close to its walls, we took our course down into the deep valley which lies upon its north-eastern side; visiting the place where tradition says the angel, with a multitude of the heavenly host, appeared to the shepherds of Judea, with the glad tidings of our Saviour's nativity; and finally halting in an olive plantation at the bottom of the valley below the convent and the town.' (p. 614.)

Under the walls of Bethlehem they stopped to refresh themselves with a draught of its pure and delicious water,' in reference to which Dr. Clarke gives the following ingenious illustration. David, being a native of Bethlehem, calls to mind during the sultry days of harvest, a well near the gate of the town, of whose delicious water he had often tasted, and expresses an earnest desire to assuage his thirst by drinking of that limpid spring. And David longed and said, Oh! that one would give me drink of the water of the well of Bethlehem, which is by the gate (2 Sam. chap. xxiii.). It will be recollected, that three loyal and mighty men fought their way through the Philistine garrison, procured the draught, and laid it at the feet of their sovereign. It will also be recollected with what noble self-denial he declined the proffered luxury, and how frequently the example has been followed by other celebrated commanders of ancient and modern times. From Bethlehem Dr., Clarke and his friends made their way, with some risk, through hordes of hostile Arabs, to Rama (see Jeremiah xxxi. 15), and thence to Joppa, or Jaffa. The road, and particularly the neighbourhood of the towns, were strewed with dead bodies, victims of the plague, which was raging with great fury in this part of Palestine. From this place they returned by sea to Acre, and the approach to Mount Carmel and the Bay of Acre concludes this part of Dr. Clarke's Travels.

Our next traveller is a French nobleman, M. le Compte de Forbin. He sailed from Toulon 21st of August 1817, on his Travels in Greece and Syria, and arrived in October in sight of the mountains of Syria.

Mount Carmel was the first land he saw; and soon after the vessel entered the small harbour of St. Jean D'Acre. 8000 or 10,000 Turks, Arabs, Jews, and Christians, carry about with them into the polluted streets and bazaars of this place, an air of dark and ferocious melancholy. Even human sense is disagreeably affected, we are told, by objects of deformity, filth, and wretchedness. Beings, that look as if they were risen from tombs, drag themselves along half naked, with a sort of covering of dirty white, streaked with black. At each step one sees by the side of the wretched victims of ophthalmia, the sufferers under the cruelty of the late Djezzar Pacha (the Butcher, as the name signifies) deprived of their eyes, noses, and ears. These miserable creatures rest always abroad, lying under the walls of the seraglio gardens. The present inhabitant of this palace, the successor of the Butcher, seldom stirs out,-' deaf to the cries of a starved population, he passes his life in groves of myrtles which are refreshed by limpid rivulets. His minister, who relieves him entirely from the weight of public business, oc

cupied the same honorable and elevated situation under the Butcher of blessed memory, and in one and the same day had his salary doubled, and his nose and ears cut off, by the commands of his gracious master! This tried servant of the public is described by M. de Forbin, as supple, clever, and incalculably rich. Our author was introduced to the present Pacha, Soliman; he found him squatting in the corner of a sofa, and surrounded by courtiers, who received his permission, when it was thought proper, that they should laugh at the sallies of a favorite buffoon who held a high reputation at court. He examined the traveller's uniform very particularly, and described at great length the excellence of his Arabian horses, smoking as he spoke, and ordering coffee to be brought in for his visitor.

Our author left St. Jean D'Acre with a numerous caravan. Barren hills lie along the coast, ahout a league from the sea, and the intervening space is a white sandy beach. The ruins of Athlit present themselves; it was the last possession held by the crusaders; its port is now filled with sand, its ramparts are fallen, and its fine gardens are stagnant marshes. The khan (inn) of Santoura was found entirely occupied by another caravan: our traveller and his companions lay down in some small cabins, from which toads and centipedes soon drove them. The town of Cæsarea presents a very striking sight; it is entirely deserted, yet, strange to say, stands in a state of perfect preservation. The view of its ramparts, ports, and monuments, excites an undefineable surprise. The streets and the public squares are perfect; nothing would be wanting but gates to its high and frowning battlements to render it susceptible of defence. The walls of the churches are yet black with the smoke of incense; the pulpit, illustrated by learned and courageous bishops, still stands; the graves alone seem to have sustained violence; they are open; and the human bones scattered about give the sole proof that man has once dwelt in the midst of this frightful solitude. The silence that reigns around is only broken by the monotonous noise of the tide, that comes rolling on

dashing over upon the piers and quays of the port, where no step of mariner or merchant ever treads. The ceaseless beating of the waves has here shaken and shifted the stone-work: the wall of the light-house is split, and its staircase and chambers are seen within, mouldering away, though as yet they afford a sanctuary to the seabirds, which have there found an undisturbed habitation. Superb columns are still standing in this town. Next evening the caravan bivouacked under some sycamores, near which there was an abundant well; and young and handsome women! y apportaient, d'un pas majestueux, la cruche de Rachel.' The 15th of November they arrived at Jaffa, where our author was received in a miserable convent of fathers of the Holy Land, who are obliged to perform their rites in a secret vault, and are a prey to constant persecution. From Jaffa be proceeded to Rama, where he found the superior of the religious fraternity, by whom he was received, to be a Spaniard with a thundering voice and an imposing stature. This good monk

did not seem to me at all to like the state of martyrdom to which he was devoted. He gave me a clean chamber, looking out on a terrace shaded by palm-trees.'

From Rama to Jerusalem the road passes for two or three miles over the well-cultivated plains of the ancient Arimathea: afterwards the tra. veller passes by the hills of Latroun into profound valleys, where vegetation becomes rare and feeble; complete barrenness succeeds; and up to Jerusalem one traverses a red and sterile soil. The eye discovers nothing in the distance but the signs of vast natural eruptions and catastrophes; dry beds of torrents; and winding roads covered with sharp flints. To these may be added, to complete the picture, ruined cisterns, at the bottom of which a little stagnant water lies fetid and green, with bare craggy mountains rising around. Such, says our author, is the scenery depicted by Jeremiah; such is the valley of Terebintha; such is the approach, preparing the mind for the awful impression about to be made upon it by the first appearance of Jerusalem.

Jerusalem, observes Chateaubriand, has been taken and sacked seventeen times; millions of men have been massacred within its bosom, and it may almost be said that these massacres still continue: a person who would take lodgings in the town would be daily in danger of his life, observes the author whom we have just mentioned. Great cities, and even whole nations, have been cast down and destroyed:

Great Carthage self in ashes cold doth lie ; Her ruins poor the herbs in height scant pass; So cities fall, so perish kingdoms high; Their pride and hid in sand and grass. pomp are FAIRFAX.

But Jerusalem still exists, still drags on a cadaverous life, to excite horror, while these utterly fallen abodes of past greatness inspire a fine melancholy. She presents the aspect of dreary, and gaunt, and painful disease: they offer the spectacle of calm death.

The sun was on the point of setting when M. de Forbin, from an elevated part of this rough and inconvenient road, caught the first view of this celebrated place. I perceived, in fine, long ramparts, towers, and vast edifices, surrounded by barren and black ground, and rocks that looked as if they had been smitten by thunder. Here and there ruined chapels were to be observed: Mount Sion rose in view; and more distant, the rugged mountains of the Arabian desert.' Our author, with a very just feeling, expresses his indignant contempt for the poor-minded creature, of whatever country or belief, who should regard this lost city in a temper of ironical sceptical malice. Quelles que soient les opinions religieuses, le seul engourdissement de l'esprit pourrait s'opposer à la sensation de surprise et de respect qu' inspire Jerusalem. Tout est silencieux autour de cette ville; tout est muet: le dernier cri de l'HommeDieu semble avoir été le dernier bruit repété par les échos de Siloé et de Gehennon.'

The very day of his arrival afforded him a most interesting spectacle, in a meeting of the

whole Jewish population of Jerusalem, which took place in the valley of Josaphat. The Turkish governor had sold to these poor creatures permission to celebrate the feast of tombs. "At the view of these captives seated in silence on the sepulchral stones of their ancestors, it might have been almost thought that the awful trumpet had made itself heard, that the generations of mankind crowded the borders of Cedron, and that from the bosom of the cloud the words of joy and of sorrow were about to issue.' (p. 85). It is supposed that Jerusalem contains about 25,000 inhabitants. Not more than 200 Christian families reside there. Our author calculates the Jews still remaining in this ancient capital of their people at about 8000 or 9000. Scarcely ought one to call by the name of street, the narrow, filthy, and steep passage which divides the halffallen houses in the quarter of the Hebrews. Squalid and diseased wretches, with features strongly marked, quarrel and tear each other to pieces for the pittance which charity throws to their misery. Descending by a ruined staircase into vaults that were falling in, where they were not partially sustained by a few pillars that indicated they had been formerly gilt and sculptured, our author found himself, to his astonishment, in the grand synagogue. Some children in rags were learning, from a blind old man, the ancient history of the city, and heard that their fathers adored the God of Israel, not in the wretched den where they then were, but under porticos of marble, and roofs built of the cedars of Lebanon! Such is now the condition of the remnant of the extraordinary people whose hands raised, and whose sweat and blood bathed the proudest monuments of Memphis and of Rome. The space within the walls would contain six times the number of inhabitants above specified; so that a great part of its unpaved and steep streets is uninhabited, and a large quantity of houses, churches, and monasteries, are entirely deserted. The inhabited houses generally receive the light only by means of the door, and one or two small holes for windows, with wooden bars. In a few poor shops they sell olives and fruits brought from Damas, rice, corn, and some dried vegetables: a group of starving Arabs may be seen devouring these luxuries with their eyes; while the Turkish shopkeeper smokes his pipe with indifference, utterly regardless, to all appearance, of his own interests.

M. de Forbin went from Jerusalem to Bethlehem, which received its name, it is said, from Abraham himself. David there guarded his flock, and Boaz and Ruth were Bethlehemites. The first Christians built a small chapel over the spot where the stable stood in which our Saviour was born: the emperor Adrian substituted the altar of Adonis, which was afterwards thrown down by St. Helen, who caused the church to be erected that stands there to this day. The Armenians are now in possession of this temple. The convent has all the appearance of a fortress; the principal gate is made very low, to hinder, as our author says, the Arabs from entering on horseback, or in too great number. The town had just been visited with an order for a contribution of 8000 piastres; and the population, which is

entirely Christian, was in a state of great agitation. The young women of Bethlehem are described as graceful, and finely featured: a veil envelopes, without hiding, their countenance; and their arms are naked. M. de Forbin visited many families of the place, and was kindly received. Going out of the town, you see the mountains of Hebron, where the pretended tomb of Abraham is still shown; in the valley of Mamre repose the ashes of Caleb : further distant they point out the rock in a cave of which David hid himself from the fury of Saul.

To go to Jericho, it is necessary to leave Jerusalem by the gate Setty-Mariam, and to cross the torrent Cedron. When M. de Forbin took this journey it was winter; but the temperature of the air scarcely permitted him to believe this. Throughout the whole of Judea, occasional rain is the only indication of winter: autumn brings no fruits, spring expands no flowers; yet the heats of summer dry the source of Siloa: it would appear that there are no longer seasons for this unhappy country.' (p. 92.) The road to Jericho passes through narrow valleys and deep ravines, almost impracticable, that seemed made by some recent convulsion. The mountains looked as if they were stained with sulphur, as at the Solfatara in the neighbourhood of Naples. The traveller, after having descended into dismal chasms, must climb sharp and steep rocks to discover the plain of Jericho. The Arabs call it Ryah: a crowd of huts, built of earth and reeds, and roofed with a sort of heath, is all that now remains bearing the name of this city, whose once celebrated walls are replaced by fagots of thorns and thistles, that hardly serve to defend the cattle against the frequent attacks of wild beasts. The aga, as wretched as his subjects, inhabited a ruined tower, which our traveller climbed with much difficulty. The best abode in the place was assigned him for the night; but he could not support its bad smell: he joined his companions round a large fire in the open air, where they supped on a kid killed before them, and broiled on the wood ashes. Wrapped up in my cloak, and stretched on the ground, I slept in spite of my bad supper and the noise of my entertainers. The principal persons of Jericho (les notables) came to chat with the Turks of my escort, and the conversation was long and loud. We were all on the alert again before break of day, and saw the sun rise behind the mountains of the Arabian desert.' (p. 94.)

The Dead Sea, or Asphaltic Lake of Sodom, is seen on the right of Jericho: the Jordan discovers itself far off in the distance on the left, between two small hills covered with thorny shrubs. The aga added some fresh men to our traveller's escort, who proceeded towards the spot where the sinful towns were destroyed by the fire of heaven. The road lay over a sandy plain, thinly spotted with small shrubs, and some plants of an exquisite perfume. The party was on its guard against Arab robbers, and took prisoner a Bedouin whose companions fled at its approach. He was afterwards permitted to get off by throwing himself into the Jordan. The banks of this river are high, and covered

with trees; its water is yellow, troubled, and pretty deep. Its width here is trifling-about a quarter that of the Seine at Paris.

Our author's description of the Asphaltic Lake contains nothing new: he says, the Jews believe that, at the birth of Messiah, the firedestroyed cities will re-appear. From a hill formed of ruins, supposed to be those of Gomorrah, M. de Forbin sketched a view, which included the Mount Nebo, where Moses died. Searching on the banks of the river for vestiges of the guilty town, I in fact discovered some remains of walls, of a tower, and of several columns.'

Nothing, according to our author's account, can equal the horrible melancholy of this country. Deep and dark valleys are suddenly shut up by a lofty mountain, perfectly white, which in the twilight might be taken for an enormous phantom defending the passage; the crevices and the caverns then put on the appearance of features, and the ravines down its sides mark the folds of its frightful robe. Mountains of cinders, in the shape of imperfect and reversed cones; fantastic rocks, riven, overturned, and standing; these were the objects we encountered for several leagues, till we gained a more elevated spot, whence the bitter waters of the Dead Sea were again visible: at this moment the sun was descending behind the mountains of Edom. The lake seemed an exquisite surface of lapis lazuli, of which the mountains that surrounded it formed the golden border. Further off the rocky crags, heaped one upon the other, now put on the appearance of a fortified city, and now of a vast amphitheatre that had no other spectators or actors but the kites and vultures. Immense eagles balanced themselves majestically in the mid-air above their ancient and undisturbed empire.' (p. 101.)

The monastery of St. Sabas, one of those dismal inaccessible Cenobite retreats, of which numbers are to be found in the deserts of Asia, is placed on the peak of a rock, and hangs at the height of 400 feet over the dried torrent of Cedron. Our author describes it as the most frightful solitude he had ever seen the grots of the unhappy fanatics are excavated in nooks, and under projections that expose them to continual danger. Doves, and a multitude of anchorites, formerly inhabited together the whole of the awful valley below:-it is now, however, deserted by the human beings, yet blue pigeons, says the traveller, still float over the abyss. Not a shrub, not a plant, not a drop of water, can be found within the enormous enclosure of the monastery. Two low and narrow gates, covered with iron and nails, were closely shut against the party: they begged admission in vain; the hour seemed a suspicious one to the Greek hermits; and al that prayers the most earnest, and menaces the most severe, could procure, was a jar of water, long-time expected, and at last lowered to them from the top of a tower eighty feet high. The poor Caloyers are obliged to watch day and night against the Arabs, whole tribes of whom often come to attack them. Their watching, however, is of small avail: their enemies possess themselves of all the issues; and the inmates of

the place are thus compelled to conclude a treaty, the single article of which provides for the payment of a contribution.

On the 2d of December our traveller quitted Jerusalem, proceeding by the village of Jeremiah towards the sea. As he approached Jaffa, by the road of the ancient Arimathea, the weather became milder still, and he breathed the perfume of orange and citron gardens, which are planted without order or art. Pleasant rivulets go murmuring amongst the rows of trees which press thickly against each other: their branches are bent down, with the weight of flowers and fruits, into the running water at their feet, where they refresh themselves, and add to the gentle noise of the streams. Noble palm-trees rise, like minarets, above these embalmed groves. This is a very different scene from that of the Cenobite monastery, and of the rocks and valleys of the Dead Sea! It is not possible to conceive the pleasure,' he says, 'we felt in plunging into these delicious thickets, after our eyes had been so long accustomed to spread themselves over bare and burning flats, and our ears had been struck by no pleasanter sounds than those of the shrill and incessant cries of an Arabian populace, always apparently threatening and revolting.'-p.

132.

6

At Jaffa our author delivered his letters of introduction to the aga, a brave, able, cunning, cruel, and ambitious Circassian, who seems to aim at acquiring some day an independent power. The Christian convent here is on a tolerably good footing with the chief of the government, owing to the adroitness of le Pere Curé,' Juan Solar, a sharp intriguing ecclesiastic, who has made a friend of Elias Basila, a Syrian Christian, and second writer to Mehemet Aga. Le Pere Curé intrigues that his protector Elias may become prime minister; and prompts, pushes, and whispers to advance this laudable end, without ceasing. The second writer, however, is too indolent and too honest, says our author: he smokes 200 pipes a day, while he is waiting quietly till his greatness shall be thrust upon him. M. de Forbin had determined to cross Palestine, for the purpose of arriving at Damietta. The journey is far from a safe one; but the aga furnished him with a good conductor. Near the ruins of Azoth, so flourishing under the Philistines, our author fell in with a Bedouin, wandering, as he stated, without any object, and mounted on a beautiful mare, with gazelle eyes, whose praises he loudly sounded, and was delighted to hear re-echoed. He stooped over the neck of the graceful animal, spoke to it as to a favorite child, and covered it with kisses. Ascalon is totally deserted: not one inhabitant remains within its walls. It is placed, like Naples, on an amphitheatrical slope, forming a half circle, and the sea forms the chord of the arc. The gates and ramparts still stand: the streets conduct to the squares: the wild antelope mounts the staircases of the palaces: the vast churches ring with the cry of the jackal; and bands of these animals meet in the great marketplace. They are now the sole masters of Ascalon! The Arabs, who call it Djaurah, struck by its melancholy appearance, regard it as the abode

of evil spirits. They stoutly affirm that during the night the city is often seen illuminated: that the sound of innumerable voices is heard, also the neighing of horses, the clashing of arms, and all the tumult of combats. An exquisite temple of Venus, in the Greek style, stands not far from the Gothic Christian monuments. Lady Esther Stanhope has recently made excavations at Ascalon ; but the expense was found by her ladyship to be too great, and her attempts have been discontinued. M. de Forbin adds a note respecting our countrywoman, who has taken up her abode in the East:- Lady Esther Stanhope has inhabited Syria for some years past: at present she resides in the small town of Antoura, above Lebanon. Her good actions have conquered the affections of the Bedouin Arabs; and people say, that they are very well disposed to proclaim her their queen. A ceremony, which certainly would have resembled a coronation, was prepared for her at Tadmour, the ancient Palmyra, but her modesty induced her to decline this singular triumph.' (p. 143.)

But we have been better pleased, we confess, with Mr. Buckingham's Travels in Palestine, than with any other recent publication respecting this country. The itineraries of Catholic devotees,' he justly remarks, have furnished the most ample details regarding the sanctuaries and holy places; and the names of Phocas, Quaresmius, and Adrichomius, are associated with these early labors. The extended journeys of Protestant scholars have enlarged our acquaintance with objects of more general enquiry, and the names of Maundrell, Shaw, and Pococke, stand pre-eminent among these. The profound researches of both English and French critics have laid open all the stores of learning in illustration of the ancient geography of Judea; and the works of Reland and D'Anville, are monuments of erudition and sagacity that would do honor to any country, while the labors of very recent travellers would seem to close the circle of our enquiries, by the pictures which they have given of the general state of manners and the present aspect of the country, retaining still the freshness of their original coloring. Yet, among all those who have made the Holy Land the scene of their researches, there has not been one who did not conceive that he was able to correct and add to the labors of his predecessors, and, indeed, who did not really notice something of interest which had been disregarded before. It is thus that Dr. Clarke expresses his doubts and disbelief at every step, and attempts to refute, with indignation, authorities which travellers of every age had hitherto been accustomed to venerate. And it is thus, too, that Chateaubriand confesses, with all the frankness of disappointment, that, after he had read some hundreds of volumes on the country he came to visit, they had given him no accurate conceptions of what he subsequently beheld for himself.' (Pref. p. v. vi.)

Mr. Buckingham embarked at Alexandria on the 25th of December, 1815, on board a shuktoor, a three-masted vessel peculiar to the navigation of the Syrian coast, about thirty feet in length, by fifteen in its extreme breadth, and about forty tons burden. The captain and his

crew, all together ten in number, were Syrian Arabs, professing the Greek religion, unskilful in the management of their vessel, and utterly ignorant of navigation. After a tedious and perilous voyage of thirteen days, the circumstances of which it is not necessary to detail, the vessel entered in safety the harbour of Soor, the ancient Tyre, whence he determined to prosecute his journey by land.

Of the present state of this proud mart of antiquity, whose resources of wealth and power are enumerated with so much eloquence by the prophet when proclaiming its destined fall-whose merchants were princes-whose traffickers were the honorable of the earth,' (Isaiah xxiii. 8)— we have the following interesting particulars: 'The town of Soor is situated at the extremity of a sandy peninsula, extending out to the northwest for about a mile from the line of the main coast. The breadth of the isthmus is about onethird of its length; and, at its outer point, the land on which the town itself stands becomes wider, stretching itself nearly in right angles to the narrow neck which joins it to the main, and extending to the north-east and south-west for about a third of a mile in each direction. The whole space which the town occupies may be, therefore, about a mile in length, and half a mile in breadth, measuring from the sea to its inland gate. It has all the appearance of having been once an island, and at some distant period was, perhaps, of greater extent in length than at present, as from its north-east end extends a range of fragments of former buildings, beaten down and now broken over by the waves of the sea. Its south-western extreme is of natural rock, as well as all its edge facing outward to the sea; and the soil of its central parts, where it is visible by being free of buildings, is of a sandy

nature.

'While this small island preserved its original character, in being detached from the continent by a strait of nearly half a mile in breadth, no situation could be more favorable for maritime consequence; and, with so excellent a port as this strait must have afforded to the small trading vessels of ancient days, a city built on it might, in time, have attained the high degree of splendor and opulence attributed to Tyrus, of which it is thought to be the site. On approaching the modern Soor, whether from the sea, from the hills, from the north, or from the south, its appearance has nothing of magnificence. The island on which it stands is as low as the isthmus which connects it to the main land, and, like this, all its unoccupied parts present a sandy and barren soil. The monotony of its gray and flatroofed buildings is relieved only by the minaret of one mosque with two low domes near it, the ruins of an old Christian church, the square tower without, the town to the southward or south-east of it, and a few date-trees scattered here and there among the houses. On entering the town, it is discovered to have been walled; the portion towards the isthmus still remaining, and being entered by a humble gate, while that on the north side is broken down, showing only detached fragments of circular towers greatly dilapidated. These walls, both from their con

fined extent and style of building, would seem to be of less antiquity than those which encompassed Tyrus in the days of its highest splendor, as they do not enclose a space of more than two miles in extent, and are of ordinary workmanship. They do not reach beyond the precincts of the present town, thus shutting out all the range to the northward of the harbour, which appears to be composed of the ruins of former buildings. The tower to the south-east is not more than fifty feet square and about the same height. It is turretted on the top, and has small windows and loop-holes on each of its sides. A flight of steps leads up to it from without, and its whole appearance is much like that of the Saracenic buildings in the neighbourhood of Cairo. At the present time the town of Soor contains. about 800 substantial stone-built dwellings, mostly having courts, wells, and various conveniences attached to them, besides other smaller habitations for the poor. There are, within the walls, one mosque, three Christian churches, a bath, and three bazaars. The inhabitants are

at the lowest computation from 5000 to 8000, three-fourths of which are Arab Catholics, and the remainder Arab Moslems and Turks.' (p. 47, 48.)

During the fair season, that is, from April to November, the port is frequented by vessels from the Greek islands, the coasts of Asia Minor, and Egypt, and a considerable trade is carried on in all the productions of those parts; Soor being one of the marts of supply for Damascus, for which its local situation is now, as it formerly was, extremely eligible. The mercantile people are chiefly Christians, whose dress resembled that of the same class in Cairo: the women were habited partly after the Egyptian and partly after the Turkish fashion. In the court of the house where our traveller lodged, he observed a female divested of her outer robes. Her garments,' he says, 'then appeared to resemble those of the Jewish women in Turkey and Egypt: the face and bosom were exposed to view, and the waist was girt with a broad girdle fastened by massy silver clasps. This woman, who was a Christian, wore also on her head a hollow silver horn, rearing itself upwards obliquely from her forehead, being four or five inches in diameter at the root, and pointed at its extreme; and her ears, her neck, and her arms, were laden with rings, chains, and bracelets. The first peculiarity reminded me very forcibly of the expression of the Psalmist, ‘Lift not up thine horn on high, speak not with a stiff neck.' 'All the horns of the wicked will I cut off, but the horns of the righteous shall be exalted;' similar illustrations of which Bruce had also found in Abyssinia, in the silver horns of warriors and distinguished men. The last recalled to my memory, with equal readiness, the species of wealth which the chosen Israelites were commanded to borrow from the Egyptians, at the time of their departure from among them; and of the spoils taken in their wars with the Canaanites whom they dispossessed, when it is stated that many shekels of silver and of gold were produced on melting down the bracelets, the ear-rings, and other ornaments of the women and children whom they