at the 403rd page, he is still confused as to the meaning of much that he has gone through, he cannot, at least, blame the accomplished lady who has done it into English, but must refer the fact to his own slowness in comprehending German logomachies, or to

that unfortunate quality of the Practical in the British intellect which makes metaphysics nauseous to us, and suffers us so seldom to rise in speculation beyond the prosaic region where hard cash is to be made by such an exercise of mental ingenuity.

IT is only the first week in March, and the snow is still plentiful upon the summits of hoary Lebanon; nevertheless, the spring has fairly set in in these congenial climes, and the balmy soft breath of the morning air is perfumed with the incense of a thousand dew-sprinkled blossoms. As our steamer approaches the anchorage, and the mists lift from off the lower land, the sun peeps over the hills, casting his golden mantle over land and sea. The snow upon the mountains, like another Assyrian host, is sparkling with scarlet and gold; patches of white here and there serving the imagination for the plumes of the mighty warriors, their chieftains. Neither is the delusion exempt from the sudden overthrow that befel those invaders, for no sooner does bright Sol step fairly over the mountains than, "presto," the mirage vanishes, and snow becomes snowy white again, and the well-defined outlines of the mountain range are pencilled deeply upon a cloudless azure sky. Now, plainly revealed to the naked eye, we behold Beyrout-modern and ancient. Modern, stretching in a long line by the sea-board, and comprising town residences and very beautiful and picturesque villas. Ancient, represented by dilapidated old walls and fortifications (one in ruins extending to a kind of little island close by the landing jetty), battered down minarets mingling with glaring white new ones, and the whole having for back-ground a dingy confusion of buildings of all shapes and sizes, the greater number pierced with those closely-trellised windows which constitute so invariable a feature in the cities and towns of the jealous Turk. Even at this early hour the harbour

is all bustle and activity. Side by side are anchored vessels of all nations and classes; and the crews are, for the most part, employed about the ships, either holystoning or washing decks, or scraping the sides, or painting, or greasing the masts, or setting taut the rigging, or squaring the yards, or loosing the sails to dry. Everybody has something to do, excepting the old Genoese skipper, who has a great aversion to scrubbing and washing the decks on the ground that it only wears away the planks and removes the pitch from the seams, causing thereby leaks; and who, upon a like principle, never touches yard or mast, or block or rope, oftener than is absolutely necessary for the safety of the vessel. Of dusky complexion, and dingy costume, these Genoese entertain a species of hydrophobia in the matter of ablutions by any and every process, hence, their ships' sides are often innocent of paint from year's end to year's end, a coating of coal tar serving as a substitute; and the inside, the cabin and forecastle, &c., are so thoroughly stained with tobacco juice and tobacco smoke that it would require a month's scraping to fit them for a coat of paint. The Genoese skipper and his crew are seated upon the bulwarks, their naked legs and feet dangling over the ship's side, intent upon mending a goodly-sized fishing net, which, when they get down to Scanderoon or Cyprus, will enable them to catch and salt fish enough to last them the whole voyage. Hadye Paniotti also, the Greek captain from Scio, finds similar occupation for himself and his ship's crew; presenting, however, a striking contrast to their Genoese neigh

bours, inasmuch that their costume is neat and clean, and they themselves just returned from their regular morning dip in the briny ocean. Said Abdoorahman Reis, in his little felucca alongside, and seated crosslegged upon a huge pile of pumpkins (fetched hither for sale from Jaffa), inhales his morning pipe, and sips his fingan of coffee with indescribable gusto; wagging his old beard ever and anon to keep time to the uncouth melody of the two lads that constitute his crew, and who, stretched on their backs in the early sunshine, are wailing forth some dolefully-dolorous love ditty.

Eight bells are striking from the various men-of-war lying at anchor further down by the mouth of the river Lycus. Rapidly the echo is caught up from ship to ship, till every vessel that can boast of a bell is ding-donging away the grateful information that it is eight o'clock, and, therefore, breakfast time. Our Arab Reis, not having any bell on board of his felucca, substitutes a brass cooking pot, which he strikes heavily with an iron hammer. Now the whole harbour is vibrating to the shrill whistle of the boatswain's pipe; and immediately afterwards there float upon the air the flags and ensigns of twenty different nations. At scattered intervals on shore, also, flags from flag-staffs on terraces, indicate the domiciles and official residences of the various Consuls. And the Quarantine authorities sport their crescent bunting, to indicate that they have opened for the day, and that new arrivals, such as ourselves, may, therefore, communicate with the shore. Shore-boats swarm off to the vessels in harbour, some are lighters coming to unload cargoes; others are laden with grain or other produce to freight vessels bound to European ports. Boats there are filled with the daily supply of meat, vegetables, &c., requisite for the consumption of hungry sailors; boats there are, also, of a speculative class, bringing off wines, spirits, liqueurs, cigars, bottled ale and porter; canary birds, monkeys, tame squirrels, jewellery, French watches, musical-boxes, carved shells, and shell-boxes from Bethlehem and Jerusalem; bottled water from Jordan, sealed and certified to by the ab

bot of the convent at Hebron ; palmleaves and dates, and a great variety of ornamented and plain Turkish slippers, besides those beautiful golden tissue worked smoking-caps and tobacco-bags, which are the workmanship of the Druses and the Maronites of the Lebanon. Boat-loads there are, moreover, of thievish and clamorous turgimen (interpreters), guides, body-servants, livery stable touters, touters for hotels, and taverns, and lodging-houses; and, in private boats neatly kept up and doing the swell, semi-independent touters from ship-chandlers and general agents. On board of one of these latter we secure a passage, and, as soon as the vessel has obtained pratique, proceed to land. The luggage we must send off for by-and-by, as it must be landed at the Custom-house, which is situated further down the bay, on the confines of a filthy kind of bog.

There are a great many anxious eyes peering inquisitively into our eyes as we land; a great many outstretched hands to grasp our hand; a great many hot and angry people hustling and jostling one another, so as to bid us welcome to these shores of sacred and classic fame. Doctors there are, too, amongst this motley group, sadly put about for want of patient's fees; quack doctors in abundance, who scrutinize each face in the hopes of recognising embers of undeveloped fever, typhoid or malignant, in embryo. We soon make our way through these by aid of wellpractised cicerones, and, in two minutes afterwards, are standing unmolested in the centre of the small open space adjoining the landingsteps. Standing with our backs to the sea, we find ourselves vis-a-vis with a very neatly fitted-up French shop, next to which is a blank wall terminating in a steep flight of stone steps. To our right hand is the "Café du France," once well known as Tolous, where there is a fine saloon and verandah, very inviting of a hot summer's day; where there are billiard-tables-the resort of rollicking young middies, British and Frenchwhere we may get anything in the shape of refreshment, from a small cup of coffee with a petit verre" in it, up to a bottle of ecart champagne or sparkling Burgundy, paying for the

same, you will please understand, in that kind of way which is vulgarly termed through the nose; though what should give rise to such an idiom I am at a loss to comprehend.

Turning to the left we pass under the quarantine office, which is a wooden building, forming a species of arched-in thoroughfare, much resorted to during the heat of summer days, as affording the coolest and most agreeable draft of air to be obtained in Beyrout. The whole extent of this street is strongly railed in, and the entrance to it securely fastened at night by a stout gate. By this arrangement it is next to impossible for any boat's crew to smuggle themselves or illicit goods into the town after the gate is locked for the night; besides which precaution there are always a couple of guardians or night watchmen stationed at this point. At the hour of our passing there is a goodly sprinkling of a heterogeneous nature. Seated side by side on yonder wooden bench, their costumes as much at variance as their features, are "Cadah Bussh," the sick major's Bengalee dubash, clad in long robes of the finest spangled muslin, with a turban to match, and red sash and red slippers. The queer old greybearded man next to him, wrapped up to the neck in greasy fur skins, is the Rabbi Meshak, en route from Erzeroum to Jerusalem, whither he is going to secure for his bones a resting place in the sacred soil where sleep the patriarchs of his faith. Cadah Bussh beholds him with contempt and amazement, wondering how he can support the intense heat of the day in such a costume. Yonder group, gesticulating and yelling to each other, as though they were a mile apart instead of side by side, are refugees, mostly Italians and Poles, though there are some few of other nations amongst them. Nobody knows or cares to know how or where they live excepting the Consuls, whose respective protections they may claim, and these seldom hear much about them, unless they fall into the clutches of the local police. We have only to watch them, however, for a minute or two, to guess their calling. They usually settle as to who is to pay by the noisy game of "Amora," chucking up their fingers in the air and

shrieking out "cinque-sette-octo," till, finally, one of the number is dead beaten, and has to stand treat. Then they hurry off to a filthy little Greek tavern, in the dirtiest of dirty back slums, where, if you have the courage and curiosity to peep in by-andby, you shall, amidst a dense tobacco smoke and suffocating odour of "Rackey" (Arrack spirit), discover our adventurers gambling for their very lives with other, and still more sinister looking customers (mostly oneeyed or squinting awfully), whose faces seem to tell tales of dark deeds done in dark hours. About here we may be sure to meet a strong relay of local police, ready to quell those disturbances which sometimes break out a dozen times a day. But we have wandered away from the landing jetty. There also we encounter the brilliantly attired Arnout; the horned Druse lady from Lebanon; the Armenian Seraff, in sombre attire, with dark blue turban and robes to match; Aleppine merchants in their long flowing silken garments, of skyblue colours for the most part; a holy dervish from Mecca, in a cap like a huge extinguisher; muleteers and camel drivers, in striped-coloured coats, or loose rough sheep-skins; Monsieurs from Paris, just unpacked from a bandbox of the latest fashions; Jonathan, with slouching hat and gawky gait skippers and sailors of all nations and costumes ad lib.; an itinerant vendor of liquorice-water-well peppered with flies-tinkling his brass cups together, and inviting the dusty and thirsty to partake; hot and hurried porters rushing headlong to the seaside, under the irresistible impetus of heavy iron bars, and endangering life and limb everywhere; ragged little boys chattering away in English (the fruits of American tuition), and offering to guide you to all kinds of improbable places. Passing down yonder, in a grotesquely shaped cap, is His Eminence the Greek Patriarch, whilst hurrying past him, in astonishing white calico hats, about a yard and a-half in circumference, are a couple of Sisters of Charity, bound upon some merciful errand this bright spring morning at Beyrout. Sprinkle in amongst the aforegoing a goodly lot of friars and monks, of all orders, ages, sizes, and physiognomy-add here

and there a seedy-looking Turkish soldier, his uniform jacket turned inside out to prevent the blue dye fading in the hot sun. Now and then, too, a sprucely dressed damsel from England, mayhap, or Paris, or Athens, elbowing her way with easy grace amidst a group of staring and astounded Turkish and Arabicgirls, who, gathered round a fountain in the main square, look, in their white robes and hideous eyelet holes, more like ghouls than the beauties they really are when at home and unveiled.

In the middle of all the aforegoing, as if there was not bustle, confusion, and uproar enough without it, we come upon huge heaps of corn and other grain piled up right in the centre of the street, and undergoing the process of being sifted by parties of the ugliest old black women that could be swept together from the length and breadth of the Turkish empire. The dust arising from this process, whilst it chokes and blinds casual passers-by, often inciting them to naughty words, sprinkles the skin of the perspiring sifters so bountifully that they look as if they had been rolled out for a rolly-poly pudding, their black heads and feet representing the jam protruding from either ends. A little further on, and a sudden uproar attracts our attention: a fellow whom we set down at first to be a quack doctor, has mounted himself upon a goodly sized bale, and divested of his cap, bawls out "Harage, harage, harage." This is the public auctioneer. He has some unhappy bankrupt's stock to dispose of; and, drawing a prodigious knife from his girdle, he seizes upon a piece of silk, cuts the cord that binds it, and with one single effort, flings it out to its full extent over the heads of the crowd that have already assembled about him. Then commences the bidding, and the fellow can count in every conceivable tongue, cinque piastre, cinque piastre, baash grosh, humsi fudah, fibe piastre, &c., &c. Amidst the swarms that crowd around him, and almost as active as himself, is an indefatigable Scripture-reader, undaunted of purpose, poor and hardworked, as his seedy black clothes and yellowish necktie denote-Yankee by origin, as his tongue revealsthrusting tracts into the hands or

girdles of those whose speculative thoughts for the moment engross every other idea.

If we were to walk down the narrow lane which runs parallel to this, we should pass through the most squalid quarter inhabited by the worst of Greeks and Ionians. A peep down from the top suffices to convince us of this. Nothing but grog shops and gambling houses which, under the cloak of doing business in small clothes and hardware shops, in reality are unlicensed taverns and dens of infamy. We turn back, therefore, and proceed to the nearest hotel, where a good wash, and something in the shape of lunch, stimulates us for further exertion. Our first field of exploit lies exactly at the back of the hotel, where we come upon a long line of new and decent houses occupied almost exclusively by Europeans-mostly artizans, such as carpenters, turners, &c. Turning out of this we enter upon the essentially native portion of the town, many of the streets being rendered utterly dark by the upper storeys of the houses extending right across them, and damp, slippery, and dangerous, from the fact of their being a receptacle for all the rubbish thrown down through crevices in the planking, and in fact constituting a horrible dust-bin. In the darkest nook about these dark places we are sure to stumble across a small brazier of bright charcoal, with a speculative Turk, wrapped up in his mantle, smoking the pipe of repose, and inviting passers-by to partake of the coffee he vends. Neither is this anchorite without customers in abundance. Camel drivers and donkey boys hither resort and enjoy keif, whilst their heavily laden animals carrying, for the most part, ponderous stones for building purposes, stagger ahead without guidance, to the imminent risk of all the foot passengers.

Emerging from one of these dens we come upon the bazaars, scented as Oriental bazaars always are, with many spices and cunning herbs. The goods displayed for sale in the wretched shops are, for the most part, attractive to the European traveller, consisting of Damascus silks and Tripoli shawls, of very beautiful patterns and colours; Brussa silk goods; worked muslins from Stamboul; ele

gantly ornamented tobacco-pipes from Latachia, with richly inlaid amber mouthpieces; fine cut-glass narghilies, with stands of every colour of the rainbow, and a variety of wares and stuffs manufactured exclusively in Persia, Arabia, and Turkey, such for instance, as ottar of roses; violet and rose conserves, good for coughs; orange flower and rose water in abundance; sandal-wood oil and oil of jessamine and cloves. Amidst all these and doing a thriving business is a garrulous old barber and his assistants, as a matter of course. The inside of his shop is full; and all the benches in front of his door are also occupied. Some are having their heads shaved; others being shampooed, and others again undergoing scarification or being bled, for our barber is a doctor to boot. Next to the barber, the tinkling of a little tin fountain in the open window announces a confectioner's, where we may get iced lemonade, or ozard, or syrup of mulberries, and abundance of that prince of Turkish sweetmeats Rahat-il-Comb; besides donkey loads of haliwah (made with jessamine seed oil) and buccalowah. Next door is a native eating-house, wherein are a prodigious number of hungry porters and labourers devouring piles of waferlike bread, seasoned with sticks of cabob or allernule, slices of meat, fat, and onions cooked in an oven. Every man has a little salt and pepper by his side, into which he dips a green cucumber, ever and anon crunching off a piece to vary the occupation. Further on still and we passa veritable café, with professional story-teller, musicians, and dancing boys and girls. Inside and outside are a gaping multitude, enjoying the fun going forward with intense gratification. Finally, we get out of the city gates, under the gunned walls of which are seated the sentries, playing at backgammon, and a score or so of muleteers, with their mules resting under the shade. We are now out upon a large open space of fine sand, hedged in on either side by prickly pear; to our right and left are guardhouses, interspersed with small taverns and cafés, scattered here and there. Sometimes, also, a few cannon and drowsy-looking soldiers indicate a summer encampment of artillery.

Horses and mules pass us laden with canes from the marshes in the low lands. These are for constructing the battoons or mats upon which the silkworms, now on the eve of being hatched, will be placed and reared, after they are a week old. This sand sometimes serves as a race-course, and terminates at the American Mission station and the Protestant burialground, where sleeps many a poor fellow, that landed perhaps only a week before, arriving here in robust health and full of energy and hope. We have now reached the confines of Beyrout in this direction, and therefore turn back and canter home to our hotel, for the hour and our appetites proclaim it dinner time.

We have dined at the table d'hôte upon a motley variety of European and native dishes, and amidst a very babel of tongues. We are thinking of sitting by the cool window for an hour or so for rest and digestion, when the tramp of soldiers underneath, and the clatter of hoofs and jingling sabres, announce the military out for some purpose. Everybody seizes his hat and rushes down to the waterside, as the troops form in open line the whole length of the street. All the ships in harbour are decorated with flags, reaching from the masthead to the deck. All the Consuls, with the Pasha, and other local officials, are waiting at the landingplace in full-dress uniform. Presently a huge man-of-war steamer comes puffing into the bay and drops her anchor. Bang go the cannons of the fort on shore; bang go the guns of the different men-of-war; bang reply those of the steamer. A foreign prince, with some unpronounceable name, is on board, and presently lands amidst the enthusiastic shouts of the spectators. The band strikes up; the troops present arms, and His Royal Highness is speedily swallowed up in a vortex of cocked-hats, feathers, and silver-headed caned cawosses, by which stream he is carried round the next street corner, and so disappears from vulgar gaze.

Climbing up a steep flight of stone steps we come to a back space whereon is an open café, shaded by a thatch-work supported on poles. This is quite an aristocratic resort, and on diminutive three-legged stools are