at Kutayah, in May, 1833, by which all former offences were forgiven, and Mehemet Ali was, as a temporary arrangement, confirmed in the possession of both Syria and Egypt.

The pacha then endeavoured to introduce in his new province the same modes of administration as he had done in Egypt and Candia, but so contrary to the feelings of the Syrians did they prove, that in 1834 a formidable rebellion broke out, vast numbers of the invaders perished, and Ibrahim was long shut up in Jerusalem. His father, however, came to his assistance, and suppressed the movement in a summary manner. Hitherto the conscription had not been extended to Syria, but in 1836 it was determined to do so. As the measure, it was foreseen, would be most unpopular, and former events had shown how formidable they were capable of being, the whole of the mountaineers were disarmed, and, according to Colonel Campbell, consul-general in Egypt, 80,000 muskets, besides pistols and daggers, which had been seized, were forged into horse-shoes in the arsenal at Acre.

In the mean while, the Sultan bore very uneasily the loss of so valuable a province as Syria, and accordingly, European diplomacy was unceasingly employed to adjust the points of dispute, but in vain. A large Turkish army, partly armed and drilled in the European mode, was collected on the border of Taurus under Hafiz Pacha, but it was totally overthrown by Ibrahim, in June, 1839. This gave rise to further difficulties, which have not been obviated by all the efforts of the divan of ambassadors at Constantinople. On the other hand, differences of opinion as to the ultimate measures to be pursued, have arisen among the Allies themselves, which have at length occasioned the signature by Austria, Great Britain, Prussia, and Russia, of a treaty authorizing extreme measures, in which France refuses to concur, and which is at this moment being carried into effect.

Dr. Bowring, who has recently visited Syria for the purpose of collecting information for Her Majesty's Government, bears testimony to the fact that the Egyptian Government is exceedingly unpopular in Syria, but he adduces numerous facts to prove, that, though susceptible of great amelioration, it is a decided improvement upon the ancient order of things. The military force is stated by the Government at 60,000 men, consisting of fourteen regiments of infantry, ten of cavalry, and four of artillery, and 7500 irregulars; but as the regiments are never complete, the whole number is supposed not to amount to more than 45,000 men, comparatively few of whom are natives of the country, as the Egyptian and Syrian conscripts are exchanged, though the most frightful losses occur among both from nostalgia, or homesickness. The possession of Syria is costly to the Pacha, as the revenue amounts only to about 800,0007. per annum, while the expenses are 1,200,000l., beside the annual tribute to the Porte, 175,000l. more.

A few succeeding papers of this series will offer a general sketch of the whole line of coast, from El Arish to Scanderoun.

A BEE-HUNT IN THE FAR WEST.

THE beautiful forest in which we were encamped abounded in bee-trees; that is to say, trees in the decayed trunks of which wild bees had established their hives. It is surprising in what countless swarms the bees have overspread the far West within but a moderate number of years. The Indians consider them the harbinger of the white man, as the buffalo is of the red man; and say that, in proportion as the bee advances the Indian and the buffalo retire. We are always accustomed to associate the hum of the bee-hive with the farm-house and the flower-garden, and to consider those industrious little animals as connected with the busy haunts of men; and I am told that the wild bee is seldom to be met with at any great distance from the frontier. They have been the heralds of civilisation, steadfastly preceding it as it advanced from the Atlantic borders; and some of the ancient settlers of the West pretend to give the very year when the honey-bee first crossed the Mississippi. The Indians with surprise found the mouldering trees of their forest suddenly teeming with ambrosial sweets; and nothing, I am told, can exceed the greedy relish with which they banquet for the first time upon this luxury of the wilderness.

At present, the honey-bee swarms in myriads in the noble groves and forests that skirt and intersect the prairies, and extend along the alluvial bottoms of the rivers. It seems to me as if these beautiful regions answer literally to the description of the land of promise, "a land flowing with milk and honey;" for the rich pasturage of the prairies is calculated to sustain herds of cattle as countless as the sands upon the sea-shore, while the flowers with which they are enamelled render them a very paradise for the nectarseeking bee. •

We had not been long in the camp when a party set out in quest of a bee-tree; and, being curious to witness the sport, I gladly accepted an invitation to accompany them. The party was headed by a veteran bee-hunter, a tall lank fellow, in homespun garb, that hung loosely about his limbs, and a straw hat shaped not unlike a bee-hive; a comrade, equally uncouth in garb, and without a hat, straddled along at his heels, with a long rifle on his shoulder. To these succeeded others, some with axes, and some with rifles; for no one stirs far from the camp without fire-arms, so as to be ready either for wild deer or wild Indian.

After proceeding some distance we came to an open glade on the skirts of the forest. Here our leader halted, and then advanced quietly to a low bush, on the top of which I perceived a piece of honey-comb. This I found was the bait or lure for the wild bees. Several were humming about it, and diving into its cells. When they had laden themselves with honey they would rise up in the air, and dart off in one straight line, almost with the velocity of a bullet. The hunters watched attentively the course they took, and then set off in the same direction, stumbling along over twisted roots and fallen trees, with their eyes turned up to the sky. In this way they traced the honey-laden bees to their hive, in the hollow trunk of a blasted oak, where, after a little buzzing about,

NOTHING is so kind and so inviting as true and unsophisticated religion. Instead of imposing unnecessary burdens upon our nature, it easeth it of the greater weight of our passions or mistakes; instead of subduing us with rigour, it redeemeth us from the slavery we are in to ourselves, who are the most severe masters, whilst we are under the usurpation of our appetites, let loose and not restrained.--The Lady's New Year's Gift.

Two of the bee-hunters now plied their axes vigorously at the foot of the tree, to level it with the ground. The mere spectators and amateurs, in the mean time, drew off to a cautious distance to be out of the way of the falling of the tree, and the vengeance of its inmates. The jarring blows of the axe seemed to have no effect in alarming or agitating this most industrious community. They continued to ply at

their usual occupations, some arriving full freighted into port, others sallying forth on new expeditions, like so many merchantmen in a money-making metropolis, little suspicious of impending bankruptcy and downfall. Even a loud crack, which announced the disrupture of the trunk, failed to divert their attention from the intense pursuit of gain: at length down came the tree with a tremendous crash, bursting open from end to end, and displaying all the hoarded treasures of the commonwealth.

One of the hunters immediately ran up with a wisp of lighted hay as a defence against the bees. The latter, however, made no attack, and sought no revenge: they seemed stupified by the catastrophe, and unsuspicious of its cause, and remained crawling and buzzing about the ruins, without offering us any molestation. Every one of the party now fell to with spoon and hunting knife, to scoop out the flakes of honey-comb with which the hollow trunk was stored. Some of them were of old date, and a deep brown colour; others were beautifully white, and the honey in their cells was almost limpid. Such of the combs as were entire were placed in camp-kettles to be conveyed to the encampment; those which had been shivered in the fall were devoured upon the spot. Every stark bee-hunter was to be seen with a rich morsel in his hand, dripping about his fingers, and disappearing as rapidly as a cream tart before the holyday appetite of a schoolboy.

Nor was it the bee-hunters alone that profited by the downfall of this industrious community. As if the bees would carry through the similitude of their habits with those of laborious and gainful man, I beheld numbers from rival hives, arriving on eager wing, to enrich themselves with the ruins of their neighbours. These busied themselves as eagerly and as cheerily as so many wreckers on an Indiaman that has been driven on shore,-plunging into the cells of the broken honey-combs, banqueting greedily on the spoil, and then winging their way full freighted to their homes. As to the poor proprietors of the ruin, they seemed to have no heart to do anything, not even to taste the nectar that flowed around them, but crawled backwards and forwards, in vacant desolation, as I have seen a poor fellow with his hands in his breeches pocket, whistling vacantly about the ruins of his house that had been burnt.

It is difficult to describe the bewilderment and confusion of the bees of the bankrupt hive who had been absent at the time of the catastrophe, and who arrived from time to time, with full cargoes from abroad. At first they wheeled about the air, in the place where the fallen tree had once reared its head, astonished at finding all a vacuum. At length, as if comprehending their disaster, they settled down, in clusters, on a dry branch of a neighbouring tree, from whence they seemed to contemplate the prostrate ruin, and to buzz forth doleful lamentations over the downfall of their republic. It was a scene in which the "melancholy Jacques" might have moralized by the hour.

We now abandoned the place, leaving much honey in the hollow of the tree. "It will be all cleared off

by varmint," said one of the rangers.

"What vermin?" asked I.

66

'Oh, bears, and skunks, and racoons, and 'possums. The bears is the knowingest varmint for finding out a bee-tree in the world. They'll gnaw for days together at the trunk, till they make a hole big enough to get in their paws, and then they'll haul out honey, bees and all."

[WASHINGTON IRVING'S Tour on the Prairies.]

NATURAL HISTORY OF THE MONTHS. XI. NOVEMBER.

Next was November; he full grown and fat

As fed with lard, and that right well might seeme;

For he had been a fatting hogs of late,

That yet his browes with sweat did reek and steam; And yet the season was full sharp and bream; In planting eeke he took no small delight Whereon he rode, not easie was to deeme; For it a dreadful centaur was in sight,

The seed of Saturn and fair Nais, Chiron hight.-SPENSER. NOVEMBER is generally allowed to be the most gloomy month of the year: its cold rains come down till the drenched ground refuses to absorb further moisture; its thickening fogs and mists obliterate the distant features of the landscape, and mingle nearer objects together in one blind confusion.

It has been remarked, that the dreary character of the season usually produces a corresponding effect on man, and that the month of November seldom passes without engendering feelings of sadness and depression, which only the actively-employed portion of the community, whose occupations are such as to demand unceasing attention, can successfully combat. Doubtless there is a depressing effect in inclement weather, which the possession of every in-door comfort can scarcely shield us from; there is no question but that murky skies, dense fogs, or continued rain, are incompatible with healthful exercises, and therefore prejudicial to those who are removed from the necessity of bodily exertion; yet, seeing that all November days are not thus dark and gloomy, that a season of alternate frosty nights, and bright warm days sometimes intervenes, and that even in the time of mists and rain, there is now and then a cessation of the latter, or a partial dispersion of the former, which may be embraced for the purposes of exercise, we are not disposed to quarrel with the season, or to doubt but that by making good use of the bright days, we may be able to bear the dark ones, without experiencing the train of nervous feelings, which inactive habits, weak health, and bad weather, ordinarily give rise to.

thin dancers upon air Go eddying round,

and inevitably remind them of the frail and fading nature of their own existence upon earth, when Congregated thrushes, linnets, larks,

And each wild throat, whose artless strains so late Swelled all the music of the swarming shades Robbed of their tuneful souls, now shivering sit On the dead tree, a dull despondent flock; With not a brightness waving in their plumes, And nought save chattering discord in their note,even then, they will find that there is something still remaining to afford them pleasure: a beautiful gleam of sunshine will often penetrate the morning visit: the varied and singular effects of hoar-frost will sometimes arrest their attention; and the unlooked-for appearance of one or two spring flowers peeping out from some sheltered spot, on a mild and genial day, such as will sometimes return to us even in November, carries the thoughts forward to the bright season whose approach they generally betoken. The neces

sity for taking frequent exercise, and allowing no opportunity to pass without tasting the open air, cannot be too strongly impressed on the studious and contemplative. "It is a well-known fact," says a modern writer, "that in proportion as people do not take air and exercise, their blood becomes thicker and darker: now what darkens and thickens the circulation, and keeps the humours within the pores, darkens and clogs the mind; and we are then in a state to receive pleasure but indifferently and confusedly, and pain with tenfold painfulness."

Though the majority of the trees are stripped of their foliage, or are shedding a leafy deluge around them at every rising gale, yet there are some that retain their summer vesture, and even appear to put on an intenser green as all the rest are fading. The spruce and Scotch fir, the glittering holly, the laurestinus, the red-berried pyracantha, and the magnificent ivy, are more attractive than ever: the picturesque effect of the last-mentioned plant, as it ornaments the village-church, the ancient mansion, or the ruined bridge, and half conceals the ravages of time beneath its matted and glossy foliage, makes it a general favourite, and a most welcome relief to the eye, amid the general desolation of the season. The stiff and glossy texture of the leaves of evergreens, seems expressly fitted to resist the severity of the weather, and the strong tenacious viscid juices which they contain, and which are found to be of a resinous inflammable nature, serve to protect them still more effectually from the cold and damp.

The garden is now deprived of nearly all its attractions. Perhaps the china-rose is still displaying its abundant blossoms, a few hardy stocks and wallflowers yet remain, and the different varieties of chrysanthemum are putting forth their numerous stars; but these, and the other scattered flowers that may be found in the parterre, look pale and chill, and are often either drenched with rain, or nipped with frost, and consequently deprived of their remaining fragrance and beauty.

Food and firing now seem to us of almost equal importance, and there is pleasure in the sound of the busy flail and of the woodman's axe, which are actively exerted to meet the demand for these necessaries. The one fills the air about the homestead with its quick-repeated sounds, and invites the passer-by to admire the heap of shining grain, and the scattered ears leaping and rustling beneath the strokes of the flail; the other arrests his attention on a still, clear day, and tells him of the labours of one

Who wields the axe,

And drives the wedge in yonder forest drear
From morn to eve his solitary task.

The hedger, too, is busily engaged in repairing the fences of his employer. The field-work is generally completed during this month, and farming implements laid aside till the ensuing spring.

The cattle have a dull and disconsolate air at this season: they hang their heads, and look as if benumbed and stupified by the cold. Sheep are penned on patches of the turnip-field, where they make clean riddance of the green tops and the juicy roots, leaving nothing but the hard dry husk of the same.

The birds are all mute during the month, except the familiar robin, who pipes his sweet ditty more plaintively than ever, and grows more and more domesticated with us as the weather becomes more severe, and the audacious sparrows, who chirp loudly and incessantly from the eaves of our dwellings, and watch every opportunity of satisfying their voracious hunger.

Frogs now bury themselves in the mud at the bot

tom of ponds and ditches: lizards, hedgehogs, and badgers, creep into holes of the earth, and remain torpid until the spring; bats suspend themselves by their hind-feet in caves or deserted buildings, and, folding around them the wide-spreading membranes of their fore-feet, sleep away the severe weather; the dormouse falls into its accustomed slumber; and squirrels, rats, and field-mice, having completed the accumulation of their winter-stores, shut themselves up with their provisions till better times shall invite them abroad.

Respecting the keen and chilling blasts of autumn, so distressing to the invalid, and so little relished by any of us, we find the following remarks in the journal of a naturalist :

These periodical winds, violent and distressing as they often prove, are yet unquestionably necessary in the economy of nature. In the autumn of our year, the foliage of trees and plants, &c., putrefies and decays; marshes and dull waters, clogged by their own products, stagnate, and discharge large portions of hydrogen, carbonic gas, &c., injurious and even fatal to animal existence: in summer, all these baneful exhalations are neutralized and rendered wholesome by the vast quantities of oxygen, or vital air, discharged from vegetable foliage: but these agents of benefit by the autumn are no more-consequently the discharge of oxygen is suspended, but the production of unhealthy air increased, by the additional decomposition of the season. To counteract this is probably the business of the storms of wind and rain prevailing at this season, which, by agitating and dissipating the noxious airs, introduce fresh currents, and render the fluid we breathe salubrious.

man.

Thus we find that the God of nature is "from seeming evil, still educing good," and making those very tempests, which alarm us with their fury, and which in times of ignorance were looked upon as especial tokens of His wrath, the means of purifying our atmosphere and subserving the healthfulness of Happy they who in seasons like this can retreat to their comfortable homes, and gratefully enjoy the blessings by which they are surrounded. They can perhaps enter into the poet's description of the repose enjoyed in an hour of parlour twilight, when the faint illumination of the glowing hearth "suits well the thoughtful or unthinking mind." Me oft has fancy, ludicrous and wild,

Soothed with a waking dream of houses, towers,
Trees, churches, and strange visages, expressed
In the red cinders, while with poring eye
I gazed, myself creating what I saw
Nor less amused have I quiescent watched
The sooty films, that play upon the bars
Pendulous, and foreboding in the view
Of superstition, prophesying still

Though still deceived, some stranger's near approach.
'Tis thus the understanding takes repose

In indolent vacuity of thought,

And sleeps, and is refreshed. Meanwhile the face
Conceals the mood lethargic with a mask
Of deep deliberation, as the man

Were tasked to his full strength, absorbed and lost.
Thus oft, reclined at ease, I lose an hour
At evening, till at length the freezing blast,
That sweeps the bolted shutter, summons home
The re-collected powers; and snapping short
The glassy threads, with which the fancy weaves
Her brittle toils, restore me to myself.-CowPER.

MRS. SOMERVILLE remarks that the mighty chain of the Andes, and the yet more lofty Himalaya mountains, bear the same proportion to the earth, that a grain of sand does to a globe three feet in diameter.

LONDON:

JOHN WILLIAM PARKER, WEST STRAND. PUBLISHED IN WEEKLY NUMBERS, PRICE ONE PENNY, AND IN MONTHLY PARTS, PRICE SIXPENCE.

Sold by all Booksellers and Newsvenders in the Kingdom.

THE town of Letarkoon is distant about 972 miles from Cape Town in a north-east direction. This town is inhabited by a civilized tribe belonging to the Kaffer race; viz., the Bichuanas, or Bachapins, among whom we recognise fixed laws, social institutions, and a considerable knowledge of the arts of social life.

The town of Letarkoon occupies the greater part of a plain of about two miles in diameter, surrounded by hills. The soil is sandy, and of a red colour. A grove of camelthorns appears to have once occupied the plain, for many of the stumps were seen by Burchell; the trees had been cut down for the purposes of building the houses and for fuel. No attempt at regularity of arrangement was made in building this town: there are neither streets nor squares; and the only circumstances which seem to have determined the position of a house are evenness of ground and absence of bushes. The town is nothing more than a collection of little villages, each VOL. XVII.

| under the superintendence of its own chieftain, whose concurrence is always necessary in the choice made by a Bachapin for the site of his house; the chief goes with his Kosics* to inspect the spot, and either confirms the choice or appoints another.

The Bachapins still retain that common feature of a savage state, which condemns the weaker sex to perform the severest labour and the greatest drudgery. The women build the houses and keep them in order, and supply all the domestic utensils that are required by the family. They also perform the work required by numerous plantations of corn, beans, and watermelons, which soon after the commencement of the rainy season are found in the vicinity of the town.

The houses of the Bachapins are circular in form:

*The word Kosi, in the Bichuana language, signifies rich, and as such is used to imply a chief. "Riches seem in all countries," says Burchell, "in the early stages of society, to have been the origin of power and importance, and the principal source from which indiappellatives are very commonly assumed as proper names." viduals have derived permanent authority. ** With this nation, 537