cient to state, that after traversing perhaps thousands of miles of desert in a comparatively compact mass, they generally break up on their arrival in Cairo, each trader repairing to the locality where the articles he brings are usually stored. Thus, although the wakâlahs were intended to be miscellaneous depôts, many of them have gradually become set apart for particular classes of merchandise: so that there are rice wakâlahs, and wheat wakâlahs, and date wakâlahs, and manufacture wakâlahs; and especially slave wakâlahıs. All sorts of articles, however, are temporarily stowed away in the courtyards of these buildings, which are often encumbered with bales, barrels, and especially with huge millstones, cut from the quarries of Gebel-el-Ahmar. Many are no longer resorted to by commerce; and long rows of tailors' and shoemakers' shops may be seen under the colonnades.

I have already hinted that the time when the greatest quantity of merchandise is brought to be stored in the wakalahs is on the arrival of the pilgrim caravan, especially the outward-bound one. The Orientals continue to reconcile their interests with their devotions; and it is very rarely that they do not enter into speculations both in going to the sacred city and in returning. At any rate they think it proper that they should reimburse the expenses of the journey, and bring home some presents for their friends. The dangers to which they expose their lives they consider sufficiently meritorious without any pecuniary sacrifice. It is vulgarly believed in Egypt that the pilgrims are always well provided with money; and I have often sat with the native merchants, and observed those holy men, though poor and ragged in appearance, making extensive purchases, generally without the furious bargaining which distinguishes the Egyptians. These are of course not the regular traders, but people who, according to the established custom, wish to indemnify themselves by a little investment for the cost of their pilgrimage. Some of the more uncivilised Moghrebbis bring nothing but jars of oil, which they will only sell for Spanish dollars; others barter their wares for shawls and silks, which they dispose of no doubt at an enormous profit in their own country.

The portion of the wakâlah buildings which may be compared to a hotel is situated over the magazines, and is sometimes divided into as many as thirty or forty houses, all of which have separate entrances from the gallery, which, as I have said, runs round the whole quadrangle, and receives light and air from the courtyard. This gallery is seldom regular or handsomely built, though its proportions are sometimes majestic. Many of the wakâlahs belong to a single proprietor, others are divided amongst several. Rent is very low, but is always paid in advance. The houses are never furnished, but all that is required is generally bought by the travellers, who are satisfied with a few mats, carpets, blankets, and rugs, cooking utensils, boxes, &c. Those who find it necessary, on account of their having their women with them, take a whole house to themselves, setting apart the upper rooms, often reached by a steep, tortuous staircase, ending in a sort of trap-door, for the harem and their more portable and precious articles of merchandise, whilst they reserve the lower portion for their own use. A seggadeh, and a few cushions arranged in a raised recess, or upon a kafass, form the divan upon which the merchant, often a man of considerable wealth, receives visits of compliment or business. A slave or servant is always at hand to present coffee and pipes; and in these matters alone is any luxury displayed. Not uncommonly a party fortuitously collected take a house in common, each spreading his mat in a different room, whilst some coffee-shop awhile serves as a place of réunion. To this they repair very early in the morning-all Orientals rise betimes-and obtain for ten paras (little more than a halfpenny) a cup of coffee, and a shisheh or gozeh-the first the regular water-pipe, like the hookah; the second the Egyptian narghileh, with a cocoa-nut instead of a

glass or metal bell, and a straight tube formed of cane instead of a flexible tube or snake. The luxurious Syrians pass the smoke through iced water; but this is a refinement unknown in Cairo.

After partaking of the morning meal, the denizens of the wakâlah disperse through the bazaars, in order to buy and sell, visit their debtors, receive money, or ascertain the state of the market. At noon, the more prosperous or extravagant return to enjoy a pilau or a dish of bamias; whilst others sit down wherever they may find themselves, and are content with bread and cheese, perhaps with a water-melon or a handful of dates. A siesta generally follows, and then business occupies them until sunset, when the great meal of the day takes place. In the evening, nearly all repair to a coffee-shop, where they end, as they began, with Mokka and Gebeli, talk about money or merchandise, brag of the wealth of their fathers, and of their own poverty, or listen to the performances of some professional singer or story-teller.

An incident that came under my own observation may be selected as an illustration of the accidents which strangers who put up in the wakâlahs are in the way of encountering. Near the entrance gate of one of these buildings there was a coffee-shop, kept by one Ibn Daood, whose good tumbak (the tobacco smoked in shishehs) used often to lure me into spending half an hour with him. Close at hand was a little cobbler's stall. It was a dull season, and the wakalah was nearly deserted; so that almost the only customers for the half-dozen shishehs and gozehs of the coffee-shops were chance passengers; and the cobbler lacked a regular demand for his labours, there being no red shoes worn with travel requiring his attention. The consequence was, that the cobbler passed half his time in the coffeeshop, spending his savings, and having his ears tickled by the interested sympathy of Ibn Daood, who pocketed several khamsehs, or five-para pieces, daily by the cir cumstance. Whenever I stepped in and took my seat on a kafass within ear-shot of these two worthies, I invariably found that their talk was of wealth, and I heard their tongues discourse glibly of sums which it never entered into my imagination to covet. The whole worldly possessions of one seemed to be a few pipes, a coffee-pot or two, some small palm branch kafasses, and a huge earthen pot,, that, standing in one corner of the shop, with a cooling bottle beside it, was daily filled with water, sometimes flavoured with mastic, for the gratuitous use of any passer-by who chose to step in. The cobbler's stock in trade was smaller still. He had a sharp knife, an iron block to cut out leather upon, a few red sheep-skins, a couple of awls, and the clothes he stood up in; and he used to sleep sometimes on one of Ibn Daood's benches, sometimes with the bawab of the wakâlah, sometimes in his own little stall. And yet these two miserable beings dared to raise their hopes to millions of golden pieces, to spend them in imagination, and, with remarkable consciousness of their own Arab characters, to contemplate a return in their old age to their primitive humble employments. It did not strike me at the moment that these enervating aspirations might lead to the commission of crime; but I amused myself by listening to their wild speculation, and sometimes joined in the dialogue. My Frank scep ticism, however, was not at all pleasing to their heated fancies. At length a third dreamer joined the party. This was a coffee-pounder, who used to stop, with his pestle and mortar, to ask for work, and generally to get none.

Things were going on in this way when, one day, three camels heavily laden, and one with a tachterwan, or awning, covered closely with carpets, were seen slowly turning into the wakâlah. The whole party happened to be collected, and by an instinctive movement of curiosity went to stare at the new arrival.

Aysh fee khabar?'-['What is the news?"] I inquired of Ibn Daood on his return. 'A merchant from the Moghreb (west),' said he, with his harem; four bales

IMPROVEMENTS IN THE HIGHLANDS.

'In the course of a ramble in Banffshire in 1843,' says the editor of the Inverness Courier, we noticed a rural improvement then commenced by the late Sir George Macpherson Grant of Ballindalloch-the reclamation of a tract of waste land about 200 acres in extent, which in some parts was covered with several feet of moss. Last week we revisited the spot, and saw the ground in full occupation as a farm, all thoroughly drained, and producing abundant crops. The works were finished in 1844, and since then, Marypark, as the farm is called, has produced 1400 quarters of grain, exclusive of the present year's crop, besides having each year about forty acres under turnip, and maintaining from seventy to eighty head of cattle. The spirit of agricultural improvement characteristic of the late proprietor has descended to his son, Sir John Macpherson Grant, who has already laid off a farm adjoining Marypark of about 100 acres, one-fifth of which will be in crop next year. He has also improved forty-five other acres by trenching and thorough-draining. The tenants on the estate have caught the contagion, and one of the number (Mr Robertson, Burnside) has 120 acres marked for improvement, twothirds of which are to be trenched, thorough-drained, and enclosed. He expects the whole to be completed in about two years from the present time. These tenants' improvements are effected by advances made under the drainage act, the government inspector and the proprietor together selecting the portions most likely to yield a good return. Small crofters paying only L.2 of rent share in this advantage the same as large tenants. All is done by contract, and in many cases the tenant or his sons contract for portions of the work, thus earning the means of liming or manuring the land, and putting it into a productive state. The interest demanded by the proprietor is six per cent., but it is not chargeable till after the first crop at Martinmas. These rural improvements have made the estate of Ballindalloch a scene of busy industry for the last year or two. Above two hundred persons were at work, and the general aspect, the amenity, and productiveness of the soil will be all altered for the better. We have occasionally,' says the same paper, called attention to the spirited improvements carried on by Mr Rose, farmer, Kirkton on the lands of Leanachs, rented by him from Culloden, and situated close by the battle-field; and have just learned with very great pleasure that Mr Forbes has marked in a most flattering way his sense of the importance of the labours of Mr Rose. On Saturday, Mr Rose was invited to Culloden House, where an elegant piece of silver plate, valued at fully L.30, was presented to him by his young but excellent landlord. In eight years Mr Rose expended L.6000 on his improvements, and reclaimed two hundred acres of land! His operations were upon Drummossie Muir, but he has carefully abstained from any intrusion upon the graves of those who fell on that fatal field. He has cut on the farms 63,000 yards of drains, or about thirty-six miles!-has erected 5000 yards of double stone dike, and 2700 yards of feal dike, which will be faced with stone; and has laid upon these reclaimed lands 10,000 bolls of lime. In addition to all this, he erected at his own expense, in 1845, a splendid slated farm-steading. When one contrasts such a record as this with the miserable accounts daily received from Ireland, of ejectments, of seizures of crop, of burnings of houses, and of murders that almost invariably follow; and of the poverty and distress prevailing generally wherever the tenant-at-will system exists, it surely says something not only for the spirit of the tenant and the excellence of the landlord, but also something for the superiority of the legal relation betwixt landlord and tenant now general in all the more forward districts of Scotland. No tenant would peril such an amount of money, or carry on plans of improvement so extensive, unless backed and sheltered by a lease. We have little doubt that already Mr Rose has reaped a portion of the reward which is his due.'

MORAL SEASONS.

With many persons the early age of life is passed in sowing in their minds the vices that are most suitable to their inclinations; the middle age goes on in nourishing and maturing these vices; and the last age concludes in gathering, in pain and anguish, the bitter fruits of these most accursed seeds.-D'Argonne.

DO OR DON'T.

I hate to see a thing done by halves: if it be right, do it boldly; if it be wrong, leave it undone.-Gilpin.

TO AN OLD VOLUME OF ROBINSON CRUSOE.
My ancient favourite! while I bend

On thee my fascinated gaze,
The voice of some old pleasant friend
Seems talking of my childish days.
Such sweet and mingling memories cling
About the dear familiar page;
Back to my mind they freshly bring

The joys of that light-hearted age.
Time shakes not thine established sway
So long as boys and girls there be;
Forgotten tasks, neglected play,

Will prove thy changeless witchery.
To me what real life they seemed,

While yet thy graphic scenes were new!
Admiring childhood never dreamed

They could be otherwise than true.

I read till twilight's gradual shade
The letters to confusion turned,
Then stooping to the fire I read,

Till eyes and forehead ached and burned.
When bedtime came, the volume lay
Beneath my pillow closed in vain-

I spent the hours till dawn of day
With Crusoe in his lone domain.
Girl as I was, I felt thy spell,

My cherished day-dream for a while,
How I, like thee, should one day dwell

On some far-off unpeopled isle!
Since then, old friend! I've learned too well
How desert islands there may be,
Surrounded by the roar and swell
Of human life's great restless sca.
To be shut out from sympathy,
Unloved, and little understood,
The heart feels all too bitterly

How deep that real solitude!
For cast away' I too have been ;
Just such a lonely spot was mine;
As desolate, although I ween

Not half so beautiful as thine.
Its culture was a sickening toil,
For the green things I planted there
Refused to grow in such a soil,
Or withered in the chilling air.

I had my cats and parrots too,
Bright flutterers with plumage gay,
Who not, like thine, attached and true,
Chattered of love, and flew away.
And those sleek silky friends whose stay
Lingered till they could wound no more,
While the rough billows washed away

The few strange footsteps on the shore.
I watched till hope itself was spent,
While some fair bark went heedless by,
And signal after signal sent,

Till distance mocked my straining eye.
Love's language, all unused, grew strange,
Not even a Friday turned to me,

I had but God, whose eye can range
O'er field and desert equally.

And now that those dark days are gone,
And that I am at home again,

A life in Eden's bowers alone

I feel would be a life of pain.

The loving tone, the kindly glance,
Must be the spirit's longed-for food,
Despite the rose-hue of romance
Which sheds such charms o'er solitude.
Had we no love, no friend to greet,

What would our human nature be?
Sure Heaven's rich anthems rise more sweet
Because they're sung in company!

E. A. G.

Published by W. & R. CHAMBERS, High Street, Edinburgh. Also sold by D. CHAMBERS, 98 Miller Street, Glasgow: W. S. ORE, 147 Strand, London; and J. M'GLASHAN, 21 D'Olier Street, Dublin.-Printed by W. and R. CHAMBERS, Edinburgh.

EDINBURGH

No. 259. NEW SERIES.

THE CROSSCAUSEWAY CLUB. EARLY in the winter of 1787, a few lads who had been schoolfellows and playmates in the Crosscauseway, a humble street in the suburbs of Edinburgh, celebrated by Walter Scott as the residence of his hero Greenbreeks, met together one evening in the house of a friend. It was a pleasant and not particularly silent assemblage; the enjoyment of a social chat was the object which drew them together, and their merriment was not the less that the place of meeting was a small garret room at the top of a house seven storeys high, and lighted by a penny candle, which had been as good as begged for the occasion.

PRICE 11d.

ciple of the society. The club began with five or six, but subsequently was increased to thirteen members. At the time they commenced operations, books were not easily got. There were no cheap publications in those days, and few even at a moderate price. The only way of obtaining a book at a cost within ordinary bounds of possibility, was to pick it up at a stall; and from the keeper of one of these venerable depositories of literature, at the foot of the High School Wynd, our party of self-improvers managed to secure a decayed copy of Euclid, an English grammar, and a Latin Rudiments.

With these aids to study, the business of mutual teaching was begun; and in about six months afterwards

་

'I am not talking in jest,' added the first speaker. 'I do not mean any sort of convivial affair, but a society for reading and instruction. I have an idea that we might do a great deal in the way of teaching and improving each other. One knows one thing, and another knows something else. Would it not be an excellent plan to melt down into a lump, as it were, all that we individually know, and then distribute a fair share of the whole to each ?'

'First-rate idea!' was the general declaration. ‘When shall we set the thing on foot?'

'I vote for meetings twice a week as long as we can hold together,' said a lad of shrewd parts; and that Hogmanay evening, the last night of December, shall be our anniversary.'

The proposition was carried. Without reflecting on the nature of the engagement, all pledged themselves to meet, if in their power, on the last night of every year during the whole term of their lives; and that, in the event of inability to attend, the absentee should forward a letter explaining the cause of absence. The purpose of the annual meeting was to talk over young days; to relate matters of personal adventure to each other; and to ask and give mutual counsel and assistance.

From the whimsicality of the proposition, it might be inferred that the impossibility of carrying it out would soon be apparent, and that after one or two years, the whole thing would dissolve, and be no more heard of. Such, however, was not the case. In this cluster of youngsters there was something more than usual. A congeniality of disposition seemed to unite them in close friendship, and they stuck together with amazing tenacity. Perhaps something was due to the clannish spirit which has always distinguished the Crosscauseway boys; but after all, a general desire for mutual improvement was the primary cementing prin

nity for the Latin, and an old soldier who could smatter a little French, helped to forward the scheme of instruction; but beyond this no external aid was sought. As time went on, the members found their mental capacities not a little expanded; and they undertook the writing of essays for debate at their evening meetings. Little superior to the ordinary compositions of young men of indifferent education, these essays nevertheless evinced that their authors were thoroughly in earnest in their pursuit of mental improvement. Being at the mercy of general criticism, any tendency to superficiality, carelessness of diction, or unsoundness of logic, was peremptorily checked. A material benefit which arose from the practice of essay writing, was the degree of self-reliance it imposed. It compelled the writers to think; and though they might not always think rightly, the mind was exercised-a point of no little importance to the young and aspiring. Probably the practice was also negatively advantageous; for it occupied attention during leisure hours, and may have prevented indulgence in profitless or unworthy pursuits.

We need say no more of the mutual-instruction part of the plan, than that it contributed to advance in life several members of the society. It also gave to nearly all a greater zest in their respective occupations, for the pleasures derived from the pursuit of knowledge are independent of mere worldly station. A mentallytrained artisan has an infinitely greater enjoyment of life than one who is acquainted with little more than animal sensations. How sped, meanwhile, the anniversary meetings? It is of these we would chiefly speak, because it must be curious to know how long the association remained without a break in its membership, or rather how long any were left to meet on the appointed Hogmanay evening. The imagination was excited with the idea of an annual assemblage which should stretch on till the extinction of thirteen individuals; and many a laugh was raised among the young men, as the members pictured to themselves one hobbling into the meeting on a crutch, another carried in a sedan, and all