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two corners of which were placed satin pillows, marking the seat the pasha occupied according to the position of the sun. Just over a low ledge in the door, we stepped into a small room with a bedding on the floor: this was his sleeping chamber. Surely never monarch had so little luxury or state. Thence we came at once to the magnificent suite of apartments appropriated to the chief lady of the harem. The centre of the principal room formed a sort of octagon, with three recesses, all inlaid with marble. From the four corners opened four smaller rooms, fitted with splendid divans and cushions of velvet and cloth of gold; and a set of marble baths completed this series of elegant apartments. The ceilings, executed by a Greek artist, were lofty and vaulted, ornamented with gold and representations of landscapes, or of palaces and colonnades, the whole painted in light and pleasing colors. The sultana's private sitting-room was still more sumptuous. The ceiling consisted of a circus of palaces, the columns and arches of which were delineated with a most successful regard to perspective. These apartments were until lately occupied by the pasha's deceased wife, mother of Ibrahim by a former husband. Their splendor was singularly contrasted with the plainness of those inhabited by the despot himself. This led one of my friends to ask if I was not penetrated with so convincing a proof of the gal lantry of the Turk: and he challenged me to cite the English husband who would have done so much for the exclusive gratification of his wife; to which I could only reply that, with my erratic propensities, I should not willingly resign the privilege of locomotion for such proofs of affection, and that I apprehended few English women would answer the pasha's idea of a good wife, by continually remaining at home, as if their legs were broken. Mohammed Ali's late consort had great influence over him during her life, as he considered his marriage with her the foundation of his good fortune. She was esteemed and beloved by the people; for her influence was ever employed on the side of justice and mercy. Much of her time was occupied in receiving petitions; but it was seldom she had to refer them to the pasha, as her power was too well known by the ministers to require this last appeal. If, however, in consequence of

any demur on their part, she had to apply to him, he answered their remonstrance by saying, 'It is enough. By my two eyes! if she requires it, the thing must be done, be it through fire, water, or stone.' His highness, during the great heat of the summer, sits below in a room particularly adapted for coolness, and having a marble fountain in the centre. On one of the walls is inscribed, in large Arabic characters, a verse from the Koran, signifying, 'An hour of justice is worth seventy days of prayer.'

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"The magnificent pavilion, which constitutes the chief embellishment of the place, was completed only a few weeks before my visit. On its sides run four galleries or colonnades, composed of elegant pillars of the finest white marble (of an order resembling the Composite), surrounding a sunken court, paved throughout with the same beautiful material. At the corner of each colonnade is a terrace, over which water passes into the court below in a murmuring cascade, having on its ledges figures of fish, sculptured so true to nature, that, with the flowing stream, they appear to move. The whole supply of water rises again through a fountain in the centre, and re-appears in a beautiful jet-d'eau, lofty, sparkling, and abundant. seldom sees an exhibition of this character without apprehending a failure of water; but here the works are fed by the Nile, and the spectator is aware that its exuberance will not cease. In fine weather the pasha occasionally resorts to this splendid fountain with the ladies of his harem, who row about in the flooded court for the amusement of his highness, while he is seated in the colonnade. Great is the commotion when the ladies descend into the garden. A signal is given, and the gardeners vanish in an instant. We were all struck with the ruddy cheeks and healthy appearance of these men. They were principally Greeks; and the gay colors of their fanciful costume,-each with a nosegay or bunch of fruit in his hand,-combined with the luxuriant scenery around, gave them more the semblance of actors in a ballet representing a fete in Arcadia, than the real laborers of a Turkish despot."

ANECDOTES OF AN AFRICAN KING.

RADAMA, the late sovereign of a great part of the island of Madagascar, was very friendly to the English and other Europeans. A British sergeant who attended some of his countrymen to an interview with this prince, sent an account of that and other occurrences to Europe; and from the London Magazine we borrow a part of his communication.

"Having entered on horseback, about five hundred men, all in English uniform, presented arms, and the band struck up God save the King. We descended from our horses, and were conducted across the square to the house where the king awaited Mr. Lyall, and by the time we arrived there his majesty was at the door ready to receive us. Mr. Robin presented the agent to Radama, who immediately shook hands with him very cordially. Agreeably to the custom of the country on a first presentation, we each left a piece of money in his hand, saying, A tribute of respect to your majesty.'

"The king then entered the chief apartment, and made a sign to Mr. Lyall to take the chair on his right hand. Mr. Robin was seated on the left of the king; Mr. Corroller, general and secretary-inchief to Radama, was placed on the agent's right; I myself on the left of the grand marechal. Prince Rataffe, Mr. Philibert (the grand judge), and about twenty of the king's officers, were also present, who stood for some time around the room, and then, by a signal from his majesty, seated themselves. Mr. Lyall now rose and delivered a letter of introduction from Sir G. L. Cole, beside some other letters; several volumes respecting his travels in Russia, all elegantly bound, which excited Radama's minute attention; a machine for spinning silk, which was sent by colonel Staveley; a letter, and a splendid Bible, from the treasurer of the Missionary Society; a Circassian arrow, a Tartar whip, &c. With the whip, the king was greatly amused. He kept it a long time in his hand, showing it now and then to his officers, and laughing heartily at its broad flap, which makes a noise upon the horse's sides.

"A long conversation was kept up with his majesty, who appeared quite able to continue it. He talked of king

George IV., the state of England, Sir R. T. Farquhar, Sir G. L. Cole, our voyage, and of Mr. Lyall's intention of going immediately to Tananarivon, from which the king powerfully dissuaded him, because the bad season had already commenced, and he feared we might catch the fever.

"Mr. Lyall informed the king that he had brought with him the newest and best books on military tactics, and that Mr. M

was capable to instruct his troops in the new manœuvres, according to the work of Sir Henry Torrens. To this his majesty replied, that he felt greatly indebted to the British government for its kindness in selecting Mr. Mand also to Mr. Lyall for having brought the books; and then added, that as his soldiers were but half civilised, and had with much pains and patience become pretty expert in the exercises, agreeably to the old, or Dundas's Regulations, if he attempted any change, the chance was they would be confounded, and would not perform their exercises well, according to one system or the other.

"The conversation having turned upon uniforms, Mr. Lyall said he was sorry to learn that the magnificent coat lately sent from England to his majesty was far too large. The king replied, 'Yes, too large, too wide, too big every way-it is like a sack, but certainly it is a handsome, a superb one.' He then asked if we would wish to see it, to which the agent replied in the affirmative. He withdrew into an adjoining apartment, and in two minutes appeared in his beautiful scarlet and superbly-embroidered coat. He laughed heartily at himself, and said, that the people in England must imagine him to be a very tall man, while I am in reality a little man, as you see.' Wine, ale, &c. were presented, while the king, agent, and myself, as well as all the officers present, drank healths. We then took leave of his majesty with a hearty shaking of hands.

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"I beheld king Radama, who a few years ago wore his sallac, now decorated like an European monarch; a being, who lately was a savage, acting with all the dignity, affability, and kindness of a civilised prince; a man, whose ears had early and long been accustomed only to the sounds of barbarism and slavery, every now and then repeating how deat

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FAINT amorist, what! dost thou think
To taste love's honey, and not drink

One dram of gall? or to devour

A world of sweet, and taste no sour?

Dost thou ever think to enter

Th' Elysian fields, that dar'st not venture

In Charon's barge? a lover's mind
Must use to sail with ev'ry wind.
He that loves, and fears to try,

Learns his mistress to deny.

Doth she chide thee? 'tis to shew it,
That thy coldness makes her do it:
Is she silent? is she mute?

Silence fully grants thy suit:

A. E. M.

Doth she pout, and leave the room?
Then she goes to bid thee come:
Is she sick? why then be sure
She invites thee to the cure:
Doth she cross thy suit with 'No?'
Tush, she loves to hear thee woo:
Doth she call the faith of man

In question? Nay, she loves thee then;
And if e'er she make a blot,

She's lost if that thou hit'st her not.

He that, after ten denials,

Dares attempt no farther trials,

Hath no warrant to acquire

The dainties of his chaste desire.

SELF-CONTRADICTORY VERSES,

by a Lady who did not know her own Mind or Heart.

I Do not love thee!-no! I do not love thee!
And yet when thou art absent I am sad;

And envy even the bright blue sky above thee,
Whose quiet stars may see thee and be glad.

I do not love thee !-yet, I know not why,
Whate'er thou dost seems still well done, to me-
And often in my solitude I sigh,

That those I do love are not more like thee !

I do not love thee !-yet, when thou art gone,
I hate the sound (though those who speak be dear)
Which breaks the ling'ring echo of the tone
Thy voice of music leaves upon my ear.

I do not love thee !—yet thy speaking eyes,
With their deep, bright, and most expressive blue,
Between me and the midnight heaven arise,
Oft'ner than any eyes I ever knew.

I know I do not love thee! yet, alas!
Others will scarcely trust my candid heart;
And oft I catch them smiling as they pass,
Because they see me gazing where thou art.

ODE TO A MOUNTAIN-TORRENT,

translated from the German by Mr. W. Taylor of Norwich.

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VOL. X.

A SONG BY THE LATE LORD BYRON,

communicated to the Public by Mr. Nathan.

I SPEAK not, I trace not, I breathe not thy name-
There is grief in the sound-there were guilt in the fame :
But the tear which now burns on my cheek may impart
The deep thought that dwells in that silence of heart.

Too brief for our passion, too long for our peace,
Were those hours-can their joy or their bitterness cease?
We repent, we abjure, we will break from our chain;
We must part, we must fly, to unite it again.

Oh! thine be the gladness, and mine be the guilt;
Forgive me, adored one-forsake if thou wilt;
But the heart which I bear shall expire undebased,
And man shall not break it, whatever thou may'st.

2 R

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