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say the least of it, promising; she blushed, smiled, and did not look him straight in the face; there was no saying to what it might come. I knew that Lord Vaughan bore a very high character, and that, in point of circumstances and position, he was an unexceptionable púrti, so I resolved to give him every assistance in my power, and I could not help indulging a little triumph as I remembered Owen's exceedingly low opinion of my capacity as a manoeuvrer, and anticipated his perfect contentment with the engagement into which I expected that his ward would enter while under my charge. Only two things specially worthy of note occurred ere the lady and her son took leave, viz.; Edith was engaged for the first polka on Thursday evening, and Mrs. Alvanley was expressly included in the invitation to the ball. She owed this little piece of good fortune to the foresight which had induced her to take off her bonnet and shawl immediately after her arrival: Lady Vaughan having concluded, naturally enough, that she was a visitor in the house.

"Well, Edith, I congratulate you!" cried Frank, when we were alone again. "A ball and a conquest so soon after your debût,—it is more than you could have expected."

"Yes;" replied his sister, "isn't it nice?" "Isn't it nice?" repeated Captain Everard, inquiringly. "Which?"

"Neither is to be despised, I assure you," observed Kinnaird. " Lord Vaughan is a most agreeable fellow, and what is more, he bears the highest character possible."

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He laughed. "You don't know me," was his answer, or you would know that I always speak as I think. You charitably give me credit for being a vast deal better than I seem; on the contrary, like most of my fellow-creatures, I am a vast deal worse."

"I don't think that is possible," cried Edith. "Nay, you need not laugh; I assure you I am in earnest. According to your own profession, you have neither faith, hope, nor charity."

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"That is a tremendous accusation," he replied; "of course you are prepared to substantiate it." You cannot deny it," persisted she; "; you have no faith in human nature, no hope that it will ever become any better than it is, and therefore, of course, no charity." "You have described me exactly," said he, bowing; "your insight into character is wonderful; you ought to write fashionable and domestic novels."

But Edith was not to be bantered out of her severity Whether it was that she was genuinely interested in the subject, or that she was a little angry at the disparaging tone which Captain Everard had adopted about Lord Vaughan, I cannot say, but she proceeded with increased animation. "Do you know that I think your opinions are, if sincere, the most wonderful and the most miserable that I ever met with? Have you never in all your life met with affection-real, true, unselfish affection, that can overcome and endure everything?"

There was a momentary expression of pain in his face, as if he shrank from the subject, at least so I fancied, but it passed away in an instant, and he answered "Indeed," said Everard dryly, "what has he done?" in his former enigmatical tone, in which neither Edith "Done!" reiterated his friend, half puzzled, half in-nor I were able to separate the jest from the earnest, dignant. "I don't know what you mean, Everard. the assumption from the reality: "Oh! yes, often! What whim now is it, that induces you to run down It is a very pretty thing to play with when the sun Lord Vaughan?" shines."

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"No," said Edith, "it is human nature in general that you want to depreciate. You want to renew the argument of last night."

"I did not remember that there was an argument last night," observed he quietly-" Who argued?" I felt absolutely enraged at this rudeness, but Miss Kinnaird only laughed and said, "How insulting!"

"I thought," replied he, "it would rather be an insult to a lady to suppose her capable of arguing. Surely it militates a little against that etherial gentleness which characterises all the females in your ideal world, and which endears them so much to the highsouled generous men, as companions for whom they were created."

"I wish you would not pretend to know anything about my ideal world," exclaimed she, "you make dreadful mistakes about it. Besides, I should like to know which is most to be reprobated--a woman who cannot argue, or a man who cannot believe?"

"Don't reckon me in the latter class!" cried he, catching for a moment the eagerness of her tone. "How delightful!" said Edith. "For once you have said what you think."

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Edith looked at him with an expression of genuine horror; he laughed, and after a moment's pause she continued. "Well then, we won't talk about yourself. Of course you must know yourself better than I do, and if you say that you are incapable of feeling anything, I am bound to believe you. But I will maintain that you have no right to judge other people by the same rule. You must look upon yourself as an exception, and when you want to understand others, you must take it for granted that they have minds and hearts unlike your own. Now, there is Frank for instance-pray don't fancy that his friendship for you is like yours for him."

"Frank is a very good fellow," said Captain Everard with the same provoking smile, looking towards his friend, who had withdrawn to the further end of the room to write a letter; " and I am so well satisfied with his friendship that I would not wish to look too closely into it."

"Do you mean to say that his affection is only a plaything for a sunshiny day!" exclaimed Edith, indignantly;" Do you mean to say that if you were in trouble he would not make sacrifices in order to serve you?" "I would never ask him," returned Everard.

"Why not? Would you be too proud to ask a service, even of a friend!"

"No," said he, "but I like to keep a few little snug illusions as long as I can; at any rate I wouldn't disperse them with my own hand. But it is a shame to talk to you in this manner. Your faith in your own illusions is so zealous that I would not disturb it for the world."

"You could not," cried she. "My illusions, as you call them, are truth, and that is my great comfort. It is not because I am young and a woman that I think in this manner-the older I grow, the more steadfastly I hope I shall believe in the reality of everything which you despise! I would rather die this moment than think as you do!"

He looked at her an instant with a half-amused, halfadmiring expression, and then replied-" Di chi mi fido, guardami Dio! Di chi non mi fido mi guarderò

io!

You know the proverb, doubtless. Kinnaird, isn't it time for us to be moving?"

"I'll follow you," replied Frank, looking up; "I must finish this letter."

Captain Everard bowed and took his leave.

they had been substantially constructed, they could not have mouldered into dust from the effect of time and weather; for where man has not destroyed, the temples remain almost as perfect as when first erected. It is, therefore, reasonable to conclude that the ordinary habitations of the Thebans were little better than the miserable dwellings of the modern Egyptians. Probably the wealth and power of the country were entirely devoted to the services of a false religion. The priests monopolized all the learning of the times, and illustrated in a striking manner, that knowledge is power. If this theory be correct, we can in some measure account for the extreme magnificence and grandeur of these wonderful remains; but if, on the other hand, we reflect that they were erected at a time when the world the last two thousand years nothing has been produced may be said to have been in its infancy, and that during which can rival the temple of Karnac in magnitude or magnificence, our wonder remains undiminished. Machinery must have existed of which we have no record or conception, or how could masses of stone columns sixty or seventy feet high? There must, too, weighing a hundred tons be raised to the top of have been great knowledge of chemistry, for the colours employed in the decoration of the interior are still as bright as ever. Great skill in tempering metal must have been acquired, for the hard granite, and much harder porphyry, are minutely sculptured, while columns, ceilings and walls, are covered with a boundless profusion of bas-reliefs, all cut with extreme accuracy. The temples of Upper Egypt, and the wondrous pyra

THE BOAT AND THE CARAVAN, A FAMILY TOUR THROUGH EGYPT AND SYRIA.2 THE interest of this work is considerably impaired by the attempt, not very skilfully managed, to overlay with a slight coating of fiction a simple and straightforward narrative, which bears the strongest internal evidence of being told, in all other respects, with a scrupulous adherence to truth. An English gentleman in search of health and relaxation, after a life busily spent in commercial pursuits, sets off in company with his wife and child, whether son or daughter we are left in doubt, on a tour through part of Egypt and Syria. But, instead of telling the story of his travels plainly in his own person, he, with the very extraordinary idea of giving "a little variety to the narrative," assumes a fictitious name, speaks of himself in the third person, and adds to his family a supernumerary son or daughter and a female attendant; thus most gratuitously throwing suspicion upon one of the greatest merits of his book, its truth, without in the slightest degree imparting to it the liveliness, or permitting to himself the freedom, of well-mids of Sakkara and Ghizeh, alike show how vain a managed fiction.

In other respects the work deserves to be spoken of with much praise. The traveller, whoever he is, makes no attempt to astonish his readers by the exhibition of much antiquarian lore; indeed, by addressing his book chiefly to the young, he in a great measure precludes himself from doing so, and the reflections, conceived in the best possible spirit, are sometimes, it must be admitted, rather studiously simplified to the level of infantile understandings. Still he has observed carefully, and described in a very pleasing style, and, we doubt not, with much accuracy, the most striking objects which he met with, and the incidents he encountered on a track not often ventured upon by English ladies and children, and not so frequently traversed by any as to make it impossible to throw both novelty and interest into the account of a journey over it.

As a specimen, and by no means the best, of our author's style, we extract a part of his description of the

ruins of Thebes.

"The origin of Thebes is lost in the obscurity of extreme antiquity, and but little is known of its early history. It is supposed to have been founded by the mighty conqueror Sesostris, who is believed to have flourished previous to the captivity of the patriarch Joseph in Egypt. The recent discovery of a method by which hieroglyphics can be deciphered has already tended to throw much light on the subject; but probably many years will elapse before the chronology of the history of the country will be established, if it be ever clearly settled. But few centuries had passed after the universal deluge before it became a powerful empire, and far in advance of the rest of the world in arts and sciences. The early Greeks acquired most of their knowledge from the Egyptians, and it is supposed that Sesostris was the ruler over the greater part of Asia. It is remarkable, that while so many of the temples of Thebes remain in a tolerable perfect condition, almost all traces are lost of other less important buildings. If

(1) "God protect me from the man I trust! I will protect myself

from him whom I rust not!"

(2) London: Bogue, Fleet Street. 1847.

thing is human ambition. The mighty sovereigns who projected them very probably did not live to see their completion, and the very names of these immortal heroes are forgotten.

stood within a hundred yards of their boat. A number "The Daltons first visited the Temple of Luxor, which of Arabs had offered themselves as guides; it was evident that they could be of no service, and as Daireh said, they frequently knew much less of what they offered to show than those they wished to conduct through the ruins; but as it was not likely that they would give up the hope of being employed, one was chosen "pro forma," and the rest informed they would not be required. At least half a dozen, however, added themselves to the party, in hopes of coming in for some share of the backsheesh.

"On each side of the grand entrance stood, till very lately, an obelisk of granite, partly buried in the sand, but still rising to a height of sixty feet. One of them was removed by the French a few years ago, and is now placed in the Place de la Concorde, at Paris. It is calculated to weigh five hundred thousand pounds, is seventy-six feet high, and formed out of one block of rose-coloured granite. The cost of its removal from its ancient site, and its erection in its position, was immense. A canal was dug from the river to its base, and it was lowered at once into the vessel which carried it down the Nile. The French engineers pride themselves upon the skill and science employed in transferring the mighty mass to their beloved Paris, but this obelisk is less than two thirds the size of one which stands before the church of St. John Lateran, in Rome. There are three others in the "eternal city" which are of equal magnitude, and seven more of smaller dimensions, all brought from Egypt by the old Romans. The Pasha offered the obelisk still standing at Luxor to the English Government, which was not willing to incur the heavy expense of its removal.

Behind the obelisk, and close to the Propylon are two gigantic figures in red granite, sadly mutilated, and more than half buried in the sand. Twenty feet of the upper part of each are yet above the surface. The than sixty high. It is covered with sculpture, and, as Propylon is nearly two hundred feet wide, and more at Edfon, a gigantic warrior is represented engaged in

the slaughter of his enemies. On one side, he stands in a car drawn by two spirited horses, who are trampling down the conquered foe, while he is about to discharge his bow among their ranks. In the other, the enemy is represented in full flight, and in the utmost confusion, while he stands alone amidst a heap of slain.

"The next day was devoted to the Valley of Tombs, one of the most interesting and remarkable spots in Egypt. A hot ride of more than a hour brought our travellers to the mountains which enclose it; nothing could exceed the dreariness of the road on which they now entered. High barren rocks shut them in on every side. Their path lay through a wilderness of sand, scattered with hugh fragments of stone, which had rolled down from above. Scarcely a blade of vegetation was visible, and the sun's beams, pouring down on their heads and reflected by the hills, were hardly bearable. The heat of that valley in the summer must be past endurance. Having proceeded for some distance, they reached a still more confined space, and arrived at the spot where the kings and counsellors of the earth built desolate places for themselves.' The tombs have been excavated principally on the right side of the valley, and after receiving their tenants, every effort was made to cover the entrances, and it would be easy again to cover up the small unadorned portals with loose earth and stones. Long before the Christian era, most of them had been broken into by the Conquerors of Egypt, and their royal tenants disturbed for the sake of the treasures which were buried with them. They now stand open, and in every instance have been much defaced by the unscrupulous antiquary and wanton Arab.

"The first tomb visited by the Daltons was that discovered by Belzoni, nearly thirty years ago. Entering the narrow and unostentatious portal they passed a long gallery which slopes downwards. The rock in which it was excavated is hard, and of a remarkably close grained stone, resembling that used in lithography. The sides are covered with hieroglyphies in small characters, and cut with beautiful precision. It led into a large hall similarly ornamented. They then descended a staircase, and passing through a long corridor, entered into a chamber of considerable magnitude, which from the splendour of the embellishments, has been called the Hall of Beauty. Where they have not been defaced, the figures are quite perfect, and the colouring remarkably bright and fresh. Beyond it, our travellers had to pass along another corridor, and they finally arrived at the largest hall, where Belzoni found the sarcophagus which once contained the body of the Pharoah for whom this magnificent resting-place was constructed. He had every reason to hope that it still remained undisturbed, for he had been stopped in his progress by finding the end of one of the corridors blocked up and ornamented like the sides, so as to convey the impression that the excavation ended there. But having made his way through the obstruction and entered the last hall, the sarcophagus was discovered empty, with the lid lying by it, broken in two. A hole in the floor showed that it had been entered by a subterraneous passage made in an opposite direction from the entrance, but the invaders had contented themselves with removing the body and any valuables deposited with it.

"Some of the larger chambers were supported by square pillars, left standing when the excavations were made: they also were covered with sculpture. but being more easy of access than the walls, they have suffered more. "Large portions have been cut away, and two or three were lying in fragments, left there, the guide said, by Leipsins, after an ineffectual attempt to remove them. When Belzoni entered this magnificent tomb, he found it in as perfect a state as when first constructed; now there is scarcely a square foot of basrelief which is not more or less defaced. The smoke of the torches and candles necessarily used by visitors is

also obscuring the bright colours and blackening the roof. It is really grievous that a monument of such surpassing interest, that might have been kept in good order for centuries to come, should be so quickly and shamefully mutilated.

"The Daltons entered several other tombs; one is even greater in extent than that called after Belzoni, but not so richly embellished; others are nearly choked up at the entrance. Most of them contain an enormous sarcophagus, without ornament or inscription, and cut out of a block of granite. The ponderous lid lies by its side, generally broken into two or three pieces. The passage leading to the chamber where they are deposited, is just large enough for the sarcophagus to go through: it was probably lowered on rollers, and it would be difficult to force them up the inclined plane without widening the space.

"The beautiful alabaster sarcophagus which Belzoni managed to take out from the great tomb without injury, was sent to England. It is of singular beauty, and nearly transparent, although about three inches thick. He sold it to the late Sir John Soane, for 3000l., and it now forms the chief ornament of his museum. Both the inside and the outside are covered with sculpture, minutely and admirably executed, containing several hundred figures. The subject represents the funeral obsequies of the deceased, and many captives are introduced in the procession; among them the Jews are distinguished by their physiognomy, and serve to confirm the opinion of Dr. Young, who deciphered the hieroghyphics, that it once contained the body of Pharaoh Necho, who invaded Judea in the reign of Josiah." From the number of halls in this and some other of the tombs, and their elaborate ornaments, it does not seem improbable that part of them at least were designed to be used as banqueting rooms in celebrating the feasts of the dead.3

"The travellers, having first taken lunch in one of the tombs, and rested awhile after the labour of exploring so many, returned into the plain, and visited the Temple at Gournou, which bears the name of Memnonium. Near it lie the gigantic fragments of the largest statue in the world. It must have been an arduous task to destroy it. They cover a large space of ground; and the surface of the different parts of the body is but little injured. It is formed of red granite, of so hard a nature that portions are sent to Cairo to be used in cutting glass. The figure was originally sixty feet high, and weighed two million pounds is three feet long, and the shoulders twenty-two feet across. From thence our travellers proceeded to a very singular subterraneous Temple, excavated out of the rock. It is not large, and is decorated in a somewhat similar style to the others; but there is reason to believe that it is more ancient than those of Karnae or Luxor. The façade, pillars, and some colossal figures are all cut out of the live rock.

The ear

"Near it were some very extensive catacombs, into which the party entered. The first chamber is large; but the stench arising from a countless number of bats which have taken up their abode in these tombs was so great, that no one but Mr. Dalton was inclined to proceed further. Provided with lighted candles, he and Dairch followed the guide, who led them through a long passage, from which others branched off to the right and left. The foul birds of night, disturbed by the intruders, flew about in all directions, sometimes dashing into their faces, and at others putting out their lights. Mr. l'alton proceeded for several hundred yards, through various passages, and then descending a flight of steps, traversed an equal number of galleries running underneath the others. It was a perfect

(1) Sir John Soane left his house in Lincoln's-inn-fields, with all its contents, to the country, and the public are admitted gratuitously during the month of May only, each year. Why it is not always accessible, we do not know. It is well worthy of a visit. (2) 2 Chron. xxxv. 20, 22. (3) Psalm cvi. 28.

labyrinth; and more like the courts and streets of a small town, in extent and number, than a receptacle of the dead. There were a few remains of mummies, but almost all had been carried off. Even in the lower story, the bats were very numerous, and the air was extremely hot and close. He returned to daylight in a profuse perspiration, and sickened by the foul smell."

Poetry.

In Original Poetry, the Name, real or assumed, of the Author, is printed in Small Capitals under the title; in Selections, it is printed in Italics at the end.

THE PAINTER'S SOLACE.

0.

[SIGNORELLI had one son, a youth of great promise and exceeding beauty, who was unfortunately killed at Cortona; when he was brought home to him, the body was carried into his painting room, where he painted his son's portrait, and shed not a tear.]

ONWARD the lifeless corse they bear,

And reach his father's roof;

They enter, lay it on the ground,
Then silent stand aloof.

No eye should view a father's grief,-
No voice address his woe;

So they turned, and left him as he stood,
Ere tears began to flow.

And day had passed, and evening fled,
And midnight's fearful gloom,
And at break of day the rising sun

Shone brightly through that room.
The painter rose,-one thought he had
That soothed his breaking heart,
One solace he may yet enjoy,
And owe it to his art.

He rose, advanced with faltering step,
His pallet then he took;

His eye,

it was undimmed by tears,

His hand, it scarcely shook.

Now seated near the lifeless clay,
He traces ere it flies

The beauty dearest to his heart,

And fairest to his eyes.

He paints, and grief forgets to grieve,
And anguish to complain,
While his feeble hand its art essays
The loved one to retain.

His task is o'er, and tranquilly
He sees them bear away

All that once bound him unto life,
And now is only clay.

He gazes on what seems to him
The emblem of that mind,
That face where truth and purity
In beauty were enshrined.

And this alone can soothe his grief
And calm his troubled heart,
Until that blessed hour shall come,
When from earth he may depart.

Miscellaneous.

"I have here made only a nosegay of culled flowers, and have brought nothing of my own, but the string that ties them."-Montaigne.

SUPERSTITION REGARDING THE OWL IN CEYLON.

AMONG the birds in Ceylon there are few more remarkable than the Virginian horned owl (Bubo Virginianus). Wilson, who has described this bird in his American Ornithology, tells us that "as soon as evening draws

on, and mankind retire to rest, he sends forth such sounds as seem scarcely to belong to this world, startling the solitary pilgrim as he slumbers by his forest fire, 'making night hideous.' This ghastly watchman has frequently warned me of the approach of morning, and amused me with his singular exclamations, sometimes sweeping down and around my fire, uttering a loud and sudden Waugh O, Waugh O, sufficient to have alarmed a whole garrison. He has other nocturnal solos, no less melodious, one of which very strikingly resemble the half-suppressed scream of a person suffocating or throttled." The writer first heard the wailing or groaning exclamation of this bird while he was accompanying a body of troops through a densely wooded country about midnight, for the purpose of surprising and capturing a Kandyan chieftain. The Kandyans consider the cry of this owl as a presage of death or misfortune, unless they adopt a charm to avert its fatal summons. They call this bird Bagahmoona, devil-face, or devil-bird, and by many the cry is presumed to come directly from the devil. The veracious Knox (who in 1681 published his excellent "Historical Relation of the Island of Ceylon") is obviously of this opinion, for he says, "This for certain I can affirm, that oftentimes the devil doth cry with audible voice in the night; 'tis very shrill, almost like the barking of a dog; this I have often heard myself, but never heard that it did anybody any harm. Only this observation the inhabitants of the land have made of their voice, and I have made it also, that either just before, or very suddenly after this voice, always the king cuts off people. To believe that this is the voice of the devil, three reasons urge; because there is no creature known to the inhabitants that cries like it, and because it will on a sudden depart from one place and make a noise in another, quicker than any fowl could fly, and because the very dogs will tremble and shake when they hear it, and it is so acconnted by all the people.-Marshall's Description and Conquest of Ceylon, p. 13.

BENEVOLENCE is a duty. He who frequently practises it, and sees his benevolent intentions realised, at length comes really to love him to whom he has done good. When, therefore, it is said, "Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself," it is not meant thou shalt love him first, and do good to him in consequence of that love, but thou shalt do good to thy neighbour, and this thy beneficence will engender in thee that love to mankind which is the fulness and consummation of the inclination to do good.-Emmanuel Kant.

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FAMED-long famed-in the page of the picturesque-a locality in which artist and author love to linger, and apostrophized by the poet of nature,

"O sylvan Wye! thou wanderer through the woods," the associations of the river are, unquestionably, heightened by the graceful memorials of the past which stud its banks. Among these, the ruins of Chepstow castle occupy an extensive area, adjoining the port and market town of Chepstow, on the Wye, about two miles and a half from where it falls into the estuary of the Severn.

The advantageous situation of the town, near the mouth of the Wye, is supposed to have rendered it a powerful position, both in Roman and Saxon times. However, the assemblage of natural and artificial beauties is of the most enchanting character; for the tourist, having passed the fantastic majesty of the Piercefield cliffs, capped with magnificent woods, finds himself in Piercefield Bay. "To the right, a line of perpendicular cliffs is still seen, but crowned instead of trees with an embattled fortress; which, for a moment, might seem to have been cut out of the rocks. The view is closed by a range of red cliffs, with the magnificent iron bridge of Chepstow spanning the river. This is the last of the great views on the Wye, and, if seen under favourable circumstances of time and tide, it is one of the finest." ("The Wye and its Associations," by Leitch Ritchie.) Another tourist describes the beauties as so (6 uncommonly excellent, that the most exact critic in landscape would scarcely wish to alter a position in the assemblage of woods, cliffs, ruins, and water." Among these

VOL. III.

features, the Wye and its banks are conspicuous. The ridge of cliff on the left bank below the bridge is remarkable both for its form and variety of colouring; while, on the opposite bank above, the gigantic remains of the castle, stretching along the brink of the precipice, give an air of romance to the picture, not frequently found in one of the crowded haunts of men. From different points, the views are exceedingly beautiful-the scenery not being surpassed, perhaps, by anything similar in Britain.

The bridge is a noble structure of cast iron, erected in 1816. It has five arches resting upon stone piers; but although, in reality, a massive structure, it has, when viewed from the river, that air of lightness which iron bridges usually possess. The old bridge was composed of a level floor, carried upon wooden piers, except in the centre, where a pillar of stone, dividing Gloucester and Monmouth, was the support. Afterwards, however, stone piers were substituted for those on the Monmouth side, before the two counties joined in the erection of the present handsome structure.

The castle of Chepstow is commonly stated to have been built originally by Julius Caesar, a common paternity for old structures; in this case, ascribed only upon unauthorized assumption, fostered, though, perchance, by some idle or ill-informed topographer. For it is tolerably certain that Cæsar never was at Chepstow; and that Roman relics, although abundant in the neighbourhood, have never been discovered in the town. The plan and architecture of the castle, too, are of a much later date than the Roman dominion in Britain.

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