there, having handsomely requested us to make his house our home during our stay at Cairo, we proceeded thither. It is in a very retired situation, the approach being through narrow streets and passages. It was now the month of August; and though the weather was very sultry, I did not in general find the heat oppressive, except when walking out at midday. The purity and charm of the mornings and evenings in this splendid climate are very great: a cloud is scarcely to be seen in the sky; or, when visible, it is of the most transparent whiteness.

In Cairo you seek in vain to realise the magnificent descriptions of the Oriental writers; but it is not fair to form a judgment of its ancient glory from its present appearance. The immense hills of rubbish on all sides of the city, which have been accumulating for ages, and which are still increased by what is brought out from Cairo daily on the backs of mules, prove the superior magnitude of the old city. But with regard to the general mass of the buildings, the modern capital is perhaps as splendid as the famous "Masr" of old: the palaces of the caliphs, and some other public buildings, might have beautified it, but most of the streets in Cairo have an extremely antique appearance, and present in architecture and materials, no doubt, a picture of what it was formerly. In extent it is very inferior to Constantinople, and contains about two hundred and fifty thousand inhabitants. But much of the former is taken up with gardens, whereas Cairo is almost destitute of those elegances. The houses are built of brick of a dirty colour, and are more lofty, and the streets are wider, than those of the capital of Turkey. The windows of lattice or frame-work of wood often project a couple of feet beyond the wall, and admit the view of what is passing without, and are at the same time screened from observation: here the inhabitants love to sit. The interior of the houses, from their construction and the position of the windows, has scarcely any sun,-coolness and shade being studied as much as possible. The streets are unpaved, but hard; and to allay the dust and keep them cool, the inhabitants throw water over them. Camels, loaded with skins of water, are almost continually driven through them, and the water flows out on the path as they go along. A traveller is soon convinced that the Orientals judge rightly in building their capitals with such narrow streets; it is quite a luxury in this climate to enter one. The height of the houses, and the projection of the upper stories, keep them always cool and shaded, and the burning sun is excluded. This city is chiefly supplied with water from the Nile, in the conveyance of which to the different dwellings a vast number of camels are daily employed. The houses have all terraced roofs, and that of the Consul's commands an extensive view of the city. It is delightful to rise by night and walk there in the brilliant moonlight, which has the appearance of a tranquil and beautiful day: you can see to read with perfect ease. From thence you can look all around on the terraces of other dwellings, on which numbers of the inhabitants lie buried in sleep. During the greater part of the night you hear no sound in this wide capital, not even the tread of a passing traveller or houseless Arab; nothing disturbs the impressive tranquillity of the hour, which strikes on the imagination. The lonely palm-trees, scattered at intervals around, and rising high above the houses, are the only objects which break the view. The habits of life of the Europeans resident at Cairo are very regular: you find individuals of Spain,

France, Italy, Germany, &c., many of whom live in good style, and give handsome entertainments occasionally. One cannot find the comforts of an English breakfast at Cairo: a cup of coffee and a piece of bread are ready at an early hour for whoever chooses; at midday comes a luxurious dinner, of foreign cookery, with the wines of Europe and fruits of the East; and seven in the evening introduces supper,-another substantial meal, though rather less profuse than the dinner; and by ten o'clock most of the family retire. This is not the way of living best adapted to the climate, which seems to require only a slight refreshment during the sultry hours, and the solid meal to be reserved till the cool of the day. There is no good market to be found at Cairo; excellent mutton is always to be had, but other meats are difficult to be procured; of wine there is none save what is imported, and this is very dear, and not of good quality. The oranges and bananas of Rosetta, which are brought to Cairo, the fresh figs, almonds, and other nuts, and pomegranates, afford an excellent dessert. A singular luxury in this city, as well as in every other in the East, is the Caimac, or clouted cream, exactly the same as that made in Devonshire and Cornwall, and manufactured in the same manner. It is cried about the streets, fresh every morning, and is sold on small plates; and in a place where butter is never seen, it is a rich and welcome substitute. Many European ladies of different nations reside at Cairo, being married to Frank merchants : some of these are very agreeable women, and appear contented and happy with their situation. It is curious that you meet with women of every civilized land settled in the Eastern cities, save those of England. Scarcely ever will you find one of our own countrywomen living in climates and among customs so different from her own, though most of the English merchants are unmarried from this very reason. The want of

the spirit of enterprise and the over-attachment to their own comforts are probably the causes which keep our ladies at home, or would make them unhappy abroad. I knew two who were settled in the East, but they were always complaining, and mourning after England.

We ar

The 16th of August was the day fixed on for the celebrated cutting of the bank of the Nile; a time of great rejoicing with the Egyptians, the inundation being now at its height. It is the custom for a vast number of people of different nations to assemble and pass the night near the appointed spot. We resolved to go and mingle among them, not doubting that something highly interesting would occur. rived at the place about eight at night, it being distant a few miles from the city there was firing of cannon, illuminations in their way, and exhibitions of fireworks. The shores of the Nile for a long way down from Boulac were covered with groups of people, some seated beneath the large-spreading sycamores, smoking; others gathered around parties of Arabs, who were dancing with infinite gaiety and pleasure, and uttering loud exclamations of joy, affording an amusing contrast to the passionless demeanour and tranquil features of their Moslem oppressors. After some time, we crossed to the opposite shore: the scene was here much more interesting; ranks of people were closely seated on the shelving banks of the Nile, and behind them was a long line of persons selling various articles of fruit and eatables. A little to the left, amidst widely scattered groups of trees, stood several tents, and temporary coffee-houses, canopied over, and lighted with lamps. Perpetually

moving over this scene, which, both shores and river, and groups of palms, was illumined by the most brilliant moonlight, were seen Albanian soldiers in their national costume, Nubians from the burning clime of farther Egypt, Mamelukes, Arabs, and Turks. At a number of small sheds, each of which had its light, or small fire, you might have meat, fish, &c. ready dressed. We entered one of the coffee-houses, or large tents, to the top of which a row of lamps was suspended; and, being open in front, we could sip the refreshing beverage, and still enjoy the animated spectacle around. Being much fatigued, I wrapped my cloak round me, and slept for a couple of hours upon a rush-mat on the floor, so soundly as to hear nothing of a loud and desperate quarrel between some Arabs and Albanians in the same tent; but there was little cause for uneasiness in any situation, while my faithful Michelle was near; he knew so well the manners of these people, and possessed such perfect presence of mind. The night was wearing fast away, and, leaving the tent, we again joined the various parties in the shade or on the shore; some feasting and dancing, others buried in sleep. The other side of the beautiful river, which shone like glass in the splendid light, still presented a gay appearance; lights moving to and fro amidst the trees, boats pushing off with new comers, and sounds of gaiety, with the firing of musquetry being still heard.

At last day broke, and soon after the report of a cannon announced that the event so ardently wished for was at hand. We proceeded to the spot, around which immense crowds were rapidly gathering. The high and shelving banks of the canal, into which the Nile was to be admitted, were crowded with spectators. We obtained an excellent situation for observing the ceremony, by fortunately meeting with Osmin, a Scotch renegade, but a highly respectable man, and the confidential servant of Mr. Salt. The Kiaya Bey, the chief minister of the Pacha, soon arrived with his guards, and took his seat on the summit of the opposite bank. A number of Arabs now began to dig down the dyke which confined the Nile, the bosom of which was covered with a number of pleasure-boats, full of people, waiting to sail down the canal through the city. Already the mound was only partly demolished, when the increasing dampness and shaking of the earth induced the workmen to leave off. Several Arabs then plunged into the stream, and, exerting all their strength to push down the remaining part, some openings were soon made, and the river broke through with irresistible violence. For some time it was like the rushing of a cataract. According to custom, the Kiaya Bey distributed a good sum of money, throwing it into the bed of the canal below, where a great many men and boys scrambled for it. Several of them had a sort of net, fastened on the top of a pole, to catch the money as it fell. It was an amusing scene, as the water gathered fast round them, to see them struggling and groping amidst the waves for the coin; but the violence of the torrent soon bore them away; and there were some who had lingered to the last, and now sought to save themselves by swimming, still buffeting the waves and grasping at the money showered down, and diving after it as it disappeared. Unfortunately this sport every year costs a few lives, and one young man was drowned this morning. The different vessels, long ere the fall had subsided, rushed into the canal and entered the city, their decks crowded with all ranks, uttering loud exclamations

of joy. The overflowing of the Nile is the richest blessing of heaven to the Egyptians as it finds its way gradually into the various parts of the city and neighbourhood, the inhabitants crowd to drink of, and wash in it, and rejoice in its progress. The vast square, called the Birket, which on our arrival presented a sad and dreary area, was now turned into a novel and beautiful scene, being covered with an expanse of water, out of the bosom of which arose the fine sycamore trees. On one side of this square is a palace of the Pacha; on the opposite side is the Coptic quarter :-the palace of the chief of the Mamelukes, of a poor appearance, with some houses, fortifications, and ruins, form the rest of this square. In walking round the city, and observing so many flat and naked parts, destitute of verdure, and encompassed with piles of ruins, one can hardly conceive how the waters can ever reach them; but every day, after the cutting of the bank, it is interesting to see how silently and irresistibly space after space is changed from a dreary, useless desert, into a smiling bed of water, which brings health and abundance with it. The sounds of joy and festivity, of music and songs, are now heard all over the city, with cries of " Allah, Allah," and thanks to the Divine bounty for so inestimable a blessing.

THE SACRIFICE OF IPHIGENIA.

Λιτὰς δὲ καὶ κληδόνας πατρώους

Παρ' οὐδὲν, αἰῶνα παρθένειόν τ',

Ἔθεντο φιλόμαχοι βραβεῖς.—Eschyl.

THE Prophet spoke; the Father heard,
And shudder'd at each awful word
Which, utter'd by that white-robed seer,
Smote deeply on his startled ear:
-“And is it thus," he wildly cried,
"And may no blood save thine be shed,
My daughter? Thou, my earliest pride,
The sunbeam of my wintry years,
On whom I rested hopes and fears,
Shalt thou be number'd with the dead?
Thine 'twere a meeter task to fling
Fresh flowerets o'er my pictured urn,
And bearing first-fruits of the spring,
And bidding Argive maidens mourn,
To soothe, with rites all duly paid,
Thy father's solitary shade,
Than thus, in virgin beauty given

A spotless victim to the skies,

Thy soul should seek its native heaven,
A sinful sire's atoning sacrifice.

Yet, as I gaze, and gazing weep,

The north wind's wrath is heard on high
The breaker sounds along the deep,

The storm is brooding in the sky;
And here a thousand sails are set,
All idly to the opposing blast;
And here, in fruitless council met,
We ponder upon injuries past,
And muttering curses to the main,*
And vows of vengeance made in vain,

Still linger. O'er the troublous sea
The ocean-spirit summons thee,
And voices mingling with the wave
Have doom'd thee to a fearful grave.
-And wouldst thou bid thy father's name
Be branded with a traitor's shame?-
Shall after-time to mockery give
The sire, who chose his child to live,
Rather than, leading to the fight
A Grecian people's warrior might,
With snow-white crests all proudly glancing
Where Hellespont's blue waves are dancing,
On perjured Troy's devoted shore
A dreadful retribution pour !"-

He ceased, and in his half-closed eye
Flash'd forth unutter'd agony;

And thoughts of death were blended there,
And inward workings of despair,

And memories of the past, that stole

In tumult o'er his shuddering soul.

But of the darkness of his lot

All other outward sign was none; He stood, as though he trembled not For her, his best-beloved one.

He gave the word: the priests obey'd;
The victim on the shrine was laid,
And, shrouded in her saffron vest,
She meekly bowed to meet her doom.
No power withstood the Chief's behest,
To snatch her from an early tomb.
Mute, like a form of stone, she seem'd,
Save that, as on the King it beam'd,
Within her blue eye's tremulous gaze
Some feeling yet survived, which spoke
Remembrance of those happy days,
When in her father's hall she woke
Sweet music's voice, or to the skies
Join'd in the hymn of sacrifice.

That dreadful deed was wrought at last-
The wild waves knew the changing blast;
A thousand oars prepared to sweep
The freshening seas, a thousand sails
Quiver'd upon the western gales-
The stormy Pæan rung along the deep.
"Away, away, the rites are paid,

And vengeance, which hath long delay'd,
With heavier, surer, deadlier blow
Shall lay the lordly city low:
Away-Away-" But he, their chief,

Nor heard those sounds, nor long'd to hear;
He felt a father's deadening grief;*

His daughter's groans were on his ear :-
And, oh! through many a distant year,

'Mid festive shout, or battle's din,

The quenchless memory burn'd within
Of her whom, in her purity,

His ruthless voice had doom'd to die.

P.