tween the contact of a dirty abbas, and a half savage, and good, stout Eastern fever. We came in, and cast ourselves down in the midst of the herd, without much ceremony or arrangement. Their strange groups, constantly shifting before our half-closed eyes, formed all that variety of fantastic vision which we sometimes see thrown out at random in the studies of a powerful master. I was disturbed by them as by a sick dream; indeed, at the moment this was something more than mere imagination. I had suffered much from the fatigue and heat of the journey; my rheumatism had seriously increased, and I had every apprehension I should at last be prevented, by an access of fever, from proceeding on my journey. We remained thus tolerably tranquil for nearly two hours, and rather desiring than finding sleep, when tired of this neutral state, provoked at the duplicity of our guides, and questioning the sincerity of their promises, we at last leaped up, and resolved on putting Mersheb instantly to the test. Mersheb was accordingly summoned with his companion, and our conference opened with due ceremony. He sate down opposite to us with his usual hypocritical smile; the Governor's soldier was on his right, our interpreters on his left; the Sheikh and Mersheb's sheepskin companion behind, and a cohort of his friends and relatives near. One of these only I can now remember. He was a young and sinewy figure, black, naked, and gaunt as a wolf; with short stout nose, snub-looking lips, harsh curly hair, and a turbulent glaring eye. He appeared to take a warm interest in the debate against us, and was, I believe, one of the nearest of the hundred cousins of the Sheikh. When order could be obtained, which was even more difficult than in an Irish court of justice or a French Chamber of Deputies, and the rude clamours of our neighbours had been hushed by the Sheikh into a sort of under-growl, the court was opened in proper form, and the interrogatory commenced. Mersheb anticipated the queries, and with a canting and supplicating tone, and a ubi lapsus quid feci physiognomy, turned round to Nicole, and asked "What, in the name of Allah, the Beys wanted?"

"Where are the camels?" replied the whole Court together-" where are the camels?"

"The camels!-why, the camels are resting themselves, as you are, and will be ready, if necessary, before you are; but, with the permission of the Beys, we cannot proceed to Palmyra this evening."

"And why not?" interrogated the Court.

"The heat,” replied Mersheb.

"And what is the heat to us? We have delayed too long in this country -the summer is upon us—we cannot spare a day to rest.”

"But the journey is dangerous; our way is environed with perils." "How dangerous?-What perils? Are you not bound, by your agreement before the Mouzzelim, to protect us? Has not your Sheikh Douaki promised us protection? Did you not report his answer to our letter at Homs? All this should have been mentioned before, and we would have found other protectors, and better means to guard us against these dangers." "We knew nothing of them, nothing more than yourselves." "And when did you first hear of their existence?"

"This very morning, from the Sheikh."

"And what have you heard which makes it dangerous to proceed?" Here there was some whispering between Mersheb, the Sheikh, and the sheepskin friend; at last, on the question being repeated, he replied— "We heard this morning that there were thirty camels abroad, doublemounted, between this and Tedmor."

"Well?" said the Court.

"Well! we cannot meet them as we are and as you are, that is all: You are not armed, nor are we armed. You must take an additional force," said Mersheb.

"I am ready to go," said his friend in the sheep skin, with great energy; but turning round to Nicole in a low whisper, "it is a great venture, and I had much rather turn back to Homs."

Well-what force will be requisite?"

As many as possible-as many as are willing to go."

"And then?"

"Then-you must pay them so much per head-fifty piastres at the least." "What, after the six hundred piastres we have paid the Chief for protection, to pay you over again a still larger sum for yours? Never! we will first denounce you to Douaki!”

Well then, what will you give?"

"Nothing. We have no money: we have no arms; we have nothing. Examine us-we have left every thing at Homs."

"Yes-but you can leave one of your party as a hostage, and send us the money back."

Nicole was here appealed to by Mersheb, and declared himself willing, if necessary, to stay.

"Not by any means," we replied; " neither one of us, nor one of you. Do you think we regard your safety so lightly as to leave you amongst these traitors ?"

This refusal produced a new scene of confusion. The interrogatory was for some minutes suspended by the Sheikh. He addressed himself to Mersheb with great vehemence; and the Governor's soldier, not much liking this den of lions, very timidly interfered.

When resumed, the conversation was scarcely more satisfactory; they could not be persuaded of the sincerity of our assertions. Accustomed to every act of duplicity amongst themselves, they tried every species of ingenious cross-examination to elicit or extort from us the confession of concealed money. They invited us to Bagdad; repeated their denunciations of imminent dangers; magnified the difficulties in which we were placed; alternately suggested to us Homs and Tedmor, and in an unguarded moment, as they supposed, offered us large quantities of dates for purchase. These stratagems failing, they recurred to another expedient. An Arab suddenly entered the tent, and informed the Sheikh that the son of Douaki was to arrive towards evening. The Sheikh immediately seized the hint, and urged it as an additional and imperative motive for delay. We expostulated; we menaced; we entreated; we observed that our engagement in all its parts had been fully arranged, and on our parts most punctually fulfilled with the father, and did not require the intervention or sanction of the son. To this the Sheikh coolly replied that "we might think on these matters as we liked, but that we must and should see him. He was the son of their chief, and it was a compliment due to the tribe." The evening in the mean time advanced; no Sheikh, and no young Douaki arrived; and the disappointment, we remarked, was borne with the utmost composure. We did not, however, in the least relax our exertions: the dialogue continued. The stout, dark young savage, already noticed, stood constantly by our side; sometimes turning his fierce black eyes directly upon us, and then bursting out into broken and violent communications with the Sheikh. Mersheb sate beside him, with his legs squatted immediately under him, and both his lean hands supporting his bushy chin; his grey beard, and treacherous cat-like tranquillity contrasted strongly with the thick-set hair and tumultuous explosions of the Arab. The soldier seemed suffering under every kind of bad auguries, and not less from the privation of his pipe; he eyed despondingly the last spark of his tobacco, as he shook it out, with a sigh of Allah! and remained sad and silent, except when Nicole now and then, by our wishes, goaded him into a reply. The Sheikh had altogether lost his urbanity and temper, and rolled out his invectives and threats, mingled up now and then with sneers and promises, in a manner which edified the entire tent. "Who are these strangers?" said a figure, suddenly peeping over his shoulder, whom we had not yet noticed-" we know them not."

"They are Inglis," answered the soldier, rousing from his sleep.-"They are Beys," said Nicole and Mersheb.

“Inglis!—Beys!—and who are the Inglis?"

"A nation powerful and strong, from the North," replied the soldier, with something like an affectation of importance, and wishing to impress on his auditors an adequate idea of the dignity of his charge.

"And yet we know them not," replied his questioner with a sneer.

They are Franji," said a second.

"No," says a third, "they are Babylonians.-They crossed our tribe last year by Bagdad, and refused or neglected to pay us tribute. By Allah! they owe it to us still!"

The conversation for a moment paused-the hint was ominous; we were apprehensive of the commentary: the eyes of all were fixed upon us—we remained silent.

"What," says another voice," do they do here, or indeed at Tedmor ?" "They come, says Nicole," to see the country."

"No, no, they come for treasure, for treasure deep hidden in the earth, and there is much of it at Tedmor. Do you think we do not know these things? This very morning we saw them looking for it here-even here round our tents. One of them," pointing to our party, "had a magical instrument to his eye, by which he was enabled to look downwards into the very entrails of the earth. You may be learned, and you may be cunning, but you must not think to deceive us in this manner."

*

This conjecture produced a momentary smile: but it soon faded away from our countenances. Our situation, we easily perceived, was every moment becoming more critical, the evening was fast approaching: there was no time for hesitation; we called on the soldier, and, in the strongest tone we could with prudence assume, urged, through him, the necessity of coming to some immediate decision. Besides the wish to avoid a night in such a camp, and surrounded with such friends, I confess I felt a more exclusively personal interest in expediting these arrangements. I felt the feverish symptoms augmenting, slow head-ache, and rheumatic and bilious pains, to such a degree that I doubted much the practicability of continuing the journey; and though one of my friends, with a kindness which I shall not easily forget, professed his readiness, in any case, to accompany me, I would have suffered a great deal rather than avail myself of such a sacrifice, or consented to have deprived him, together with myself, of all prospect of seeing Tedmor. After several minutes consultation amongst themselves, their decree was pronounced, and the conference broken up: they refused, as was I believe their intention from the outset, to accompany us to Tedmor, and required us immediately to mount our camels for Homs. We sprang with alacrity from our disagreeable posture, for all this time we had been lying amongst their bags, provisions, and every other disagreeable accompaniment, with scarcely room to turn round in; our camels were harnessed instantly, a strong countermovement had been given by the Sheikh : its execution was pressed with proportionate activity. It was now about sunset: the Desert shone like a great sea: the mists were light, the breeze refreshing, the night promised to be fine; the word was given, "Let us be off." We looked once more towards Palmyra with regret, and then sprang out into a long trot across the immensity of the Desert.

(To be continued.)

* An eyeglass.

THE LYRE'S COMPLAINT.

"A large lyre hung in an opening of the rock, and gave its melancholy music to the wind. But no human being was to be seen."-Salathiel.

A DEEP-TONED lyre hung murmuring

To the wild wind of the sea;—
"O melancholy wind," it sigh'd,
"What would thy breath with me?
"Thou canst not wake the spirit
That in me slumbering lies;
Thou strik'st not forth th' electric fire
Of buried melodies.

"Wind of the lone dark waters!
Thou dost but sweep my strings
Into wild gusts of mournfulness
With the rushing of thy wings.
"But the gift, the spell, the lightning,
Within my frame conceal'd-
Must I moulder on the rock away,
With their triumphs unreveal'd?

"I have power, high power, for Freedom
To wake the burning soul;

I have sounds that through the ancient hills
Like a torrent's voice might roll:

"I have pealing notes of Victory,

That might welcome kings from war;
I have rich deep tones to send the wail
For a Hero's death afar:

"I have chords to lift the Paan
From the Temple to the sky,
Full as the forest-unisons,

When sweeping winds are high.

"And Love-for Love's lone sorrow

I have music that might swell
Through the summer-air with the rose's breath,
Or the violet's faint farewell.

"Soft-spiritual-mournful

Sighs in each note enshrined;-
But who shall call that sweetness forth?
Thou canst not, Ocean-wind!

"No kindling heart gives echoes
To the passion of my strain;
I perish with my wasted gifts,
Vain is that dower-all vain!
"I pass without my glory,
Forgotten I decay-

Where is the touch to give me life?
-Wild fitful wind, away!"

So sigh'd the broken music,

That in gladness had no part ;-
-How like art thou, neglected lyre!
To many a human heart!

Sept.-VOL. XXIII. NO. XCIII.

R

F. H.

ENGLISH RESIDENTS ABROAD.

"If they be grieved, let their toad-swoln galls burst in sunder for me with puffing choler; let them turn the buckle of their dudgeon anger behind, lest the tongue of it catch their own dottrel skins. I weigh them not a niffle."-STUBBES.

I AM One of the class of English residents abroad, and if a fair field and no favour be still in vogue in the land of our birth, I should wish to be allowed a little space in the columns of the "New Monthly," for replying to a formal attack upon our whole fraternity in the last Number of the "Quarterly Review." The writer modestly assumes merit to himself for using the mild tone of reprimand or dehortation, when he might have successfully visited us with the light shafts of ridicule, or the heavier weapons of contumelious reproach; and I for one, judging by what he has said, can easily forgive him for all that he has forborne from urging, being equally disposed" to scorn his smiles, and treat with smiles his scorning." He is manifestly angry, but he wishes us no farther harm than to leave us to the consequences of our own errors, which, in his estimate, are of no mean magnitude, and not likely, therefore, to be of trifling calamity in their results. He is as merciful as my Lord Herbert of Cherbury; who, in the praise of his own tenderness, observes with an amusing naiveté, “ I never used revenge, as leaving it always to God, who the less I punish mine enemies, will inflict so much the more punishment on them." For a Christian charity of this nature it becomes us to be thankful! Infinite pains are taken by the writer, who castigates his countrymen, to make careful reservations-he excepts some of the absent, not the present company, since noblemen, and the friends of Government, and the staunch opposers of all reform and innovation, might at the very moment of his writing, be enrolled among the offenders; it is admitted, however, that the great mass of the permanent dwellers upon the Continent are respectable families of the middling classes of life, driven from England by the pressure of taxation and high prices upon their narrow incomes, or by their desire to give a cheaper education to their children than they can obtain at home. These motives may be thought by some to be rather praiseworthy than culpable, but even allowing them to afford no defence for expatriation, the culprits could never have expected arraignment from the quarter whence their present censurer has started. What! is he not of that ultra-loyal party, the Church and King men par excellence, who, during the war, were accustomed at Pitt Club dinners, and other festive meetings of the friends of good government and social order, to shout out with triumphant glee and three vociferous huzzas, the established toast of "The land we live in, and may those who don't like it leave it!" Is he not one of those who chuckled at Windham's sneer against economy, when he stigmatised it as a pitiful saving of " cheeseparings and candle-ends,"-has he not been always provided with jibe, sarcasm, or abuse, for those who advocated retrenchment, vilipending them as grumblers and radicals-was he not more clamorous than a parrot against rain in railing at those who deprecated profusion and wastefulness, and predicted their results-can he deny his participancy with the men who pamper the aristocracy and the landholders, at the expense of the less thriving classes, by keeping up bread at a high and artificial price; and is he not at this very moment one of those who