to the novel aspect and manners of a foreign country. It is only by noting down on the spot, and at the moment, what strikes you, that you can secure the force of these first impressions; and when you afterwards refer to these notes, you are often no little astonished to find amid what really curious people and things you are existing, and yet how completely all the strangeness has vanished from your consciousness." First impressions will be, of course, most vividly made by those objects or manners which differ the widest from the national habits or customs of the traveller. Mr Howitt, a wanderer from England, where the public ways are the best paved and best kept in the world, is sorely perplexed by the

STREETS OF GERMANY.

"As you proceed through the streets, you find around you gabled and picturesque white buildings, old squares and markets, with avenues of limes, or of dwarf acacias; people, many of them in the garb of centuries ago; and dreadful pavements. Coleridge has celebrated the six-and-thirty stenches of Cologne, and the invention of Cologne water to cover them; but a wide acquaintance with German towns leaves me the conviction, that Cologne can boast no more queer odours than any other of the towns of the nation; for in most of them, as we shall have to show, every street, almost every house, and every hour, has its own appropriate, peculiar, and by no means enviable smell. The pavements, with a few exceptions, are of the most hobbly and excruciating kind. There appears no evidence of any systematic attention to them, or management of them. To pass through a German town or village in a carriage is one of the most rib-trying events in this life. But to walk through one is not much less hazardous. Russell, in his day, tells us, that to avoid being run over on the pavé by a barrow, you often step into the peril of getting your head split with an axe, or your arm torn off by a saw, from the people who are cutting up piles of firewood before the doors. This is pretty much the case yet. The pavés, where there are any, seem appropriated to every purpose but that of walking. There is a bit of pavement here, a bit there, or rather not a bit there. It looks as if the causeway was left entirely to the care, or want of care, of the householders. Here is a bit of good pavement; in a few yards is a piece of the worst and most uneven pitching, evidently done ages ago. Here you go up a step, and there you go down one. If an Englishman, accustomed to his well-payed and well-regulated towns, was suddenly set down in a German town at night, he would speedily break his neck or his bones, put out an eye, or tear off a cheek. The towns, and that only on dark and moonless nights, are badly lit by lamps, hung, as in France, from a rope across the street. Here one twinkles, and at a vast and solitary distance, glimmers another. Even Vienna is lighted up with oil; and Dresden, and one or two other towns, are the only ones where we have met with gas. All manner of trap-doors, leading down into cellars, are in the pavés, and none of them very carefully levelled with the flagging or pebbles. Their covers often cock up their corners, faced with iron in such a way that you strike your toes most cruelly against them. All manner of flights of steps, from shops and houses, are set upon the pavement, are pushed out one-third of the width across them, and sometimes wholly across them, so that a man, whom daylight and a few trips over them had not made aware of them, would blunder headlong. As he fell, a strong iron bar, about a foot long, sticking out of the wall of the house, would probably strike his face, and give him a desperate wound. These bars of iron are what the worthy shopkeepers rear their shutters upon in the day-time; and at night, when the shutters are put up, they stand out naked from the wall about the height of your face or shoulders, and give you the most horrid shocks as you inadvertently strike against them. Then, every hundred yards, you are stopped by a great wood-heap, and its busy sawers and cleavers, or by a wagon, or a carriage, which is set on the trottoir to be out of the way. These nuisances, which would not be tolerated in the worst-regulated country towns of England for a single week, here remain for ages. The Germans, accustomed to them, avoid them as we should avoid walking into a fire or a horse-pond; and when you point them out, are not at all surprised that such things should be, but that you should think them anything extraordinary."

Though the Germans might take a lesson from us in the management of their streets, we may derive another from them in providing wholesome and necessary recreation for the people. This they do by means of

PUBLIC GARDENS.

There is one advantage that their towns universally possess over ours; and that is, in the abundance of public walks, and public gardens and promenades, where every citizen can wander, or can sit and rejoice with his family and his friends. All round their towns, in general, you find these ample public walks and promenades planted with trees and furnished with seats. The old walls and ramparts, which formerly gave security to the inhabitants, are now converted into sources of their highest pleasures, being thus planted and seated, and made scenes of the gayest resort, and whence the finest views are obtained over the surrounding country. The suburbs and neighbourhood of all large cities, again, are full of public gardens; with alleys and extensive woodland walks, where the

If all

let's walk down some comfortable alley!" classes in this country were to mix as freely as the above passage describes them to do in Germany, the tastes and manners of the lower orders would refine and improve.

In a book of this kind, which touches upon every variety of topic, it is difficult to select passages for extract. We cannot resist, however, amusing our readers with the following incident which occurs in a journey made by the author :

CHEAP JUSTICE.

people all summer flock out, and find refreshments at cofree-houses, and bands of music, presided over by the first masters in Germany. The cities being seldom very large, the people thus enjoy a sort of half city half rural life, but, refined and beautified with social and artistical influences, of which ours is too much stripped. In England, every man takes care of himself, and makes his own nest snug; besides lighting and paving, little seems done for the public in our towns. Here, on the contrary, the public enjoyment seems to be the favourite and prevailing idea, and you see around you perpetual evidences of its working. The people have in the outskirts of their cities their "We dined at the house of the forstmeister, near vineyards, and their summer-houses in them, where which is also an inn, and were waited on by his pretty they can go with their families and friends. But and merry daughter; and on leaving, experienced a they have, again, their great public gardens and wood- striking instance of good sense in a village bürgerlands all round their large towns, to ten or a dozen meister. The man with the vorspan had contrived, miles' distance. They have similar places of more while we were looking at the castle and dining, to rustic resort, often on the most beautiful mountain persuade our kutcher that we had another hill to heights, and in mountain valleys, to which they pour ascend, and that it would be impossible for him to out on Sundays and leisure days, in carriages and by reach the next village without taking him farther.* railroads, by thousands. Here they have wine, and The forstmeister's daughter said, 'Nothing of the curds, and often dinners. Here they even come with kind; it was all descent, and most of it steep.' Still their families, taking whole troops of children with the kutcher was so much frightened, that he would them; and there you find them in old orchards, amid not go on without the man. I therefore told the man castle ruins, under the trees, and, in short, through all that he might go on at a fixed price, and if there the surrounding hills and valleys. They dine in great proved to be up-hill, I would pay him; if nothing but family groups, the men sitting often in their shirt down-hill, I would not. He went on, and all was sleeves; the children rolling in the grass; and the rapid down-hill. When, therefore, he took off his landlords hurrying about, dealing out plates and viands horses at the point where his homeward way diverged, to hungry people, in a broil of what seems hopeless I hurry. They afterwards smoke their pipes, drink their coffee, and go home at an early hour as happy as this earth can make them.

In every country town and village it is the same. You can go into few or none of the former, where you will not find public walks and gardens; and will not hear of charming places, some four, six, or ten miles' distant, where all the world goes in the summer, in parties, to walk about, to drink coffee, to pic-nic in the woods, and so on. There is not a country inn in a pleasant place, but it has its orchard and its garden fitted up with seats and tables for this simple rural festivity. There is not a ruin of a castle, or old jäger-house, where you do not find walks and seats, and every provision for popular enjoyment. Everywhere the Germans have seized on all those picturesque points and scenes of rural beauty which afford means of carrying out and cultivating this mingled love of nature and of social pleasure. You come upon seats in wild spots, where you would otherwise never have dreamed of many besides yourself coming, and there you are sure to find that before you lies a beautiful view.

All royal gardens, too, are open, and the people walk in them, and stream round the palaces, passing, in many instances, through their very courts and gateways, just as if they were their own. Nay, the royal and ducal owners walk about amongst the people with as little ceremony as any of the rest. The emperor of Austria, or the king of Prussia, does the very same. You may meet them anywhere; and little more ceremony is used towards them than is used towards any other individual, simply that of lifting your hat in passing, which is done to all your acquaintance, and is returned as a mark of ordinary salutation. You will see princes sitting in public places with their friends, with a cup of coffee, as unassumingly and as little stared at as any respectable citizen. You may sometimes see a grand-duke come into a country inn, call for his glass of ale, drink it, pay for it, and go away as unceremoniously as yourself. The consequence of this easy familiarity is, that princes are everywhere popular, and the daily occurrence of their presence amongst the people prevents that absurd crush and stare at them which prevails in more luxurious and exclusive countries."

refused to pay him, and he became very violent and menacing. I told him, that, if he insisted on the payment, he must come to the next village to the bürgermeister, and ordered the coachman to drive on. He attempted to stop the horses, the coachman appeared frightened, and it seemed likely in that wild spot to be a troublesome affair. My firmness, however, prevailed; the coachman drove on, and the man followed. At the village inn I inquired for the bürgermeister, and the wirth cried out to a servant, Hole den schmied'

fetch the blacksmith. I replied I did not want the blacksmith, but the bürgermeister. It is the same man,' said he. Presently appeared the blacksmith in his shirt-sleeves, and tolerably smutty, from the forge. When he had heard the case, and the man was running on very volubly in his Swabian dialect-Stop!' said the worthy welder of iron. "There needs only one word. Did you put your horses before the carriage or behind it?" Before, to be sure,' replied the man, very confidently. Then,' answered honest Vulcan, you can go about your business. Everybody knows that it's all down hill from Lichstenstein hither, and who wants a vorspan to pull him down hill? Had you put your horses behind to drag, I would have awarded you your money. A number of people in the inn before which this primitive administration of justice took place, and amongst them some genteel-looking travellers, all applauded this judgment. Not the highest minister of the realm could have given a more prompt and better one, and certainly not a cheaper; for the good man refused to receive anything for his trouble, even to partake of a bottle of wine; but wiping his mouth on his shirt-sleeve, drank a glass of beer at his own cost, expressed his satisfaction in being able to prevent imposition on a stranger, and only begged, that if we saw a countryman of his in similar need, we would help him if we could."

THE MAID OF ORLEANS. JOAN OF ARC, the Maid of Orleans, was a person of so much distinction in her own times, and has been so often named in song and story, that the details of her career must possess interest for the majority of general readers. She was born about 1410 or 1412, at Domremy, a village situated in a smiling valley, watered by the Meuse, on the border-lines of ChamThough the subject of appropriating open spaces pagne and Lorraine. The father of Joan was a for promenades has long occupied public attention in humble peasant, named James d'Arc, and her mother this country, yet the plan has not been carried out so was Isabel Romé, which latter designation applied to successfully or extensively as it might have been. The the daughter in youth, according to the custom of the causes to which this might be traced present a strong country. The education of Joan corresponded with and unfavourable contrast in the English character the scanty resources of her family and the unenlightto that of the German. This arises in a great mea- ened habits of the time. She was taught neither to sure from the horror evinced by the wealthier classes read nor to write. Sewing and knitting, the care of of mixing with the so-called "vulgar"-an evidence of cattle, and the labours of the field, formed the occureal vulgarity, which goes by the name of "exclusive-pations of her youth. She was trained up in virtuous ness." It is this unworthy selfishness which keeps principles, and showed a marked tendency to devotion out the English commonalty from many places to from her earliest years, shrinking from the sports of which they would otherwise be admitted. It is her equals in age, and preferring to spend her hours at the same time to be acknowledged, that when in solitary prayers and meditations. parks and suburban plots have been thrown open, they were made but little use of. We are all creatures of habit, and English artisans are especially so. It is not till they have become accustomed to a recreation that they will indulge in it; yet if opportunities were given more generally for healthful exercise, the custom would gradually increase. Again, a poor person, used all his life to the humblest scenes, often feels himself uncomfortable and out of place in an elegantly laid out park or an aristocratic promenade. So that the repellant principle which keeps the high from the low is not all on one side: it is in many cases mutual. The masses feel equally uncomfortable in the presence of the higher grades as the latter do in theirs, because neither have been accustomed to mix even in public. Hazlitt relates, in one of his essays, having overheard a London working-man say to his wife, as they were walking amidst a host of well-dressed passengers in Regent Street, "Oh, this place is too fine for me;

Such were the habits which nursed in the mind of Joan d'Arc the flame of religious enthusiasm ; and the miserable condition of her native country at the time of her rising into youthful womanhood, was sufficient to mingle with it the fire of patriotic zeal, in a mind so ardent and susceptible. The English held a great part of France, retaining the conquests of their recently deceased king, Henry V. Charles VII., commonly called the Dauphin, from being yet uncrowned, in vain strove against the English; he could scarcely maintain a footing anywhere with his party; and at length his main stronghold of Orleans was besieged, and hard pressed by the Earl of Salisbury. Joan d'Arc was at this period about eighteen years of age. For some time previously, she had been haunted by dreams and visions, which in that age it was not unnatural

*It may be necessary to observe, that the vorspan means addi tional horses attached to a carriage to draw it up steep hills.

by the narrative, and anxious to share, in his turn, in so delightful a diversion. An excuse was accordingly found to bring the laughter-moving apprentice once more to the palace; the pelisse, of which he had been the bearer, did not fit, and it was the will of its wearer that it should be reclaimed by the same individual by whom it had been delivered. The palace messenger once despatched, the sultan, concealed by the tapestry which veiled the entrance to an inner apartment, was enabled, on the arrival of the victim, to enjoy at his ease the right regal spectacle that he had been promised; and long did he stand behind the screen, admiring the dexterity of the tormentors, and making merry over the groans, and expostulations, and terror, of the tormented; until at length the intreaties of the poor youth once more changed, in his despair, as on the former occasion, into a threat of appeal to his imperial master. The words were no sooner uttered than the sultan emerged from his concealment, and presenting himself in all the awfulness of frowning majesty, declared his identity to the trembling tailor, affected extreme indignation at his temerity in threatening the officers of his household, and desired him to proffer his petition upon the spot, and without the delay of a moment. The panic-struck Armenian, to whom the Padishah had ever hitherto been a fearful idea rather than a palpable reality, instantly fell prostrate; and when his tormentors sought to raise him from the earth, it was discovered that he was senseless. Nothing flatters the great so much as an unequivocal demonstration of this description; and accordingly the terror of the tailor served him well in his emergency; every care was taken to restore him to animation, the sultan himself standing by, in order to mark his emotion on awakening from the faint.

beg your pardon, but I see a friend below," and I left him completely bothered. Forthwith a crowd of Americans fell upon the unhappy inquisitor.

"What's the gentleman's name?"pis ng beer "Who is he?"

"Where is he going?"

"He wears mustachios. Is he a colonel ?' &c. &c. The American, No. 1, recovering from the astonish ment occasioned by my escape, replied, "I know nothing about him, but I soon shall."

Act II-I am seated in the saloon of the cabin, read ing. My American friend, No. 1, descends, escorting a friend. They place themselves opposite me, and unrol on the table a map of Europe. Silence for a quarter of an hour, during which time they are apparently occupied in examining the map, but in reality looking at me. At length they took courage, and the American, No. 1, exclaimed, "Shocking state of things in Italy." The friend-“Yes, shocking indeed." They both stare at me. I read. They examine the map again. American, No. 1, breaks silence again-"Queer matters in Hanover." The friend-"Yes, very queer." Another scrutinising examination from two pair of eyes. I turn over a leaf. Five minutes elapse. The American, No. 1, again raises his voice. "Dreadful war in Poland." "Yes, dreadful indeed," replies his echo. Then, turning to me with dignity" Have you been in this war, sir ?" I raised my head from my book. Their eyes are fixed upon me with ludicrous anxiety. I cough. They exchange glances. I open my mouth. Their eyes gleam with pleasure. I answer slowly, in a deep base, "No-o!" I rise-I shut my book. They remained with their mouths half open, lost in amazement at the utter discomfiture of all their manoeuvres.

ance.

OVERLAND ROUTES TO INDIA.*

Only a few days elapsed, ere the fortunate Armenian found himself not merely the possessor of a spacious shop filled with merchandise, but also so thoroughly the fashion as to be overwhelmed with business, and placed in a position to secure great profit and honour, and to supply the exigencies of his parents and brethren. In another fortnight, he had laid in a handsome stock of pipes for the accommodation of his customers, and, through the energetic agency of his mother, provided himself with a wife, young, pretty, and obedient; who, with her two female slaves, composed his modest harem. In short, long before we left the city, the cidevant-butt of the imperial buffoons was a prosperous and busy merchant, to whom many a head was bent as he threaded his way, gravely and silently, as became the importance of his calling, through the thoroughfares of Stamboul.

AMERICAN CURIOSITY. [From M. Lowenstern's "Les Etats Unis et Le Havane."]

WHEN ascending the Delaware in a steam-boat, I had the honour to excite the attention of one of these inquisitive gentlemen. As soon as he had discovered that was a stranger, he began by standing in front of me, and examining me from head to foot. "A foreigner, no doubt," he began ; " but from what country?"

This was the grand question, but I left him to ponder on it. He continued his survey; I changed my place; he followed me; I looked hard at him to express my dissatisfaction at his staring. Far from understanding me, he avails himself of this to come up and address me. Putting on as agreeable an expression as his pinched-up features would allow, he abruptly began in a snuffling drawling tone"Sir!"-then, after a pause-"Where do you come

from?"

"Yes, sir, I am a merchant; but I was asking""Ah, you are a merchant; business pretty good in Connecticut, eh?"

"Pretty well, sir; but may I?".

"How many miles from here to Philadelphia ?" The American scratched his head vigorously with his right hand, raising the left side of his hat a little. "Twelve miles, sir. But, sir, you were forgetting. I asked you"

"I am delighted to have made your acquaintance,

sir." Then politely turning from him, I exclaimed, "I

world.

Putting the old sea voyage out of the question, there are several other routes by which British India may be reached. Of these we purpose, with the help of the works now before us, giving some account. The first route takes the traveller through the heart of France, for he enters that country at Calais or Boulogne, on the shores of the British channel, and leaves it at Marseilles on the Mediterranean. He is thus afforded an opportunity of visiting Paris, which, if he have started from England in good time, he may allow himself leisure to explore. He can then travel direct thence to Marseilles, but as that is by far the most fatiguing and least interesting plan, shorter stages are generally preferred; and it is better to proceed to Chalons, where he can catch a glimpse of the Alps, although they are one hundred miles distant. He is now on the banks of an important French river, the Soane, and embarks on board a small steam-boat for Lyons, at which place the Soane flows into the Rhone. The short rest allowed here (from two in the afternoon till five in the morning) may be usefully employed in seeing as much of this great manufacturing town as possible. He will be struck with the ancient and gloomy look of the houses, which are in many streets six and seven storeys high; but the quays enclosing the town (for they face both rivers) will be seen to present a fine appearance. Though the cathedral is well worth a visit, the town-hall is considered the finest building in the place. It is in Lyons that nearly all the silk produced in France is woven. He next embarks on the Rhone, whose rapid current takes the steamer to Avignon, a distance of 150 miles, in eleven hours. This is one of the most ancient and picturesque towns in France, and if the traveller be of a poetical temperament, he may visit the tomb of Laura de Sade, the lady to whom Petrarch addressed his celebrated sonnets; which will be found in the church of the Cordeliers. Instead of proceeding down the Rhone to its mouth in the Gulf of Lyons, and so round to Marseilles, the journey is continued to that place from Avignon by coach. It is necessary to be here on the first, eleventh, or twenty-first of the month; for on those days the French steamers take their departure for Alexandria.

Should the voyager have time to deviate from his direct route, he should here make arrangements for one of the finest tours in the world. These steamers call in their way at Leghorn and Civita Vecchia, in Italy, and by landing at the latter place, the traveller will be within forty-five miles of Rome. Having received from this visit the greatest gratification it is possible for the lover of antiquity and history to enjoy, he can return to the coast at Naples, taking in his way Mount Vesuvius, Stromboli, with the half-excavated ruins of Pompeii and Herculaneum. It will be

* I. Hand-Book for India and Egypt, &c. By George Parbury, Esq., M. R. A. S. Second Edition. London: W. H. Allen and Co., 7, Leadenhall Street.

II. Messrs Waghorn and Co.'s Overland Guide to India, by

Street.
Four Routes to Egypt. London: J. Madden and Co., Leadenhall

necessary to be in Naples by the fifth, fifteenth, or twenty-fifth of the month, as the steamers continue their voyage thence on those days. Nor do the charms of the voyage end here. After passing through the Strait of Messina, a panoramic view is obtained of the eastern coast of Sicily, including Mount Etna. The next place of rest is Malta, where the packets remain twenty-four hours. This island, though rendered historically celebrated by the frequency with which it has changed hands, contains little to interest the stranger, except what he will see passing before him in the streets. Situated in the centre of the Mediterranean, Malta has either permanent inhabitants, or occasional visitors from almost every nation of the eastern hemisphere, and a motley assemblage of costumes is to be seen in its public places, unequalled for variety in any other part of the globe. From Malta, the traveller is conveyed direct to Alexandria. Should, however, time press, it is possible to go direct from Marseilles to Alexandria by a British steamer, which leaves the former port on the fourth of every month. A new line of French packets is also established, to perform the same voyage three times during every month.

The traveller is now in one of the ancient capitals of the "Land of Egypt," and though he have but little time to inspect its curiosities, yet some of them will force themselves upon his notice in his passage from the harbour, where he lands, to the great square. Here "he will have ample opportunity," says Mr Parbury, "to admire its spacious area, the beauty and great size of the buildings in it, and the pictu resqueness of the inhabitants and their costume. It is the situation, also, of the residences of the various consuls, many of which have elegant spiral staircases rising far above the roofs, whence fine views of the surrounding country can be obtained, and vessels be descried very far off at sea. By proceeding, also, but a very short distance from the square, he will find himself amidst the hillocks and ruins of Old Alexandria, where excavations are constantly going on, and fresh discoveries of interesting objects of antiquity as frequently being made. A few steps farther onward, and he is at the foot of Cleopatra's needle (two granite obelisks, the one standing, the other prostrate), after inspecting which, he may return to his hotel with the consciousness that he has seen almost

everything of interest that Alexandria can furnish." Pompey's pillar-the pedestal and shaft of which are composed of single masses of granite to the height of 117 feet may also be viewed, for it is in the outskirts of the old town, through which it is necessary to pass to get to the canal station, whence the journey is to be resumed. Being only three miles from Alexandria, this forms a most interesting walk, though, if preferred, carriages are provided. The baggage is conveyed on the backs of camels. The Alexandria canal affords communication between that city and the Canoptic, or western branch of the Nile. It was originally dug under Alexander the Great, but was subsequently closed up. Mehemet Ali, the present ruler of Egypt, determined to re-open it; and, with a despotism peculiar to him in carrying on public works, ordered 20,000 men, from all parts of the country, to meet at Atfé on the Nile by a particular day. Not daring to disobey, the multitude assembled, were set to work, and in six weeks this canal, though 48 miles long, was completed. All then returned to their homes. The passenger to India derives great benefit from this act of tyranny; for he is towed, or tracked by horses in an iron boat, down to the Nile in eight or ten hours. Here a steamer is boarded, which completes the distance (164 miles) to Boulac, the port of Cairo, in about twenty hours. It is, during this voyage, that the active observer may obtain, by a careful scrutiny of the canal and river banks, a notion of the condition of the Fellah or Egyptian peasant mode of existence. Miserable huts, and agricultural operations of a most contracted and primitive nature, may be continually observed. He will also perceive at Babnel-Bakarah the fork or point where the Nile diverges into two great arms by which it is emptied into the sea, having flowed from Ilak in Nubia, a distance of 1350 miles, in solitary grandeur, unaided by a single tributary stream during its course- an unexampled instance," exclaims de Humboldt, "in the hydrographic history of the globe." He will also have caught a first glimpse of the mighty pyramids, which, although at a great distance, will, from the extreme clearness of the air in these latitudes, appear to be within a mile or two of him.

Landed at Boulac, and having threaded its busy wharfs and narrow streets, the stranger proceeds through Fostat, or Old Cairo, to New Cairo, the modern capital of Egypt, which, by the aid of one of the extraordinarily swift donkeys that this country is famed for, may be explored in a short period. The great pyramids of Gizeh are only ten miles southwest of Cairo, and may also, under ordinary circumstances, be easily visited.

The passenger will next have to prepare for his journey-across the eastern desert of Egypt-to Suez, situated at the northern extremity of the Red Sea. This, though a tedious and monotonous journey in itself, is, from the associations connected with it, one of absorbing interest. The road lies, for a considerable distance, upon the track taken by the Israelites in their flight from Egypt. Birket-el-Hadj (Pilgrim's Pool), which is passed about twelve miles from Cairo, is conjectured to be the Succoth of Scripture, where

the Jews first encamped (Exodus, chap. xiii. v. 37). It is still a place of rendezvous for the pilgrim caravans from Cairo to Mecca. These caravans, or assemblies of travellers upon camels and dromedaries, have always travelled exactly in the same manner as when the company of merchants" rescued Joseph from the pit into which his brothers had thrown him, and there was no other mode of travelling till the adoption of the present method. The desert between Cairo and Suez is eighty-four miles across, and is traversed in seven stages, where stables and resting-rooms have been built. Double that number have, however, lately been provided by means of a tent pitched between each of the station-houses. These tents add a singular feature to the scene, being no other than those used at the Eglintoun tournament. Thus a relic of a late masquerade in Scotland is presented in juxtaposition with the monumental remains of the Pharaohs and Ptolemies! The sort of vehicles provided for the modern traveller are thus enumerated in Waghorn and Company's pamphlet:-"For this part of the journey there are coaches drawn by four horses, each capable of taking eight passengers; ditto, carrying six passengers each; two-wheeled vans, with a sort of tilt cover, carrying four persons each, and drawn by two horses; also donkey-chairs, a kind of light sedan, slung upon poles, and carried by two donkeys to each, one before and the other behind. These are by far the easiest conveyances, and well-suited for ladies, children, and invalids. Those who prefer riding, may be accommodated with either saddle-horses or donkeys, the latter most to be depended on, being of a much superior description to those of Europe, very easy in their paces, and capable of great fatigue, as one, if a good one, will perform the whole journey from Cairo to Suez with but little nourishment. For carrying the luggage, dromedaries are employed."

the narrow strait of Babelmandeb. But before exit is here made from the Red into the Arabian Sea, a good view of Mocha will have been obtained. This place, the name of which is so often taken in vain by dealers in coffee, is rendered conspicuous from "a tall minaret towering amidst the white houses of the town; date trees flourish to the southward; a white tomb and fort are in view to the northward; while in the rear of all, are ranges of hills of different elevations." A half-way station is established at Aden, twelve hours' run eastward of Babelmandeb, on the Arabian Sea. Here the vessel puts in and receives a supply of coals. From this place its onward course is but seldom enlivened by the sight of land, and the voyager at last arrives at Bombay, having seen some of the most remarkable places and antiquities in Europe, Africa, and Asia.

The second route finds, perhaps, more favour from lovers of the picturesque. It commences by a voyage to Ostend, in Belgium, and an embarkation on the Rhine to Basle. The south-western corner of Germany is then crossed, and Switzerland is entered. Having passed over the Alps, the traveller gains the shores of the celebrated Lake Como, and arrives at Venice. Here he will find steamers to Trieste, in Austria, whence, on the 1st and 16th of every month, there are vessels to Syra, which effect a junction at that place with the French steamers to Alexandria. The journey from Egypt to India is then completed as above. Several other roads may be taken across the continent to Trieste.

A third route takes the traveller to Constantinople; a fourth through Greece; in short, a person bound for India, and not pressed for time, has only to consult his tastes, and he may have them gratified by visits to any of the interesting places on the continent of Europe. But in nearly all Supposing the traveller to have entered the desert, cases, the grand gathering place is Alexandria. the subjoined passages from Mr Parbury's pen will Beyrout is sometimes preferred, but in that case a show him what kind of journey he may anticipate :- tedious journey across Syria into the Persian Gulf "The route is almost level throughout, and two of must be encountered. By far the best, and therefore the station-houses can at times be seen at the same most frequented route, is that we have described at moment. It is perfectly adapted for wheeled car-length. The most direct course is, however, to emriages, and nine-tenths of the distance may be termed a bark at Southampton by one of the Peninsular and capital gravelled road, the remainder being occasionally Oriental Company's packets, which leaves that place sandy, and at parts rocky; a very trifling outlay might on the 1st of every month for Alexandria direct. make the whole line available for a rapid coach transit, and, with relays of horses, the mails might be transported across in ten hours with the greatest ease, instead of occupying nearly forty-eight, as they did on this occasion. But very few hills, either to the right or left of the course, diversify the sameness of the journey. There is only one large tree, situated about two miles from the centre station; but small bushes are more frequent; and there is a moderatesized specimen of the babul, or acacia, two miles from the fifth station on the Cairo side.

'

The disagreeable romance of a robbery has often been added to the traveller's other annoyances. But latterly, the Bedouin Arabs have been kept in too effectual dread of the awful pasha to venture on any such molestation, and the road is now deemed as free from brigands as that between London and Richmond. Suez need not be dwelt upon much, nor abided in one hour longer than necessary. "Its wretchedness has often been described," remarks Mr Parbury, "but never in terms too severe." Not far from this once flourishing, but now utterly decayed seaport, is the village of Aljeroud, represented in the Bible by Etham, on the edge of the wilderness" (Exodus, xiii. v. 20). At Suez, the voyager bids adieu to landtravelling till arriving at his Indian destination, and boards one of the government steamers which is to convey him the entire length of the Red Sea through the Arabian ocean to Bombay. The first thing by which his attention will most likely be attracted, will be the extreme clearness of the waters upon which he is now embarked. On looking over the sides of the vessel, he will perceive, at a great depth, the bed of the sea, consisting almost entirely of immense reefs of red coral, from which its name is derived. Once in motion, new scenes of interest present themselves in quick succession. The Egyptian mountains, skirting the whole of the western shores of his track, present a panorama of bold alpine scenery scarcely equalled elsewhere. But it is the eastern side which, during the early part of the voyage, will occupy him more fully. Mount Sinai, towering above the lesser Horeb, rises upon the promontory formed by the division of the sea into the gulf of Suez and that of Akaba.

The steam-boat generally calls at the ancient port of Kosseir in Egypt, to take up those passengers who have, instead of leaving Cairo by the route here described, preferred continuing up the Nile to Thebes, to view its stupendous remains of antiquity. Those travellers cross the desert between Thebes and Kosseir in the ancient mode, upon camels' backs. Continuing from the latter port, the mountains on each side recede from the coast, and neither the Arabian nor Nubian scenery is so striking as that already passed. At length the Abyssinian shores are gained, and they, pressing closely upon those of Arabia, form

In reference to the books to which we are indebted for some of the information here presented, we should say that both are almost necessary to those who contemplate taking the overland journey. Some suspicion may attach to the impartiality of the Messrs Waghorn's pamphlet, as being avowedly issued by transit agents, who, of course, recommend their own modes of conveyance; but this, if any exists in the reader's mind, may be set at rest by the clear and evidently unprejudiced statements of Mr Parbury. It is, however, fair to state, that to Mr Waghorn the public is mainly indebted for the opening up of this new road to India, and we cheerfully reprint Mr Parbury's testimony on that point :

"The incidental introduction of Mr Waghorn's name cannot fail to remind the reader how much he is indebted for the present successful prosecution of steam navigation to India to that individual. The obstacles and difficulties which for a long series of years were thrown in his way, while so ardently and energetically carrying out his favourite project, are too well-known to need remark; and it is satisfactory to notice, that the present government have, to a certain extent, testified their appreciation of his services by giving him his commission as lieutenant in her majesty's navy."

The expense of the most direct of these journeys falls very little short of L.100 each person, for the mere transit of himself and a certain allowance of baggage.

WORKING OF THE POOR LAW IN
IRELAND.

WE are happy to observe from a late number of Mr and Mrs Hall's work on Ireland, that these intelligent writers, after a careful and practical examination in various parts of the country, give their cordial approval of the Irish Poor Law, whether as regards its influence on the parties who receive relief, or its actual bearing upon the character and condition of the country. A few passages, condensed from the valuable testimony which they offer on this important measure, including one or two of those agreeable anecdotes with which they illustrate the subject, may not be unacceptable to the friends of social improvement.

The principle of the Irish Poor Law, it will be recollected, is to give relief only in workhouses; a workhouse being established in the centre of a union of town-lands. The number of houses declared fit for occupation is 100, out of 130, the total number in Ireland; and these are variously capable of accommodating from 200 to 2000 inmates. Eighty-four houses are already occupied, and the remaining sixteen are receiving their stores. The number of individuals, old and young, in the eighty-four houses, is 27,537. The total amount of accommodation which the 130 houses, when finished, will be capable of affording, is for 92,860 persons; and, in case of pressure, the capability of the houses may be considered to be from ten to twenty per cent. beyond this number: included among these there is accommodation for upwards of 2000 idiots, or harmless lunatics-the buildings being provided with wards for persons of this class. All

the buildings are large, substantial, well-ventilated, and furnished with airy court-yards.

The clothing of the adult male inmates consists of a coat and trousers of barragon, cap, shirt, shoes, and stockings. The female adults are supplied with a striped jerkin, a petticoat of linsey-woolsey, and another of stout cotton, a cap, shift, shoes, and stockings. The male children have each a jacket and trousers of fustian, a shirt, and woollen cap. The female children have each a cotton frock and petticoat, a cap, and linsey-woolsey petticoat. Each bed is supplied with a straw mattress, with blankets, bolsters, &c. The able-bodied women and children sleep in double beds the sick, the infirm, and the male persons, sleep in single beds. It is an established rule (except in special cases), not to admit children without their parents, if dependent on them; nor a man without his wife, nor a wife without her husband. The sexes are completely separated.

;

The diet varies in particular unions, chiefly depending on the condition of the poor in the neighbourhood, the object being to give such diet to the inmates of the workhouse as shall not be superior to that obtained by the independent labourer. A common dietary for adults is for breakfast, 7 ounces of meal made into porridge, 1 pint of butter-milk, or half a pint of new milk; for dinner, 3 lbs. of potatoes, and 1 quart of butter-milk. Children five to fourteen-3 ounces of oatmeal for breakfast; dinner, 2 lbs. of potatoes; supper, 6 ounces of bread, and 1 pint of new milk, daily. Animal food, not being part of the regular diet of the independent peasantry in Ireland, is not given in the workhouses, and the want is not complained of. The dietary has hitherto been found to give general satisfaction.

The expense of maintenance is levied by rates on the country at large; and now, for the first time, all will be taxed alike. Formerly, the burden of supporting the poor, as is the case, in a great measure, till this day in Scotland, fell upon the generous, and relieved the mercenary. "All who know Ireland, know that there was no district in which there did not exist two distinct classes-those who gave much to the poor, and those who never gave anything. In fact, the gate or house of 'the hard man to the poor' was familiar to all the wandering train,' and as much so to the respectable and generous collector of charitable gifts-it was avoided by both. We could easily name individuals, of large properties, who did not bestow a shilling in the year, either by giving food or moneyindividuals who are now forced to pay, in many instances, one or two hundred pounds per annum. It follows, as a matter of course, that the really charitable have experienced a corresponding relief; and it can scarcely be doubted, that, although the necessity for occasional collections has by no means ceased, this class, the really charitable, are now taxed less heavily than they were before the introduction of the Poor Law into Ireland. It should also be borne in mind, that, by this tax, the absentee is effectually reached. We do not mean to say that the Poor Law has removed, or that it ever will remove, entirely, the necessity for private and voluntary charity; or that it has cleared, or ever will clear, the streets and roads of beggars; but most certainly it has already greatly lessened the former, and diminished the latter, evil.

It has induced the charitable to institute more minute inquiries before giving relief; it has justified greater care in the distribution of charity; and it has removed out of sight the disgusting objects, the idiotic, the diseased, and the maimed, who have been in a manner forced into the shelter of the workhouse. To those who now visit Ireland for the first time, the amount of misery will appear frightfully large; but a vast diminution of it will be perceptible-on the highways, that is to say to those who were familiar with the country ten or twenty years ago. Why do you not go to the workhouse?' is now a common query to every beggar. Until very lately, the question could not be asked.

Not the least of the improvements which the law will induce, is the certainty that, when public sympathy is withdrawn from the profession of begging, and the beggar finds that there are no wages' to be obtained by pursuing an unprofitable trade, those who can work will work. There is no locality in Ireland that could not furnish scores of strong and able hands unused to labour, only because labour has been less agreeable than wandering from place to place subsisting by charity.

A striking illustration of this fact was related to us by a friend at Lurgan. A strong able-bodied woman, who was both the amusement and terror of the gentry, from her ready wit and bitter tongue, and who levied contributions something after the manner of black mail, after abusing the new gaol,' as she termed the workhouse, from the laying of the first stone to its completion, when it came to be occupied, presented her bronzed face, as usual, at every house, as if no asylum had been provided for the poor. The gentry, however, had come to a resolution not to give her anything whatever, but to afford her the means of employment, if she desired it. Accordingly, Kitty was told, that in future she must either work, or go into the poorhouse. In return for this information, Kitty stormed at and rated, first one, and then another, of all her former friends, who stood out firmly; for Kitty was the very queen of the beggars and if they yielded to her, they must yield to all; whereas, if Kitty was withstood, the others would know they

could have no chance whatever. Nothing could exceed the virago's indignation at being, as she termed it, 'cast off' by the quality, after spending her time up and down with them for a matter of thirty years, and never bringing shame to their door, but being as honest as Saint Bridget, or any other holy saint; and this was her return; she didn't know how they could look her in the face after it! Kitty fared badly; she knew the dinner-hour of every family in the county; but instead of the well-piled plate of pork and cabbage,' the double handful of meal, and dish of potatoes, Kitty found the back doors locked, and the families remaining quite inattentive to her eloquence, which certainly was more powerful than elegant. After, according to her own account, 'going through' as much trouble as would break a heart of stone, she suddenly made her appearance before one of the poorlaw guardians, whom she had repeatedly offended, but whom she still considered her friend. There she stood, her empty wallet slinging by her side, her battered straw hat flapping over her face, and her brawny arms folded one within the other. Here I am, noble colonel!' she exclaimed; the supplies are stopped, my lord, and poor Kitty must yield to the articles of war!' 'I thought,' he replied, I should have been obliged to commit you as a 'Don't spake the word, yer honour; there's no use in insulting a dead soldier; it's only mee shadow that's in it. I'm pickt to an atomy; the crows don't think me worth flying away from, and the dogs that I've known the last ten years, bark at me. I never quartered meeself on a cabin-keeper yet; I'd scorn it! I'd not take from worse than meeself; and now you see I'm driven hard; yet bad as they've used me, my heart's with the gentry of the county Armagh still. We can't forget the friends of our youth, noble colonel; and it's sorry I'd be to turn mee back on my ould friends; and it's lonesome the roads will be without me, and they used to me so long; but, still, needs must when the devil (saving your presence) drives. And so, if yer honour will just answer a few questions, which I'll put ye, to my satisfaction, why, I'll be thinking about renouncing the pomps and vanities-taking the veil, my dear! What else can I call it? Devoting meeself for the ase and pace of the counthry, inside them four heart-breaking thick walls-putting the prime of mee valuable life into a stone jug.' 'I suppose,' said the colonel, 'you are going into "the house" at last. That's what I'm thinking of,' she replied; ' only my feelings war too tender to say it.' Well, he answered, laughing, 'you know, Kitty, we have all come to a determination that you must all either go into "the house" or work-one or the other. We offer you work and good wages, Kitty, or "the house."" "May the devil!' shouted Kitty, but, recollecting herself, she paused, and dropping her voice to a whine, she continued: Noble colonel, the little kwestions I was going to ask you, my dear gentleman, that's all, before I'll devote myself-just-is it quite an unpossibility to get the drop of whisky in it?' 'Quite.' 'Glory be to God! well, I've had a thrial at the could water, to oblege Father Mathew, so I know that it is possible to do without whisky, so I'll drop it; but the grain of tay, colonel-sure you'd manage to let me have that on the sly, and me so ould, and broken down? No, Kitty, no!' said the inexorable son of Mars. No, no, Kitty; no favour to one more than to another; that would be unjust. Sure, it's the strength of justice to favour friends.' 'Not in my opinion; have you any other question to ask? Bedad I have, though your answers ain't no ways plasing to me. Sure, yer honour wouldn't deprive me of a shock, or maybe a draw, of the pipe, a few times in the day? Not a single leaf of tobacco must enter the gates.' But they are light enough to fly over the walls,' persisted Kitty. No, not a drop of whisky, nor a grain of tea, nor a leaf of tobacco. And it's cruel enough to be in airnest you are, is it?' Quite; will you go in ?' The gentleman and the woman looked at each other fixedly for a moment; Kitty untied her empty wallet, grasped it in her hand, and then, as she flung it from her, exclaimed, "Tatteration to me, colonel dear, but I'll work first! and for every sixpence any woman in the place airns, I'll airn two.' And so she does, and will continue to do-never idle; and not having time to be abusive, she is far more popular than she had ever been before. We saw her, ourselves, as busy as a bee.

morrow.

During our two latest tours in Ireland-the one in 1841, the other in 1842-we had many opportunities of inspecting the workhouses in the northern, western, and, partially, the eastern, districts of the island. We entered the greater number of them suddenly and unaccompanied, and not upon 'show-days,' when preparations might have been made, so that disagreeable features were concealed, or rendered less than usually repulsivo. We found them invariably clean, wellordered, and with evidence of good and steady discipline; the masters and matrons, as far as we could judge, intelligent, kindly, and considerate. The various regulations appeared to have been framed with judgment and a due regard to the comforts of the inmates; and the poor people domiciled therein, seemed, for the most part, not only satisfied and contented, but grateful, and sensible that they had been in reality 'relieved.' Of able-bodied paupers, such as we see far too often in the workhouses of England, we saw few or noneliterally none of the male sex; and where we noticed women capable of labour, we found that their children were generally inmates of another ward. Cleanliness we saw not only inculcated as a duty, but rendered imperativo; and out of this must arise immense benefit, if not to the present, certainly to the after generation. Ventilation is made to contribute to health, and to give the valuable influence of example. Decent beds, in place of miserable heaps of wet and filthy straw, not only contribute to existing comforts, but they become necessaries-necessaries that will be procured hereafter by those who have had experience of their advantages. Wholesome food, poor as it would be considered by the English pauper, and in sufficient quantities, instead of food insufficient in amount, and of bad quality; shelter from the weather; warm and comfortable apartments, both by day and night; good and ample clothing; habits of cleanliness, decency, and order; such are, in brief, the advantages which the workhouse presents; if they are advantages to be described and treated as the rights of the English poor, they are, in truth, 'novelties' with which the Irish poor have been ever utterly unacquainted. In Ireland, therefore, we consider these public establishments not only as pregnant with immediate good to the suffering, but as rich in promise of future improvement to the whole population of the country; not only as taking away a national reproach-as providing an asylum for the destitute, as removing wretchedness from the highways and byeways-but as laying the foundation of a sound and wholesome state of society, in lieu of one that has been for centuries an anomaly in civilisation."

AMPUTATION IN THE MESMERIC SLEEP. THE following account of a case of successful amputation of the thigh, during the mesmeric sleep, without the knowledge of the patient, was read to the Royal Medical and Chirurgical Society of London, on Tuesday the 22d of November, 1842, by W. Topham, Esq., the gentleman who induced the mesmeric state in the patient :

"James Wombell, aged forty-two, a labouring man, of a calm and quiet temperament, had suffered for a period of about five years, from a painful affection of the left knee. On the 21st day of June last, he was admitted into the District Hospital at Wellow, near Ollerton, Notts; no longer able to work, and suffering much pain. It was soon found that amputation of the leg, above the knee-joint, was inevitable; and it was eventually proposed that it should be performed, if possible, during mesmeric sleep.

tember. He was sitting upright upon a bed in the hosI saw Wombell, for the first time, on the 9th of Seppital; the only position which he could bear. He complained of great pain from his knee, and of much excitability and loss of strength from his constant restlessness and deprivation of sleep; for he had not, during the three previous weeks, slept more than two hours in seventy.

In the first attempt to mesmerise him, which occupied me thirty-five minutes, the only effect produced was a closing of the eyelids, with that quivering appearance peculiar to mesmeric sleep; and, though awake and speaking, he could not raise them, until after the lapse of a minute and a half.

The third time I saw him, he was suffering great agony, and distressed even to tears. I commenced by making passes, longitudinally, over the diseased knee: in five minutes he felt comparatively easy, and on proceeding further to mesmerise him, he was sleeping like an infant. Not only his arms were then violently pinched, but also the diseased leg itself, without his exhibiting any sensation; yet this limb was so sensitive to pain, in his natural state, that he could not bear even the lightest covering to

he became cheer

On the 22d of September, he was apprised of the seemed almost unexpected, and affected him considernecessity of an early amputation. The communication ably. I this day tried the experiment of mesmerising him against his will; proceeding by contact with the hands, charging him, particularly, to exert his mind to prevent my affecting him. During the process, he occasionally glanced at those near him, moving his eyes as he felt inclined, and in twelve minutes and a half passed into mesmeric sleep. The two or three previous days, it had been effected in six minutes. He informed me, subsequently, he had repeatedly called to mind the intelligence just received, and the torture which he must endure; but he soon found the influence irresistible, and his limb, however, that night destroyed his natural sleep. presently lost all consciousness. The anticipated loss of Next day, though found still fretting, restless, and in consequent pain, he was yet, by my touch, asleep in four minutes and a half.

[Mr Topham proceeds to say, that he mesmerised the patient several times by way of trial, and was now convinced that the operation might be safely performed while he was in the mesmeric sleep. When the day appointed for the operation arrived], we proceeded to Wombell's room to make the necessary arrangements. From the suffering inflicted by the slightest movement, it was found impossible, without needless torture, to place him upon fore lifted upon a temporary platform. Ten minutes a table. The low bed, on which he then lay, was therebed-clothes beneath him, towards the end of the bed. after being mesmerised, he was drawn, by means of the The movement, however, excited that pain which had so often aroused him before; and now it did so again. There was something quite excruciating in the suffering which the state of the knee produced; for I had seen him, whilst in mesmeric sleep, pricked to some little depth, in other parts of the diseased limb, without being disturbed or conscious of it. To preclude the necessity of any further movement, his leg was now placed in the afterwards, he declared that the pain had ceased; and I most convenient position which he could bear. Shortly again mesmerised him in four minutes. In a quarter of the operation. I then brought two fingers of each hand an hour I informed Mr Ward that he might commence gently in contact with Wombell's closed eyelids; and there kept them, still further to deepen the sleep. Mr Ward, after one earnest look at the man, slowly plunged his knife into the centre of the outer side of the thigh, directly to the bone; and then made a clear incision, round the bone, to the opposite point, on the inside of the thigh. The stillness at this moment was something awful; the calm respiration of the sleeping man alone was heard, for all other seemed suspended. In making the second incision, the position of the leg was found operator could not proceed with his former facility. Soon more inconvenient than it had appeared to be; and the after the second incision, a moaning was heard from the patient, which continued, at intervals, until the conclusion. It gave me the idea of a troubled dream; for his sleep continued as profound as ever. The placid look of his countenance never changed for an instant; his whole frame rested, uncontrolled, in perfect stillness and repose; not a muscle or nerve was seen to twitch. To the end of the operation, including the sawing of the bone, securing the arteries, and applying the bandages-occupying a period of upwards of twenty minutes-he lay like a becoming low from the loss of blood, some brandy and statue. Soon after the limb was removed, his pulse unconsciously. water was poured into his throat, which he swallowed pointed out to one of the surgeons, and another gentleAs the last bandage was applied, I lids already alluded to. Finally, when all was completed, man present, that peculiar quivering of the closed eyeand Wombell was about to be removed, his pulse being still found very low, some sal volatile and water was administered to him; it proved too strong and pungent, and he gradually and calmly awoke.

At first he uttered no exclamation, and for some moments seemed lost and bewildered; but after looking around, he exclaimed, I bless the Lord to find it's all following immediately, I asked him, in the presence of over!' He was then removed to another room; and, those assembled, to describe all he felt or knew after he was mesmerised. His reply was, I never knew anything more, and never felt any pain at all; I once felt as if I heard a kind of crunching. I asked him if this were painful. He replied, No pain at all! I never had any; and knew nothing till I was awakened by that strong stuff' (the sal volatile). The crunching,' no doubt, was the sawing his own thigh bone. He was left easy and comfortable, and still found so at nine o'clock that night, about which hour I again mesmerised him (in a minute may further add, that, on the Monday following, the first and three quarters), and he slept an hour and a half. I dressing of his wound was in mesmeric sleep. Of this dressing, usually accompanied by much soreness and smarting, he felt nothing; slept long after it was completed; was ignorant of Mr Ward's intention; and, after awakening, remained unconscious of its having been done. Mr W. S. Ward's own statement, in accordsubsequent to the operation, he has kindly permitted to ance with his personal observation and care, prior and be appended to my own; and thus to render complete lable of comment." the narrative of this case, which I leave without a syl

The statement of Mr W. S. Ward, the operator above alluded to, was next read; and besides corroborating, in every particular, the account of Mr Topham, some other circumstances were added, bearing on the surgical part of the case. Mr Ward concludes in the following words :

"I need only add, that the extreme quivering, or rapid