founds him, in every part of Egypt as well as in Cairo, is the manifest opposition of the modes and customs of Mahometan countries to those of Christendom. Here the head is shaved, the beard unshorn, the men wear petticoats of cloth, the women trowsers of silk or cotton. Instead of a hat, a piece of muslin is twisted round the head; instead of a surtout, a blanket is thrown across the shoulders; a carpet serves for a bed; a wooden bowl for a service of plate; a pewter tray for a table cloth; fingers do for forks, and swords for carving, knives. A man salutes without stooping, sits down without a chair, he is silent without reflection, and serious without sagacity. If you inquire after the health of his wife, it is at the hazard of your head; if yoù praise the beauty of his children, he suspects you of the evil eye. The name of the prophet is in every man's mouth, and the fear of God in few men's hearts. The women hide their faces, and heed not the exhibition of their bosoms; they glory in the las civious evolutions of the Alme, and blush at the immodesty of an English woman without a veil. One would almost think there was a purposed hostility to all the modes and customs of Christendom; and when the Egyptian bestows his contempt. uous regard on our ridiculous attire, for such it is to him, and on our immoral practice of suffering our women to go abroad, he has just the same extraordinary opinion of our dress and manners that we have of his. Madden's Travels

in Turkey, Egypt, &c.

We extract the following from the above work :-"I found," says our traveller, on September 26th, a large cameleon in a mulberry-tree, and was much amused with this strange but ugly animal, and more particularly with the construction of its singularly revolving eyes. Ponto was also much entertained, and smelt and turned it over and over, without attempting to hurt it. The animal

James II, when Duke of York, made a In the course of their visit to Milton. conversation, the Duke asked Milton, "whether he did not think the loss of his sight was a judgment upon him for what he had written against his father, Charles I.?" Our immortal bard made the following reply:-" If your Highness thinks that the calamities which befal us here are indications of the wrath of heaven, in

what manner are we to account for the

fate of the king your father? The displeasure of heaven must, upon this supposition, have been much greater against him than me, for I have only lost my eyes-but he lost his head."

a most enormous mouth, underneath which is a large bag, similar to that of the pelican.

"On the 27th, I found a smaller cameleon, and shot a beautiful bird of the flycatcher tribe, called in this country a "bee-eater, "its back and wings of a greenish blue, and its belly and thighs of a bright yellow, it has a long black bill, rather curved towards the point, and the black streak over the eye, characteristic of the fly-catcher species. It is gregarious, and flies rapidly in flocks

Miss Lean.

THE waters of the Rhine have long maintained their pre-eminence, as forming one of the mightiest and loveliest among the highways of Europe; and now that they have been polluted by the noisome, but seemingly attractive accommodations of the Dampschiffe, the beauties of the Rhenish shores have been visited by pilgrims from our own country, more numerous and more zealous than ever knelt before the shrine of Becket, or of our Lady of Loretto. Many, indeed, and various are the charms, by which the prince of rivers continues to allure the wanderings of the idle, the restless, and the rich. The quaint old world cities, which reflect themselves in its waves, offering the same contrast to their modern suburbs, that a beauty in coif and farthingale would oppose to a Parisian grisette, and the tree-tufted villages, which, with their rustic spires and whitened walls, might represent a third Grace, in the guise of a fair peasant,-enliven the 5-VOL. IV.

F

banks of the Rhine with a characteristic population. In the misty distance, the seven mountains display the rich and romantic grouping of their lofty summits; while, nearer to the shore, and apparently springing from the blue depths of the river, gigantic and pinnacled rocks spread their darkening shadows over the waters. Of these, many are crowned with the mouldering towers of feudal pride; others are adorned with a fringe of beech-trees, which, springing from their shelving ledges, enliven the granite with their bright overhanging boughs; and some, and those the most inaccessible, have been transformed by the hand of industry into thriving vineyards, where the light foot of the winzer or vintager, bounded to his labours, appears to emulate the perils of the samphiregatherers of our native cliffs. Here, the spires of some lonely monastery surmount the highest crags of the rocky bank ;there, the cloistered votaries have sought a still more isolated seclusion, upon the very bosom of the waves. The towers and defences of obsolete warfare are contrasted with the iron strength of modern

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fortresses; and the embattled keep of some Lord of Chivalry frowns upon the greenshuttered lust-haus of the living Burgmeister. Thus rich in every variety of landscape, animate and inanimate, the successive scenery of the Rhine boasts an intensity of interest scarcely to be surpassed,

But among all its united trophies of art and nature, there is not one more brightly endowed with picturesque beauty or romantic associations, than the fortress of Ehrenbreitstein. When the eye of our Childe Harold rested upon its "shattered wall," and when the pencil of Turner immortalized its season of desolation, it had been smitten in the pride of its strength by the iron glaive of war; and its blackened fragments and stupendous ruins had their voice for the heart of the moralist, as well as their charm for the inspired mind of genius. But now that military art hath knit those granite ribs anew,-now that the beautiful eminence rears once more its crested head, like a sculptured Cybele, with a coronet of towers,-new feelings, and an altered scale of admiration wait upon its glories. Once more it uplifts its

giant height beside the Rhine, repelling in Titan majesty the ambition of France; once more, by its united gifts of natural position and scientific aid, it appears prepared to vindicate its noble appellation of the broad stone of honour."

But those unto whom the varying destinies which have bannered its walls are intimately known, are tempted to consider its renovated condition as in some respects a loss. There was a small ruined chamber among the shattered fragments of its darker hour, which connected itself with a legend of no ordinary interest.

In the course of the campaigns immediately following the French Revolution, the fortress of Ehrenbreitstein experienced on more than one occasion, the unequal fortunes of war; and was compelled to submit to the superior force, or superior skill, of a conquering army. After the passage of the French troops under Hoche, effected at Weisse Thurm, in 1797, a blockade, which endured until the peace of Loeben, harassed its devoted garrison. It was then abandoned to the possession of the troops of the Elector of Mayence; and although the little town of Thal,

situated at its base, had been sacrificed in the course of the siege, Coblentz, whose position on the opposite bank, at the confluence of the Moselle with the Rhine, derives its best security from the fortress, was thus restored to tranquillity and a hope of happier times. The confusion of an ill-disciplined and inexperienced army, had indeed rendered abortive to the Rhenish shores those local advantages by which they ought to have been secured from devastation; and the prolonged disorganization and disunion prevalent in the adjacent provinces, had, by the most Impolitic inconsistency, embarrassed every branch of public business; and while agriculture was driven from the ravaged plains, and commerce from the ensanguined waves of the Rhine, civil discord had embroiled the citizens of almost every town of mark along its course. But affairs were now beginning to wear a more promising aspect. The Congress of Rastadt had already opened its negociations, and despair on one side, and exhaustion or weariness on the other, had succeeded in cooling the heat of those national feuds which had brought the ruinous footsteps of advancing and retreating armies to trample the bosom of an afflicted country. That there were some among its sons overeager to avenge the deep scars thus inflicted, the murder of the French deputies, at the very gates of Rastadt, terribly attests.

It chanced that some days previous to the opening of the Congress, a French noble, the Count d'Aubigny, with his wife and son, had been arrested, on their return to their native country, by the authorities of Coblentz; who, judging from the passports and papers in his possession that he had high influence, and an important connection with the Directory, secured him in the fortress of Ehrenbreitstein as a valuable hostage for the interests of their city. The Count, who had sought safety in emigration during the short supremacy of one of the earlier and more furious factions of the republic, had been recently recalled to fill an appointment of dignity and honour under the new government. Galling as it was to his feelings to be thus thwarted and restrained upon the very threshold of France, yet his trust in the efficacy of an appeal which he had forwarded to the Congress, prevented him from giving way to the natural impatience of his mind. A deeper feeling, however,―a feeling of horror and desperation,-soon superseded his irritation and regrets-a body of French troops presented itself before the fortress, menacing its garrison and luckless inhabitants with all the horrors of a protracted siege.

It was in vain that D'Aubigny recalled to his own mind, and whispered to his fair companion, that the fortress was bombproof, and casemated with unequal art; and still more vain were his entreaties to Colonel Faber, its brave but sturdy commandant, that his wife and child might be conveyed under a flag of truce to Coblentz. The Colonel, to whom his prisoner was both nationally and individually an object of distrust, persisted that the interest of his command forbade the concession.

"Your ladies of France," said he,"God give them grace!-are too nimbletongued to be trusted in an enemy's camp and Moritz Faber will scarcely be tempted to enable the fair countess to carry tidings of the nakedness of the land and of the impoverished resources of the fort, unto a band which bears the tri-coloured rag as its ensign, and treachery as its pass-word. No, no!-abide in the old eagle's nest.Our galleries are a surety from your friends in the valley; and when our provisions fail,—which fail they shall, ere I yield the charge committed to my hand unto a gang of marauding cut-throats, the countess and her son shall honourably share our fare and our famine. Perhaps the plea of a lady's sufferings may more promptly disperse your gentle countrymen yonder, who write themselves preus chevaliers, than falconet or culverin!"

Count d'Aubigny, finding persuasion fruitless, and knowing that resistance might even less avail him, could only pray, that either the return of his own estafette from Rastadt, or of that dispatched by Colonel Faber, might bring a

mandate of intelligence between the besieging and besieged. A few days sufficed to show, and the expiration of several weeks tended most horribly to prove, that the fortress had indeed been surprised in an hour of security and consequent destitution; he looked tremblingly to the result, and marked the daily diminution of their appointment of provisions, with a sense of dread he dared not reveal to his companions in misfortune.

If any woman, however, could be gifted

to receive with fortitude an announcement

of evil severe as that anticipated by the Count, it was Evéline-his lovely and most beloved wife; for her mind was as firm and elevated in its character, as her demeanour and disposition were femininely gentle; and her attachment to the young Eugène, the son of D'Aubigny by a former marriage, partook of a conscientious devotion to his interests, such as the mere tenderness of maternal love could not have alone suggested. It was for him,—it was for that fair boy, who had loved her so fondly, that her first apprehensions of