appear fearful and humbled, for the contempt in which they are held by the Turks is excessive, and they often go poorly clad to avoid exciting suspicion. Yet it is an interesting sight to meet with a Jew wandering with his staff in his hand, and a venerable beard sweeping his bosom, in the rich and silent plain of Jericho, on the sides of his native mountains, or on the banks of the ancient river Kishon, where the arm of the mighty was withered in the battle of the Lord. Did a spark of the love of this country warm his heart, his feelings must be exquisite: but his spirit is suited to his condition.

PEGASUS IN HARNESS.
From Schiller.

A BARD, who 'gainst the world's neglect,
With humble hope, full long had striven,
At length, by many wants oppress'd,

By hunger and by anger driven,

Gave up his poetizing trade,

Forsook his pen, cast off his muse,
And led his Pegasus for sale-
A steed to him of little use.

All Smithfield was astound to see
How proud, how grand and gracefully,
The horse went through his pacing;
And cried, "But for those ugly things
That look so like a pair of wings—
He sure were fit for racing."

They gazed; but yet no one would buy:
"Who wants," said they, a horse to A y,

Or drives aërial rounds?"

A carrier, from the crowd, at length,
Admiring view'd his form and strength,

And offer'd twenty pounds.

His wings are useless, that I own;
But then, said he, I'll tie them down;

He's sound and active, young and strong,

And well can draw a cart along.

Now was his noble head and chest

By collar and by harness press'd;
And Phoebus' steed, by a vile thong,
Was urged to drag a load along;

But when he felt th' unwonted weight,
With native force and fire elate,

He forward sprung;

And threw the cart, with all its load,
Disdainfully beside the road,

Amidst a heap of dung.

The carrier stared; at length he said,
Didst ever sce so wild a jade?

The horse is sure possest:
He's strong as any two at least;
But then so fierce and strange a beast
Alone he will not rest.

Next day they tried another plan,—
Placed him, as leader, in the van,
A steadier next the load;

This seem'd, at first, well to succeed,
Although with an amazing speed
They pass'd along the road.

But whilst his hoofs the pathway spurn'd,
Upward, his look to Heaven was turn'd,
And soon he left the track :

And dragg'd o'er hedge and ditch perforce,
Far distant from its destined course,
The waggon at his back.

Useless alike were curb or rein,
His headlong fury to restrain;
But to a distant mountain's crest,
With unslack'd speed he onward prest.
The carrier thoughtful shook his head,
Sigh'd, and in piteous accents said;—
We'll try what starving him will do :
Perhaps the want of higher food
May serve to tame his fiery mood,

And then I'll try him at the plough.
In three days' time the beauteous steed
Became a skeleton indeed;

And farther still to quell his pride,
They yoked him with an ox beside ;
(Sure ne'er before was man beheld
To drive so strange a team a-field.)
No longer fitted for the race,
Compell'd to drag a heavier pace,
To tread the route his partner treads,
To follow wheresoe'er he leads,
His fire and courage all seem'd gone,
And with them, too, his vigour flown,
Till, toiling up a rising mound,
He sank exhausted to the ground.
Confound the brute! the carrier said,
And raised his whip above his head;
But whilst the lash was poised in air,
A noble youth surpassing fair,
With heavenly mien and golden hair,
Came tripping o'er the green.
His locks, that floated in the wind,
Were by a brilliant band confined—

And,-oh!" he cried, "my friend, forbear;
Where wouldst thou drive so strange a pair?
Now trust thy horse to me, I pray,
He soon shall show as proud and gay
As ever he hath been."

But when, discumber'd from the pack,
The stranger vaulted on his back,
And laughing seized the rein :
The steed, obedient to command,
Knew his celestial master's hand,

And started forth again.

No longer the same beast he seem'd;
But from his sparkling eyes there beam'd
Strange dazzling rays of light;

And long before th' astonish'd swain
Could steadfast look at him again,
He vanish'd from his sight.

B. V. O.

NOUVEL ALMANACH DES GOURMANDS.

Concluded.

"Tout s'arrange en dinant dans le siècle où nous sommes,
Et c'est par des diners qu'on gouverne les hommes."

Les Comediens.

HAVING in our previous taste of this most savoury and stomachstirring work given our readers a smack of the preliminary matter, and gravely discussed the merits of the dejeuner à la fourchette, we now arrive at that deeply interesting meal which our author pronounces to be the most important act of the daily drama of Epicurism.

"At this happy moment," he exclaims, "a moment expected with such a sweet impatience, all the affections, all the sensibility of the gourmand are concentrated in his palate; and when with a manly and insinuating voice the maitre d'hotel, arrayed in the insignia of his office, announces that dinner is served, the countenance of each guest expands like a rose beneath the fostering rays of the sun. Now it is that the cook can display the whole extent of his genius; the French kitchen reckons more than six hundred dishes: what a vast field for science!"

It may not be generally known in England, although it is an example well worthy of imitation, that some of the Parisian restaurateurs undertake to give anatomical lessons, which they modestly designate "instruction in the elegant art of carving ;" and that their pupils are by no means limited to professional gentlemen, but embrace amateurs of all descriptions. Their mode of cookery requires much less of this surgical skill than our own, and yet M. De Perigord is so penetrated with its value that he declares

"Of all the studies which compose a handsome and liberal education, the most important, the most useful, is unquestionably the art of carving. This amiable talent, which enhances the value of its possessor, may strictly be said to supersede all others. It is a substitute for understanding, for knowledge, sometimes even for fortune. An awkward host cuts but a poor figure beside the useful guest who performs for him the most important of

his functions."

We know not whether our court of aldermen, or our Romeos and Benedicks, be most interested in the following profound remark, which we think it right to extract for the benefit of all parties.

"There are in fact three sorts of appetite: That which arises from hunger, an animal appetite, easily satisfied, which resembles first love, or the burning desire of an inexperienced young man. The appetite of the second course, which, though less impatient, is not less lively, and may be compared to the conjugal appetite. The third appetite, which requires to be stimulated to the enjoyment of the factitious, but still delicate pleasures for those who know how to relish them, bears some affinity with the fires of libertinism." Deeply impressed as we have always been with the science required to provide an unexceptionable dinner, we were not before aware that

there was even an art in eating it. Such, however, appears to be the

case.

"How few people," cries this all-accomplished wielder of the knife and fork, "know how to eat a good dinner! Some rush precipitately upon the dishes, pillage the first course, and begin to languish before the second. Others dine more leisurely, but still without method, without calculation, without real pleasure, almost all are ignorant of the art of graduating their sensations, and scientifically preparing their enjoyments. We should begin with tender and light meats, augment and vary the savour of the second course, then call sugar and ambrosia to our aid, scattering a few aromatic spices and volatile spirits, and tempering the whole by the freshness of cooling fruits."

After dinner we are very methodically presented with "a Didactic Essay upon the Dessert," whose mission, we are informed,

"Is to console the satiated stomach by imparting the most seductive sensations to the palate. Its object is to deceive the guest as to his repletion, and persuade him that a full vase may yet hold something more. Gastrono

mists, not over delicate in the choice of words, are accustomed to say that the dessert is intended for cleansing the teeth. We invoke the most earnest attention of our readers to this last scene of a superb melodrame, this pathetic dénouement of a most interesting piece, this concluding display of a splendid firework."

An indignant diatribe now bursts from the author against plateaux, epergnes, vases of flowers, pasteboard temples, bisquit decorations, and all those succedanea for masticable matter, which, as he very justly observes, can have no other partisans in so enlightened an age as the present, than those mean-spirited hosts who presume to give entertainments without daring to face the consequences, and vainly endeavour to conceal their shabbiness beneath masses of crystal and domes of tinsel.

"Let us," he exclaims, "return to more gastronomical principles. I permit you to have temples, but let them be of sugar; vases, but of fleur d'orange; flowers, but in confectionary. Let a monument of the richest architecture rear itself in the middle of the table; let crystallised sugar sparkle in the light of the lustres, and imitate diamonds. Let garlands, also of sugar, assume the form of roses, laurels, everlastings, so that, after having been gratified by the sight of this temple, the guest may taste its component parts, and, after having applauded its wonderful and delicate construction, enjoy the not less lively pleasure of its demolition."

From the chapter upon coffee our limits do not permit us to make any extracts; nor from the next, which is entitled " Journey round a Cellar," and gives a list of more than a hundred and fifty different sorts of wine, with which every gourmet ought to be acquainted; though we must pause a moment to express our perfect accordance with the writer, that the importance of vin ordinaire is in general underrated. When judiciously selected, there is no beverage more delicious; and these enjoyments, which are of the most frequent occurrence, should certainly command our most critical consideration.

However presumptous it may be deemed to differ from so profound an artist as Mon. A. B. De Perigord, candour obliges to avow that after a residence of several years in France, we still remain unreconciled to the subject of the next chapter, which treats of the "Glass of Eau sucrée, considered in its political, digestive, and literary attributes," under the former of which divisions we encounter the following anecdote.

"Lady Marlborough was haughty, and was singularly disliked by the Queen of England. Churchill, her husband, had almost reduced France to extremities, menacing Louis in the very heart of a kingdom which until his reign had been free from all invasion. At a ball given by the Queen, she asked for a glass of water, which Lady Marlborough brought, and spilt over her gown. This accident, attributed to intentional insolence, and aggravated by the comments of the Duchess's enemies, occasioned Marlborough to be immediately recalled; the soul of the Coalition was withdrawn, and France

was saved."

We knew not that our neighbours had so good an excuse for their bad taste; and we now see the origin of the superstition which considers this insipid beverage an almost universal panacea. Its medicinal and digestive properties are highly vaunted in the work before us; but for our own parts we hate physic at any time, however insinuating may be its disguises. Timeo Danaos et dona ferentes; though we concede to our author, that it affords a favourable opportunity to ladies for taking off their gloves, displaying the brilliancy of their rings and the whiteness of their hands.

Passing over the "Poesie Gourmande," which, in sooth, is less savoury and stimulating than the prose, we arrive at the "Constitution of a Gastronomical Society," containing copious regulations for the government of an epicurean dinner-club, some of which we shall insert for the guidance of the similar institutions which are now starting up so rapidly in the parishes of St. James's and Marylebone, though our instructions may probably be deemed superfluous.

Every word uttered during the first course is to be considered abusive, and punished as such.-During the second course conversation is allowed, provided it be consecrated to some gastronomical subject.-An entire freedom of speech is allowed during the third course. Nevertheless, political, philosophical, and literary discussions are forbidden, as calculated to impede mastication, by occasioning an useless distraction of the mind.-The personal liberty of the guests is without limits. They are, however, forbidden to quit the table before the conclusion of dinner, which must always last five hours."

Under the head of "Regulations relative to the Artists who prepare the dinner," it is laid down that the chef de cuisine is entitled to the following advantages:

"Half the dessert is his exclusive property.-He cannot overcharge more than five per cent. upon the purchases. He may get drunk every night after serving dinner."

Such are his perquisites; and the following are his duties:

"He must serve hot, under pain of dismissal.-He is not to drink the Madeira given him to put in the sauces.-He is forbidden to taste the preparations with his fingers.-He is not allowed to sell for his own profit more than half the gravy-meat intended for enriching the stews."

Contenting ourselves with merely enumerating the succeeding chapters-" Of the Classical and Romantic, as applied to the kitchen;-of the controversy between the advocates and opponents of larding certain joints and birds ;-of Cooks, male and female;-of Haunches of mutton, with illustrative anecdotes ;-of gastronomical novelties ;" we shall conclude this notice, which nothing but the grave importance and universal interest of the subject would have induced us to extend to