in the case of the late Lord Primate, whose great wealth enabled him to surpass every one in princely munificence. The Archbishop of Dublin's income consisted almost entirely of the revenues of his diocese, and it may be truly said that, according to his means, his bounty was unparalleled, and that in his character he presented the rare combinations of great intellectual power, profound learning, and extraordinary public spirit, with an extremely kind and sympathetic heart. His generosity, however, was not impulsive, but well regulated and discriminating. He once boasted in the House of Lords that there was one thing with which he could not reproach himself, he had never relieved a mendicant in the streets. He took care so to administer relief as not to encourage idleness and vice. When he cribed the changes which led to the retirement of the Archbishop of Dublin and two other members of the Board, the late Baron Greene and Mr. Blackbure, now Lord Chief Justice of Appeal. This contest between Archbishop Whately and the Roman Catholic party did much to conciliate the evangelical clergy, and raised him much higher in the estimation of the Protestants of Ireland generally. From that time a better understanding and a more cordial state of feeling existed between him and the majority of the clergy of his own diocese. These amicable relations were strengthened by the zeal and activity of Mrs. Whately and her daughters in establishing and conducting ragged schools and supporting the Irish Church Mission to Roman Catholics. The Archbishop took no part in these proselytizing movements, though he looked kind-gave away considerable sums of money to ly on the efforts of those who were engaged in them. There never was a more disinterested prelate, or one more munificent, according to his means, than the late Archbishop. He had but one son. He is a clergyman of many years' standing and superior ability, and yet all that his father did for him was to give him the small parish of St. Werburgh, in Dublin, worth only £300 or £400 a year. This self-denial contrasts favorably with the excessive nepotism of some of the most evangelical and pious of our bishops, who have given the best livings in their diocese to their young sons and sons-in-law and nephews, while able and excellent men, who had grown up gray in the service of the church, were left to drag out the remnant of their existence on their miserable stipends as curates. The liberality of Archbishop Whately in assisting the destitute families of clergymen and others, especially during the tithe war and the famine years, was unexampled in Ireland, except relieve deserving persons in temporary difficulties, he was accustomed to get them to sign a document promising to repay the amount whenever they were able to persons similarly circumstanced. Among the monuments of his liberality, which he has left behind him, is the Whately Professorship of Political Economy, which he endowed in the Dublin University. His grace was fifty-ninth Archbishop of Dublin, and fifty-fifth Bishop of Glendalough, and succeeded as eighty-ninth Bishop of Kildare in 1846, (that see having been prospectively united to Dublin under the Church Temporalities Act,) on the death of Dr. Charles Lindsay. He was Visitor of Trinity College, Dublin; Prebendary ex officio of Cullen in St. Patrick's Cathedral; VicePresident of the Royal Irish Academy, and Chancellor of the Order of St. Patrick. Mrs. Whately, wife of his grace, died on the twenty-fifth of April, 1860.-Exami ner, Oct. 10. ABDUL AZIZ, SULTAN OF TURKEY. BY THE EDITOR, Ir falls to the lot of few men in any age or country to become kings, potentates, or emperors, invested with supreme power, sitting upon thrones and wearing the crowns of empire. Such high imperial personages are generally the objects of interest and observation in person and character. Among this number, thus filling an exalted station, is the present ruler of Turkey, Abdul Aziz, Sultan of the Ottoman Empire, whose fine portrait will be found as an embellishment at the head of the present number of THE ECLECTIC. The general appearance of the portrait, his grave aspect, and the expression of his countenance indicate the conscious dignity of his high station. The portrait has just been admirably engraved by Mr. George E. Perine from a recent photograph received from Constantinople, and is believed to be a very accurate likeness. The imperial lineage of Abdul Aziz runs far back into by-gone ages. The throne of the Ottoman empire has been occupied with a long line of sultans of greater or less renown. The history of this empire fills many pages in the annals of the past. A venerable antiquity rests upon it. It is among the old empires of the world, and like many others in former centuries it is tending to decay, and long ago began its funeral march to the grand graveyard and mausoleum of buried empires. The governments of Continental Europe have long been watching the progress of decay and disintegration of this once colossal empire. For more than half a century the Russian Bear has looked with longing eyes, fierce appetite, and extended paws to seize its full share of the spoils in all the regions around the Dardanelles. The French Eagle, soaring aloft in imperial flight, has also long been looking down with its eagle eyes and mighty talons outspread ready for the descent. The British Lion also has long kept an eye in that direction, and now and then roars around the shores of the Mediterranean to indicate his presence to those other beasts of prey, and his deep commercial interest in the matter, lest his pathway up the Nile and across the isthmus should be closed. The Crimean War was but a fierce fight in advance for the expected spoils of the decaying empire. But the time is not yet. The powers of Western Europe like skillful physicians have combined to guarantee awhile longer the integrity of the Ottoman empire, and keep in motion the vital currents in the body politic for unknown years to come. It is too long a journey to travel back to remote ages and follow down along the stream of centuries till the present time the origin and history of the great family of Turks over which Abdul Aziz is now the ruler and sovereign. And yet it is this high antiquity of the Turkish race which imparts an added interest to the portrait and its original. The career of the Turks is marvelous. We have only room for the briefest outline. Five centuries before the Christian era the Turks were nomad dwellers upon the northern slopes of the Altai range and along the valleys of the Tang-nu mountains, between the Irtish and Yenisei rivers, on the confines of Siberia and China. In the second century before the Christian era the empire of the Turks extended from the Sea of Japan to the Volga, and embraced the whole of Central Asia and a considerable portion of Siberia. They intermarried with the imperial family of China and held the Chinese nation as vassals. Pliny alludes to them under the name of Turca. Some of their tribes penetrated into the mountainous regions of Asia Minor in the early ages of the Christian era. In 569 they formed an alliance with Justin II., then Emperor of Constantinople. For several centuries onward, to 744, there were eight distinct Turkish tribes or nations in Central Asia. But the invasion of Genghis Khan, so great were the changes and revolutions, overthrew the last remains of the Turkish empire in Asia. But the Turks in the sixth and seventh centuries were in possession of extensive regions in what is now Asiatic ulemas and mollans, in robes of green, violet, or gray, richly embroidered with gold, and with white or green turbans with broad gold bands encircling them. Then the sons-in-law of the late sovereign, blazing with gold and jewels; the ministers, with large stars on the front of the fez; the Sheikh-ul-Islam, in robe of white and gold, and the grand vizier. Turkey. In the ninth and tenth centuries the reigning dynasties in Egypt were Turks. In the eleventh century the Turkish dynasty held sway from the frontiers of China to the vicinity of Constantinople. The Turkish empire in Europe dates from the overthrow of the Byzantine empire in the fifteenth century. In 1451 Amurath II. was succeeded by Mohammed II., who in 1453 took Constantinople, For a moment there was a break in the and established the Osmanli throne on the procession. Then came six more led ruins of the palace of the Roman emperors. horses, with stirrups of gold and saddle. On this throne thus established now sits cloths sparkling with diamonds, followed Abdul Aziz, the successor of a long line of by a large body of officers on foot, walking sultans and sovereigns who have during in parallel lines, on each side of the road, the intervening centuries wielded the and leaving an open space in which soon scepter of the Ottoman empire. We need appeared about forty or more pages in not enumerate them. Among the more crimson velvet and gold, with large plumes recent sultans was Selim III., who reigned in their caps, and glittering halberds in from 1789 to 1807. He was then deposed their hands. In the midst of this gor in consequence of the reforms he had intro-geous pageant rode the sultan himself, duced. Mustapha IV. was sultan for only one year, when in 1808 he was succeeded by Mahmoud II., at whose death in 1839, Abdul Medjid succeeded, then but sixteen years of age, who ascended the throne, which he continued to occupy till his death, June 25th, 1861, when by the laws of the empire, Abdul Aziz, the original of our portrait and brother of the late sultan, ascended the throne of the Otto-viduals, who made a rush for the newman empire. Abdul Aziz was born February 9th, 1830, at Constantinople, and is therefore thirty-three years old. Up to the time of his brother's death, (Abdul Medjid,) Abdul Aziz remained a stranger to public affairs, and he was seldom seen in public. In his education he was under the instruction of a French professor, and is well versed in the language, literature, laws, and manners of France. Abdul Aziz was crowned Sultan of Turkey July 4th, 1861. The coronation ceremony of "girding on the sword of Othman" was performed in the Mosque Eyoub, amid great rejoicings. The cele brated warrior and standard bearer of the Prophet, Nakoub Eshref, performed the ceremony within the tomb of Eyoub, or Job. As soon as the ceremony was over, Abdul Aziz returned from the tomb into the mosque and recited his prayers. Immediately after this the grand procession was formed. At the head of it came eight led horses, richly caparisoned, followed by the generals and colonels of the army, and the civil officers, all on proud and prancing chargers. Next came the chief wearing the rich and gaceful imperial cloak of his predecessors, with its diamond clasp, (see the cloak and clasp in the engraving,) the plume and diamond aigrette in his fez, and the jeweled sword by his side. The chamberlains, secretaries, and other officers of the palace, with a troop of cavalry, and a mob of wild-looking indi coined money that was thrown by handfuls among them, closed the procession. The sultan was every where greeted by the crowd with half- audible prayers and blessings, and hopes for an energetic reign. "May his sword cut sharp!" said one who stood near. "Amin!" was the hearty response from all. On reaching the mausoleum of Mahmoud II., the sultan dismounted and prayed at the tomb of his father; he then returned to the palace of Top Capou, where he received the homage and congratulations of his officers, and at five o'clock, amid salvos of artillery and loud huzzas, he returned by caique to the palace. His majesty is a vigorous-looking man of thirty-three years, somewhat portly, and with the proud bearing of his father. He has already shown something of the energy of Mahmoud in the sweeping work he has made in his brother's palace. Thirty-five thousand pounds of silver were at once sent to the mint to be coined into money; four hundred horses from the royal stables were attached to the cavalry service, and myriads of useless servants forced into the army. The sultanas and other women of the palace, to the number of one thousand, were shut up in the seraglio. They were obliged to surrender all their jewels, and prohibited from visiting Pera or the other suburbs of the city without special royal permits. The sonsin-law of the late monarch have been told that they must admit the sultanas who are mothers of their wives into their own harems, so that the royal expenses will be greatly curtailed in this respect. The Valide Sultana, the mother of the two sons of Abdul Medjid, has alone a palace assigned to her, and a pension of fifty thousand piasters a month. The sultan himself has or had but one wife, and has signified his intention to have but one. His only son, a child of four years, who was saved by the fidelity of his nurse from the usual fate of royal infants, he has, since his accession to the throne, brought from its retreat and acknowledged publicly before his nobles. Some pretend that Abdul Aziz shares all the prejudices, all the resentments of the old Turks, and that his policy will be antiChristian and anti-European. Others say that these assertions are entirely false. " Abdul Aziz appears energetic, and forms a striking contrast to the lazy habits of his elder brother." The same persons add that he has only one wife, of Circassian origin. He is busily engaged in agricultural improvements thing in Turkey. a rare A FEW From the St. James's Magazine. INTERVIEWS WITH SNAKES. BY CAPTAIN DRAYSON, R.A. Ir is rare indeed to find any person who has not an instinctive horror of snakes. I have, however, known one or two people who could make pets of these creeping creatures, which they would allow to crawl over them, and to nestle their cold, clammy coils against their hands, or even neck. These people, however, were invariably those who themselves possessed a sort of moist, clammy skin, not unlike that of the serpent tribe, and thus possibly there was some fellow - feeling between the two. For my own part, I have a great antipathy to all sorts of snakes, lizards, and other reptiles, and when brought into proximity with them, a strange creeping feeling commences at the pit of my stomach, and gradually steals upwards and downwards, until the ends of my toes and fingers, and the crown of my head, sympathize strongly with the first-mentioned region. Possessing this idiosyncrasy, which I believe is not a very singular one, I may consider it unlucky that I should have been brought so frequently and closely into contact with varieties of the serpent race; yet such has been my fate, as the following facts will show. I had arrived at the full-blown dignity of jackets and trowsers before I made the acquaintance of a real live snake. The interview occurred in the county of Sussex. It was on a very warm summer's day that I was walking across a meadow, when my attention was called to a moving object in the newly-cut grass about two two yards in front of me. Armed with a stick, I carefully approached the spot, and instantly saw a snake fully three feet long. Without waiting to consider the consequences, I killed it, although it was merely a harmless reptile, and a destroyer of nothing larger than frogs or toads. Still, in consequence of being alone, and this being the first live snake that I had seen, the circumstances are as vividly present to my imagination as are those which afterwards occurred during encounters with monsters twenty feet in length. Whilst residing in various parts of Sussex and Hampshire I very frequently encountered snakes, adders, and that harmless reptile-yet one so dreaded by the ignorant country people-viz.: the blindworm or deaf adder. A sight of the dark chain of spots, the distinctive characteristic of the poisonous adder, was invariably followed by endeavors to destroy the venomous reptile; whilst the yellowish or mackerel-like back of the common snake, when seen, would not call so prominently into action the organ of destructiveness. Something like a dozen adders were destroyed by me during a period of six months in Hampshire alone. "Pas op! Pas op !" (take care! take care!) was the shout that announced to me the dangerous proximity of some creature whilst I was walking along a narrow pathway near the Berea bush at Natal. My companion, a Dutchman, had observed on the sloping trunk of a dead tree a large snake, which, seeing us approach, uncoiled itself, and was preparing to descend from its elevated position. It was really a very beautiful creature, of a pale green color, about eight feet long, and not very stout. My experienced friend announced that it was a "tree snake," perfectly harmless, except to small birds, lizards, and such like, which it could catch and destroy. It was allowed to escape. Not so was the creature near which I shortly after found myself. Hunting in the dense bush which extends up the greater part of the shore on the eastern coast of South Africa, I, with my Kaffir companion, oppressed by the heat, seated ourselves on the ground in a little open glade. Scarcely had we sat down a minute, and before the little circular snuff gourd had yielded any portion of its contents into the hollow on the up |