their predecessors, stood before them like the mummies at Egyptian banquets, mementos of the end of their young life's festival. There were missionary clergymen with Ruth-like wives, merchants with portfolios that never left their hands, young widows with eyes black as their mourning and sparkling as their useless marriage ring, and one or two fair girls, heaven knows what sorrow sent them there, wanderers from their English homes of peace and purity over the ocean and the desert, to encounter the worse danger of Indian society. All these various groups were scattered over the upper deck, a fine expanse of two hundred feet in length, without a stain or interruption to the lady's walk or the sailor's rush. Below, the scene was very different. Miss Mitford herself would recognise the lower deck as a complete village. It was a street of cabins, over whose doors you read the names of the doctor, the baker, the butcher, the confectioner, the carpenter, and many others, besides the quality at the west end, in the shape of officers' quarters. This

street terminated in a rural scene; and the smell of new-mown hay, the lowing of cattle, the bleating of sheep, and the crowing of cocks, produced quite a pastoral effect. It is true that the dairy-maid wore moustaches, boathooks stood for shepherd's crooks, and the only swains were the boatswain and the cockswain, the former of whom was more given to whistling than to sighing. Among these signs of peace and plenty four carronades frowned rather gloomily, but a lamb tethered to one and an unfortunate cat picketted to another, distracted from their awfulness. Beneath the farmyard throbbed the iron heart of the gigantic engine; and the "village tree" was represented by a copper funnel, up which the steam went sighing as if that heart would break. About noon the last boat shoved off, the gangway curled itself up, a voice from the paddle-boxes said quietly "go on!" and the vast vessel glided away as smoothly as a gondola. Within the ship was at work the convulsive energy of four hundred and fifty horse-power, that was to know no rest for three thousand miles; but without, all was so calm and undisturbed that she seemed still at anchor but for the villas and villages, and woods and lawns that

went scampering as if running a steeplechase to Salisbury. The beautiful Southampton water, grim-looking Portsmouth, and the gentle Isle of Wight fled rapidly away behind us, and then the shores of old England began to fade from our view. The first day of our voyage passed very silently away-many were sea sick, and more were sick at heart; but in the evening there was a startling eruption of writing desks, and a perfect flutter of pens preparing for the Falmouth post-bag. I think I see those eager scribes before me now-the man of business with his swift and steady quill, women gracefully bending over their twice-crossed notes, (not the more legible, lady, for that tear,) and lonely little boys biting their bran-new penholders, and looking up to the ceiling in search of pleasant things to say to some bereaved mother, whose only comfort, perhaps, was to be that little scrawl, till her self-sacrificing heart was at rest for ever, or success had gilded her child's far distant career. While one end of the saloon was looking like a counting-house, the other was occupied by a set of old stagers, whose long smothered conversation broke out with vehemence over their brandy and water. These jolly old fellows seemed as if no one had any claims upon their correspondence, they were father and mother, brother and sister to themselves, and their capacious waistcoats comprised their whole domestic circle. The following day we were at Falmouth and then we were at sea.

II

GIBRALTAR AND MALTA.

"True as the arrow to its aim, The meteor flag of England flew." SIR F. DOYLE.

POETRY never breathed a truer strain than in that glorious song of Barry Cornwall's "The Sea." Every heart dilated and every pulse beat high, as with favouring breezes in a cloud of sail, we swept along our "mountain path" over the Bay of Biscay. The regrets, and cares, and sorrows of the land seemed all forgotten, as we dashed along another and a grander element.

The merry and light-hearted yet gallant bearing of the sailor is no accident, it issues naturally from his stirring and eventful career: from the exhilarating air he always breathesthe freedom from petty cares that he enjoys, and from the almost unconscious pride of a chivalrous profession which there are no town-bred coxcombs to laugh down. His life is passed upon the ocean, that one great battle-field of England, which her flag has swept in triumph from the time of the Armada, "when the winds and waves had a commission from the Almighty to fight under English banners,"* to these latter days when the fortresses of Syria crumbled into ruins before her thunder, and a nation containing one third of earth's inhabitants bowed down before her.†

We passed from the Bay of Biscay into waveless waters, sheltered by the Spanish shore; and thenceforth every morning rose with brighter suns and balmier breezes, until we came in sight of Cape St. Vincent and Trafalgar, backed by the bold outlines of the African shore. The thoughts evoked by the scenes of Nelson's death and victory were not interrupted by the next bold headland. There was Gibraltar, and there England's flag was flying. There was not a cloud in all the calm and glowing sky-the crescent moon, the emblem of Moslem power, was trembling over the picturesque land of the Moor, almost dissolved in a flood of sunshine. The sea, a filigree of blue and silver, faintly reflected the mountains of Medina Sidonia, among whose snowy summits we seemed to steer; and all Spain seemed taking a siesta as we dashed into the bay of Gibraltar. The surrounding scenery, even divested of all association, is full of interest. An amphitheatre of finely undulated hills with Algesiras in their bosom, sweeps along the left. front upon a slight eminence the village of San Rogue grins like a set of white teeth, with precipices for its jaw, and the celebrated Cork wood for its

In

moustaches; beyond is a range of dark green hills backed by the mountains of Grenada, the Sierra Nevade, a faint purple tinging the snow-fleaked peaks. Further to the right there is a low sandy tract, the neutral ground, and then, suddenly starting up to the height of fifteen hundred feet stands the rock of Gibraltar, bound round with fort and battery and bristling with innumerable guns. Its base is strewn with white houses, perched like sea-gulls wherever they could find a resting-place; and here and there little patches of dark green announced a garden. Curtain, ravelin, and rampart blend and mingle with nature's fortifications; and zig-zag lines from shore to summit look like conductors for the defender's electric fire to flash along. Yet it is a maxim now that no place, even this, is in itself impregnable; and it is not in the defences of wall or cliff, but in the Spartan's rampart of brave hearts within, that we proudly feel the British flag floats as securely here, as on the tower of London.

Here the invading Moors established themselves,

When Cava's traitor sire first called the band That dyed her mountain streams with Gothic gore,

and Gibel Tarik‡ became Gibraltar. A boatful of us was soon ashore and scattered over the place, to steep or cliff or bastion as their tastes prompted. I galloped off on a spirited little barb to the signal station, the galleries, the Alameda and the Moorish castle. Every spot was full of interest-from the craggy summit with its magnificent view over Spain and Africa, to the mingled mass of house and rock, and verandahs almost meeting across the precipitous streets. The population was very varied and picturesque-the Moor's "dusk faces with white turban wreathed;" the Contrabandistas with embroidered jacket and tinkling bridles setting out for the hills; the Jew with his gabardine, and that stern medallic countenance in which the history of his

* South.

race seems written; the merchant with his sombrero; the Turk with his tarboosh, the English sailor and the plumed highlander. We sailed as the evening gun was fired. The coast of Barbary looked beautiful in the fading light, which harmonized well with that land of old romance and mystery. Even in these later days it is almost as virgin to speculation and enterprise as when the Gothic kings meditated its invasion. One of the pillars of Hercules has held from five to six thousand resting British troops for nearly a century and a half; the other, Mount Ahyle, whose shadow at sunrise reaches almost across the narrow strait, has never yet been trod by English foot. It is inhabited by a fierce race of Moors who believe that their best chance of paradise is, to swim thither in Christian blood. We caught glimpses of Tangiers and Yetuan, and then bore away for Cape de Gatta with a still favouring breeze in the top-gallant and studding sails that had so long winged us on, and a brilliant moon lighting up the coast of Granada. It is now three hundred and sixty years since the Moors were expelled from this fair land, through which they so long enlightened Europe with the wisdom of the East and the chivalry of the desert. Under their

rule its gardens smiled, its valleys waved with corn, its very rocks were wreathed with vines, and the Alhambra rose. But a bigotry and fanaticism fiercer than their own could not brook the happiness of a Moslem people, and the banners of Ferdinand were unfurled.

"Red gleamed the cross and waned the crescent pale, "And Afric's echoes thrilled with Moorish matron's wail,"

The Moors were banished-poverty and desolation came in their place, and even now the Christian traveller only ventures among the misery-made robbers of Granada in search of the remains of Moslem civilization. It seemed a natural transition from the land of the Abencerrages to that of Africa, for which we were now steering. Europe sank at sunset below the horizon on our left, and the following day but one Algiers rose with morning on our right. The first view of the

coast is very peculiar and picturesque in shape and colouring. Steep purple hills rising abruptly from the sea, broken with dark rifts, are here brightened with little emerald lawns, and there gloomed over by the palm and fig tree. Villas white as marble speck the well-wooded parks along the shore, the snowy summits of Mount Atlas are cut clearly out against the bright blue sky above, and a line of sparkling foam runs along the borders of the bright blue sea below. The city of Algiers, on the right as you enter, looks eastward over its beautiful bay. It is almost in a pyramidal form, very concentrated, and with its flat and regular roofs looks like a succession of white marble terraces, as with here and there a swelling mosquedome, or a tapering minaret. This was once the seat of oriental luxury and art; but when the greater robber drove out the lesser, its pleasant places were all defiled; the fountains were choked up, the porcelain floors were broken, the palm trees cut down, and the gardens trampled into wildernesses. Richly did the land deserve a scourge, and never yet were found fitter ministers of wrath than those who visited it. I must hurry on past Tunis and desolate Carthage," but not in silence pass Calypso's isle." This beautiful gem of the sea called Pantellaria is now a penal settlement belonging to Naples: it contains all the beauties of a continent in miniature. There are mimic mountains with craggy summits, mimic valleys with cascades and rivers, lawny meadows and dark woods, trim gardens and tangled vineyards, silvery sands and craggy shores-all within a circuit of five or six miles. It would be a perfect paradise with a Jewish Calypso; but the clank of chains is heard instead of the shepherd's pipe, the exile's wail instead of woman's song, and the felon herd who turn up its soil are scarcely less degraded than the swinish multitude who wallowed round its ancient goddess. We soon came in sight of Goz, a rival claimant for the doubtful honour of being Calypso's isle, and again found ourselves under the shelter of the British flag in the harbour of Malta. La Valetta is a sort of hybrid between a Spanish and an

Eastern town; most of its streets are flights of steps, to which the verandahs are like gigantic banisters. Its terraced roofs restore to the cooped-up citizens all the ground lost by building upon; and there are probably not less than five hundred acres of promenadable roof in, or rather on the city. The church of San Giovanni is very gorgeous, with its vaulted roof of gilded arabesque, its crimson tapestries, finely carved pulpits, massy silver rails, and the floor, one immense mosaic of knightly tombs, on which their coats of arms are finely copied in marble and precious stones. The palaces of the different nations (or tongues, as they were called,) are now barracks; and probably the costumes of their olden time did not differ more from one another than that of its present military occupants-the dark green of the rifleman, the scarlet uniform of the 88th, and the varied garb of the highlander, "all plaided and plumed in his tartan array." All the costumes of Europe, Asia, and Africa are to be met with in the streets: that of the inhabitants is of blue cotton, as bright as if dyed in the surrounding sea. The latter are a swarthy, stunted race, of every indifferent character, with great vivacity and intelligence in their glittering eyes. The population in both town and country swarms in a proportion eight times as great as that of England. Being very frugal and industrious, they are just able to keep themselves alive at present; but what is to become of them a few years hence, Sir Henry Bouverie and Malthus only know. Ascetism in the island produced its usual licentious results; and the order bequeathed its morals to the present inhabitants-a legacy which does not tend to diminish their numbers. Many of the women are very beautiful, combining the gazelle eye of the east with the rich tresses of the north and the statuesque profile of Greece and Italy. Their peculiar head-dress, the onnella, contributes not a little to the effect of their beauty. It is a black silk scarf, worn over the head like a veil, but gathered in on one side, so as not to eclipse the starry eyes which it seems always endeavouring to cloud over. Malta is the most warlike look

*

ing town in the world; the glitter of uniforms is never out of your eyes, the blast of the bugle and the roll of the drum are never out of your ear. The citizens have their only walks upon ramparts, their drives along covered ways, and their very gardens are in the fosses; instead of curbstones there are old cannon, and if you want to dismount you tie your horse's bridle to an anchor. After visiting the handsome and well-furnished library, and the armoury, I ascended one of the flat roofs to obtain a view of the island. It is like a heap of limestones broken by the road side for Macadamizing purposes, with here and there a bit of something green in their interstices; nevertheless the islanders contrive to squeeze wine, and corn, and oil out of the sticks and stones that here represent the trees and fields of other coun

tries. After taking a bird's-eye view of the rock, I galloped along what Lady B. calls a macadamable road to Citta Vecchia, to see the Phoenician catacombs and the deserted city: the former very much resembles those of Rome and Syracuse, but the latter is, I believe, unique. You ride along fortifications of great strength without a stone displaced, or a particle of moss growing on their walls, and enter by a broken drawbridge into a stately, but profoundly silent city. The houses want only inhabitants to be homes once more; and the palaces are magnificent: grass and rank weeds are growing in the streets, which yield no echo to your horse's hoofs, and the wind sighs among the lonely pillars and porticoes with that wailing sound so peculiar to deserted places. The only living things I encountered in this strange city's wide enclosure were a friar and a pig, both walking there for an appetite, I presume, for there were no alms or food to be found within their once crowded walls. This was the capital of the island until Lavalette transferred the residence of the order to the city which was called after him. A little beyond Citta Vecchia is St. Paul's bay, which, notwithstanding the arguments (ill founded, as it seems to me,) of modern authors against Malta being the Melita of the apostle, retains the traditionary honour of which no pen

2 F

and ink can now deprive it. On conversing with some of the natives as I rode shipwards, I found that they, like other people, had their good old times, ("all times when old are good,") and these they consider to have been when the order possessed their island. Being a people they would fain exchange the present for the ancient or for any other government. They forget their degraded condition under the knights, which prevented any native from entering the order, (or even the city, without permission)-which gave their daughters to be concubines to men who were as disdainful as incapable of a lawful connection, and which vested arbitrary power in an oligarchy of strangers. If there is less foreign money spent among them now, their taxation is far lighter. They have all the advantages of English laws as well as of their own; they sit on juries; are capable of serving in any department, and have a native regiment paid by the British government. Important as this island is as a naval station, it was perhaps fortunate for England that a less scrupulous nation took that advantage of the degeneracy of the order and the imbecility of Hompesch which our ideas of justice might have forbidden. I took a last look of Malta from the quarter-deck of its noblest ornament, the "Queen," Sir Edward Owen's flag-ship, and, after a few days' stormy passage, found myself at anchor off the city of Cleopatra.

III.

ALEXANDRIA.

We have past over cities in song renowned,
Silent they lie with the desert round."

EGYPT is the only country in the world, except perhaps America, that seems never to have had an infancy. Its earliest people appear to have been the most mature. The only progress we can trace is that of decay and old

age; and we find her in her present state of second childhood, while we know nothing of her first: she was probably in her zenith, and

"Grey power was seated

Safely on her ancestral throne,"t

while Abram was yet wandering in the plains of Chaldea. The prophecy that had doomed her to be subject to foreign nations had been fulfilled; the last of her native princest had perished before the birth of our Saviour, and the Christian faith had been banished from her land before it was established in our own. It would be as vain to attempt to give any connected story of such a country in these slight pages, as to embroider muslin with Cleopatra's needle. In the following fragments I shall only attempt to touch upon such topics as I imagine are most likely to interest those who have never visited the country:-the principal cities of Egypt and Ethiopia; their women and their men; their magic, magnetism, and freemasonry; their resources, military, agricultural, and commercial; their palaces and tombs, and such other matters as may sug

gest themselves in a sort of imaginary conversation with the reader; praying that proverbially courteous personage to bear in mind indulgently, that they are hastily transcribed from notes yet more hastily scribbled in the desert, in Arab boats, in the tent, and on the

sea.

I stood upon the modern Pharos at sunrise, and as my eyes wandered over Alexandria, to which the ancient city "has bequeathed nothing but its ruins and its name," I could observe no traces of what it once had been-the emporium of the East, the seat of empire, the centre of learning and civilization. Though earth and sea remain unchanged, imagination can scarcely find a place for the ancient walls, fifteen miles in circumference; the vast street through the vista of whitę marble porticoes; the galleys on Lake

† Shelly.

Ezekiel xxx. 13.