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the latter had only time to fly; tents, flocks, provision, all were taken; The next day wandering, separated from his friends, without resource, he took from under his clothes a loaf, and, giving the half of it to his prisoner, I know not,' said he, when we shall eat another; but I * will never be accused of not having divided my last with the friend whom I had made.' Can we hate such people, whatever may be the features of ferocity which they betray on other occasions? And what advantages over us do they not derive from this society, so striking when compared with the wants that we have created for ourselves? Can we seduce or reduce such men? Will they not always reproach us with sowing rich harvests on the graves of their forefathers." p. 44—47.

When General Menou made a tour of the department surrounding Salmia, the author notices "he was welcomed in every village in a manner more than feodal; the principal personage of the place received him and his followers, and providing them with all, and more than they could. want, at the expence, as was after wards found, of the inhabitants: this abuse, which served to develope to the French the customs of a country, the manners of which they were about to change, they suffered, for that reason, to be continued for the time.

"A large house, which had almost always belonged to a Mamluk, formerly lord and master of the village, was suddenly furnished, according to the custom of the country, with mats, carpets, and cushions. A banquet commenced by the entrance of a number of servants, bringing cold and perfumed water, pipes, and coffee; half an hour afterwards a carpet was spread, round which was formed a a border of three or four kinds of loaves and cakes, while the centre was covered with little plates of fruits, sweetmeats, creams, and other productions of the dairy, of which the greater part were exceedingly agreeable, and in particular, highly perfumed. All this seemed to be but tasted, for in a few minutes the repast was finished; but, at the end of two hours more, the same carpet was covered again; other loaves were brought, and immense dishes of rice,

dressed with fresh beef and with milk, half sheep, badly roasted, large quarters of veal, boiled heads of sheep and calves, and sixty other dishes piled upon one another, and containing spiced ragouts, vegetables, jellies, confectionaries, and honey from the hive. Here were no chairs, no plates, no spoons or forks, no goblets or napkins. Squatted on their heels, with their knees bent towards their breasts, the company helped themselves to rice with their fingers, and divided the meat with their nails. They dipped the bread in the ragouts, and used it to wipe their hands and mouths. They drank water from one pot. He that did the honours of the feast always drank first. He, also, tasted first of every dish; and this less to shew that his guests need not entertain any suspicions, than to testify how careful he was of their safety, and what attention he paid to their persons. Nap kins were not presented till after dinner, when water was brought to wash hands. After this, rose-water was sprinkled on every person present. The whole was concluded with pipes and coffee.

"When the French had eaten, people of secondary rank came in, and supplied their places, and were themselves very quickly relieved by others: on a principle of religion, a poor beggar was next admitted; then came the servants, and then every one who would, till all was ate. If there was wanting to this dinner that convenience and elegance which would have given it zest to an European, it was impossible not to admire the plenty, the hospitable profusion, and at the same time the moderation of the guests, whom the number of dishes never kept above ten minutes at table." p. 50-53.

Introducing a brief description of the advantages of Egypt, the author says, "Let us turn to behold our triumphs, and the peace re-open the port of Alexandria to sages, to industrious cultivators, to useful traders, to planters, in fine, who, without alarming themselves because Africa does not resemble Europe, will observe that in Egypt a man inay obtain for three sous a day's subsistance of the best rice in the world; that a part of the lands, which are no longer inundated, may be brought into tilth and pasture

by canals; that wind-mills would raise the water to a greater height than the pot mills at present employed, and by which so many oxen are exhausted, and so many hands occupied; that the islands of the Nile, and the greater part of the Delta, wait only for American planters, to produce fine sugar-canes from a soil that does not devour men in return: approaching Kaira, and proceeding beyond it, they will see that the ground only wants amelioration to make it the rival of every other for plantations of indigo and cotton of every species; that while they are making a prudent and certain fortune, they will breathe a pure and wholesome atmosphere, on the banks of a fertilizing and navigable river; they will see a new colony, with its cities ready built, skilful workmen accustomed to labour and to the climate, with whose assistance, and with that of canals which are traced to their hands, they will in a few years create new provinces, the future abundance of which is not questionable, şince modern industry will restore to them their ancient splendour." p. 58,

59.

"The anniversary of the birth of Mohammed arrived. The French remarked that no preparations were made for celebrating this the most solemn festival of the hegirian year. Towards evening, General Menou sent for the mufti, both whose dignities and whose emoluments had been increased by the arrival of the army. It was found that this man had seized the opportunity of representing the French to the people as averse to the ceremonies of religion, insinuating that they had forbidden the rejoicings of the day. On his being desired to proclaim them immediately, he said the time was now too short for the preparations; but being answered in the oriental style, that if the time was too short to make preparations, it was yet long enough to put the mufti in irons, the festival was proclaimed within a quarter of an hour, the town was illuminated, and the songs of devotion were united with those of joy and gratitude." p. 64, 65.

Then follows an account of the festivity, concluding with the description of their manner of dancing, which, says the author, represented neither joy nor gaiety, but voluptuousness,

which soon became lascivious, and extremely disgusting.

In describing Kaira, and the man ners of the people, the author writes thus:

"M. Denon was nearly a month at Kaira, during which he extended bus researches throughout this superb city, this holy city, great among the great; this delight of the imagi nation, the splendours and opulence of which call forth the smile of the prophet; for such are the terms in which it is spoken of by the orien tals. In point of fact he saw an innumerable population, and extensive spaces for passengers; but not a siagle fine street, not a single beautiful building. There is a vast space, with the air of a field, called Lelbequier, wherein general Bonaparte resided: this, at the time of the inundation, had in it something agreeable, on account of its coolness, and the parties made on it at night in barges. (A representation is given in an engraving) The palaces of Kaira, encircled with walls, sadden more than they embel lish the streets. The habitations of the poor, still more neglected here than any where else, add to what is distressing in the sight of misery in all places, all the privations and negligence which the climate peculiarly permits. The observer is incessantly tempted to ask, where are the habitations of the four-and-twenty sovereigns? When, however, he has penetrated these species of fortresses, he finds some conveniences, some refinement of luxury; fine marble baths, voluptuous stoves, mosaic chambers, in the midst of which are basons of water and fountains, mattresses covered with rich stuffs, and surrounded with magnificent cushions: these divans commonly occupy three sides of the room. The windows, where there are any, never open; and the light which they admit is dimmed by coloured glass, within very closely reticulated grates: the principal light usually enters from a dome in the center of the ceiling. The orientals, strangers to all the uses we make of light, care very little for procuring it. Generally speaking, every thing they admire is favourable to repose; 25, divans, on which one is rather laid than seated, on which one is at ease,

*The Beys are twenty-four in number.

and from which it is troublesome to move; garments, of which the lower parts are petticoats, by which the legs are confined; large sleeves, which fall eight inches below the finger's ends; a turban, with which it is impossible to how the head; a habit of holding in one hand a pipe, with the vapour of which the brain is intoxicated, and in the other a rosary, of which the beads are passed between the fingers; all this destroys activity, destroys imagination: they think with out an object; without relish do the same thing every day; and finish with having lived, without having endeavoured to vary the monotony of their existence.

"The manners of such as are oblig. ed to labour, are not very different from those of the rich. Accustomed to expect from their industry nothing beyond the ordinary routine, they never exert themselves with that hope. They never invent a method of doing better, nor seek for that which is invented; and they always reject any in which they are obliged to stand, a position for which they have the greatest aversion. The joiner, the locksmith, the carpenter, the farrier, all work sitting; even the mason raises a minaret without being ever on his legs. Like savages, they seldom use more than one tool. One is quite astonished at what they are capable of doing; and one would be disposed to believe them ingenious if, adhering constantly to usage, they did not soon force one to think that, like the insect whose workmanship we admire, they are guided by an instinct from which they cannot stray.

"But is it not despotism, which commanding always, recompensing never, is the source and permanent cause of this stagnation of industry ? In Upper Egypt, the Arabian artifi

cers, at a distance from their masters, sought the French military manufacturers, worked with them, and certain of adequate wages, laboured to give satisfaction, recommencing their toil when they had committed mistakes; they looked with enthusiasm at the operation of the windmill, and gazed on the effects of the rammer with transports of admiration: a secret sentiment of indolence inspired, perhaps, this admiration for two machines, which assisted the heaviest labours necessity has imposed upon VOL. 1.

them; that of raising water, and forming banks to retain it. They. build as little as they can help; they never repair any thing. If a wall threatens to tumble, it is left to do so. There are still some rooms in the house, and they lay the ruins on one side. At length the whole building falls; and in this case they abandon the scite; or if they are obliged to clear it, they carry the rubbish as short a distance as possible; it is this latter practice which has raised around every town in Egypt, and particularly Kaira, not eminences, but mountains, by which the eyes of the traveller is astonished, and for which he is at first unable to account." p. 103 -106.

The following may give our readers some idea of the magnificence of the burial places of the Egyptians.

"The minarets and the tombs are the only fabrics in which the Arabian style is preserved with integrity; and if in this there be not found that which ought to be the beauty of architecture, an assuring solidity; there is at least observed with pleasure ornaments which produce richness without heaviness, and an elegance so complete in all its parts, that it never excites the idea of insipidity or meanness. The cemetery of the Mamlukes affords examples on leaving the masses of Kaira, we are perfectly sur prized at beholding another city built entirely of white marble, in which the edifices, composed of columns surmounted by domes, or painted palamkins, sculptured and gift, form an elegant and cheerful assemblage. There wants nothing but trees, to render this funeral retreat a scene of delight." p. 109.

:

(To be concluded in our next.)

CXXXVI. POEMS, by MRS. JOHN

HUNTER, foolscap 8vo.

RS. H. dedicates this beautiful

M little work to her son, Captain

H. at Gibraltar, The contents are as follow:

"November-Ode to the Old Year -La Douce Chimere-To Mrs. G. of the Priory, Cornwall-Ode to Conduit Vale-To Mrs. Delainy-To the Memory of Chatterton--To my Son at School-To my Daughter-To the Nightingale-Carisbrook Castle-To the Memory of a Lovely Intant-Vow 4 B

Of poverty, restraint, or pain,

to Fortune-Laura-Wine-Time- Parent of hope, love's truest friend, To James Barry, Esq.-To a Friend Without thee all our joys would end, on New Year's Day-Elegy on W. And dull existence fade : Seward, Esq.-Epitaph for my Fa-Tis thine to gild the darkest scene ther-Songs, Elegies, Dirges, &c. &c. Among which are included the Lamentation of Mary Queen of Scots, the Cherokee Death Song, and some other publications, in considerable favour with the public.

We shall give the following specimens from the different classes of composition.

"LA DOUCE CHIMERE.
"Sweet fancy, let me sing thy praise,
Thou kind companion of my days,
Through infancy and youth;

O let me, în a riper age,
Thy fairy favours still engage,

And blend thy charms with truth.

Gift of kind heav'n, dear wand'ring sprite,
'Tis thou canst opposites unite,

And pleasures mix with pain;
Without thy aid, the sons of art
To charm the eye, or touch the heart,
Shall toil, and toil in vain.

To warm, to polish and refine
The judgment and the taste, are thine,

To aid where knowledge fails;
How exquisite thy finer sense,
How far beyond the vain pretence,

Where letter'd pride prevails!

Through the dim eye thy piercing ray
Beams on the mind a brighter day,

Where genius stands confess'd;
'Tis thine to light the prison's gloom,
'Tis thine to live beyond the tomb,
In fond affection's breast.

Thy art can on the moon's beam send
The heart's warm wish from friend to friend,

Through air and ocean's waste,
And on some bright unchanging star,
Though absent long, and distant far,

Remembrance may be plac'd.
'Tis happiness to dwell with thee;
Whate'er we think, whate'er we see,
Glows with a brighter dye;
All nature wears a lively green,
The heav'ns expand a blue serene,
And man forgets to sigh.
Or should a sigh unbidden rise,
On thy light wing the vagrant flies,
To seek some tender woe,
Our better feelings to awake,
Teaching for love for pity's sake,

Delicious tears to flow.

Nor wealth can buy, nor pow'r command,
One circle from thy magic wand,

To charm the phantom care;
Born with the soul, thy living light
Beams forth in wayward fortune's spite,
Nor deigns her gifts to share,

In life's obscurest shade.

Let me then still thy dreams pursue,
For ever bright, for ever new,

Time's tangled path to cheer;
Let me believe I still may find
The warm, sincere, congenial mind,
And meet LA DOUCE CHIMERS.
p. 9-12.

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TO MY DAUGHTER.

On being separated from her on her Marriage.
"Dear to my heart as life's warm stream,
Which animates this mortal clay,
For thee I court the waking dream,

And deck with smiles the future day;
And thus beguile the present pain,
With hopes that we shall meet again.
Yet will it be, as when the past

Twin'd ev'ry joy, and care, and thought,
And o'er our minds one mantle cast

Of kind affections finely wrought?
Ah no! the groundless hope were vain,
For so we ne'er can meet again!
May he who claims thy tender heart

Deserve its love as I have done!
For, kind and gentle as thou art,

If so belov'd, thou'rt fairly won. Bright may the sacred torch remain, And cheer thee till we meet again!" p. 55, 34.

"TO THE MEMORY OF A LOVELY INFANT.

Written Seven Years after his Death. "Still as the circling months successive climb,

With ling'ring footsteps, up the steep of time,
Bleak February frowns in his return,
And crowns with cypress a sepulchral urn.
For me he still a mournful aspect wears,
And still receives the tribute of my tears.
Are not the ills enough which time supplies,
To check the dawning comforts in their
rise?

Must memory too the present evils aid,
And tinge with darker hues life's deep'ning
shade?

Must woes on woes accumulated roll,
And cloud with care the sunshine of the

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h, no! revolving years in vain depart, The traces still remain upon my heart! When lost in grief my eyes refus'd a tear, nstinctive fondness sought his silent bier, Hope whisper'd, sure he sleeps,' I wildly press'd

The lovely image to my aching breast,
And felt the fearful chill of nature's awful

rest.

Now I can weep, and oft in thought recall
The closing scene, the coffin, and the pall.
The solemn knell of death, I heard it toll;
How heavily it struck my wounded soul!
'Tis long since past; forgetfulness has
spread

Her misty mantle o'er unnumber'd dead;
But fond affection lingers in the gloom;
Near the dim lamp that glinimers o'er the
tomb.

She graves with trembling hand the mournful rhyme,

Where memory recals departed time, Brings back in one short hour the dream of years,

And sprinkles on the grave a mother's tears." p. 55-57.

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"THE WANDERING LADY. "Through dreary wilds forlorn I go, When loud the storms of winter blow; On me they waste their rage in vain, For I can feel nor joy nor pain. My sheep, companions kind and true, Yes, I can feel a pang for you; Come gather round, and I will keep The watch, and sing while you shall sleep. Ah, these were once my lover's care, Of all the flock he held them dear; With me they left their native fold, And brav'd the winds of winter cold. They follow wheresoe'er I lead, And while I sit and see them feed, Methinks the sunny days return, Ere yet my heart had learnt to mourn. To mourn a father's cruel pride, By whose rash hand my lover died; O cruel, cruel was the deed, That caus'd so kind a heart to bleed. O youth belov'd, thy voice no more Can peace to my sad soul restore; To seek thy native hills I fly, Where thou wert born I go to die!" p. 77, 78.

"A MERMAID'S SONG. "Now the dancing sun-beanis play On the green and glassy sea; Come, and I will lead the way,

Where the pearly treasures be. Come with me, and we will go Where the rocks of coral grow; Follow, follow, follow me. Come, behold what treasures lie

Deep below the rolling waves,
Riches hid from human eye

Dimly shine in ocean's caves;
Stormy winds are far away,
Ebbing tides brook no delay;
Follow, follow, follow me." p. 104.

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