves; Elias Dayton became a 'Brigadier General, and Jonathan Dayton, his son, became afterwards eminent as the Speaker of the House of Representatives in the Fourth Congress. His maternal grandfather, Edward Lewis, was a Commissary of the Revolutionary army, and served as such during the entire

war.

Robert Dayton, the grandfather of the present Senator, removed his family for greater security during the war, from Elizabethtown to a farm in the vicinity of Baskenridge. Here he continued to reside after the close of the war, and reared a large family on narrow means, and in comparative obscurity. Here his son Joel Dayton resided, a man of intelligence and probity. Here the present Senator was born on the 17th of February, 1807. He was the eldest of his family, and was placed while in his twelfth year under the care of the celebrated Dr. Brownlee, now of New York. Dr. B. prepared him for the College of New Jersey, from which he