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strangers. We entered a grassy court-yard sur- | rounded by structures of varied architectrue, festooned with vines, and shrubbery. The walls are covered with inscriptions in strange characters; mottoes from the Koran, scrolls, hieroglyphics, ciphers, groups of flowers, fanciful birds and beasts bursting from arabesque scrolls, ornament every door. Tall trees and beautiful fountains add the living charm given only by verdure and running water. Chief among the fountains are two at the entrance, in which the graceful invention of the East has exhausted itself. Arabesques, lightly sculptured and painted with bright harmonious colors, surround the marble basins filled with the brightest water that ever sparkled. "If there be another fountain like unto this"-so runs the inscription-"let it come forth and show itself. Damascus and Bagdad have witnessed many things, but so beautiful a fountain have they not beheld." This fountain was erected by the Khan "Krim Gheraï the radiant, whose fostering hand hath quenched the thirst of the land." Upon its fellow, its founder still implores the divine mercy for himself and for the sinners of his race.

Before entering the palace buildings, we visited the mausoleum which covers the remains of many Khans. The custodian, an aged Moslem, bore a torch, by the flaming light of which we could see bier-shaped tombs, with high head-stones carved at the top into the form of turbans. Around the mausoleum spreads the cemetery. Vines and

shrubs vail the tombs of those who, with a purer taste, chose that their last sleep should be under the open sky. We walked reverently among the tombs, while Gottlob, his meerschaum for once laid aside, interpreted the inscriptions upon them. Many of them were conceived in a spirit of touching beauty. One prince would not have his tomb covered by any roof, because "the heavens are so glorious and beautiful that even from my grave I would look up into the sky, the abode of God." Another ordered his tomb to be thickly walled and roofed, "because"-so runs the inscription

"I am utterly unworthy that the least ray of God's sun should shine upon me." Was this the utterance of a soul haunted by some inexpiable crime? or was it not rather the miserere of a spirit sensitively alive to the lightest fault, and overwhelmed by a sense of the perfections of the Holy One, in whose immediate presence he was about to stand? Let us hope the latter; and that, like another penitent who dared not "lift up his eyes" from the dust, "he went home justified." Another ordered a vine to be planted over his head, "that he, who in life had brought forth so little fruit, might be found more fruitful in death." Another had his tomb built close under the eaves of the mosque, in order that, as the water from the sacred roof fell upon him, "it might wash away the foulness of his sins, which were as numberless as the drops falling from the clouds."

The palace is uninhabited, yet every thing is

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MAUSOLEUM OF THE KHANS.

and bathed her hands with tears. If so, his hopes were unavailing. He might be her trusted counselor, her favorite general; but the flame of lawless love, once extinguished can never be relighted. These apartments remain just as they were left by their imperial occupant more than sixty years ago. The carpets and mattings and hangings are as brilliant as ever; fresh flowers in precious vases still perfume the air; gold and silver fishes sport in crystal bowls, as they did under the eye of the Empress, so long closed in death; the marble bath seems to be awaiting her presence.

We passed from the city, up the valley toward Tchioufout-Galeh-"The Fort of the Jews"-the chief seat of the small dispersed sect of the Karaites. Emerging from the throat of the defile in which Bagtche Serai stands, we entered a broader valley shaded with majestic oaks and beeches. This was the "Valley of Jehosaphat," the cemetery of the Karaites. All around were tombstones, lying flat or standing at every conceivable angle of inclination; for the sanctity of the grave has been disturbed by earthquakes. The solitary fortress, perched high up on the summit of a steep rock, is the Zion of these Hebrew Purists, who adhere to the written law, rejecting the idle glosses of the Tal

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as fresh as though its occupants were hourly ex- | mud, and the manifold traditions of the Rabbins. pected. We wandered through interminable suits of rooms, connected by winding stairs and narrow passages. They are all small, and hardly two on a level. The floors are covered with the softest carpets; Persian rugs of the richest hues overspread the divans; the walls are hung with precious tapestry of those gorgeous colors which charm the Oriental eye; over the arched doorways are suspended satin curtains. Painted and latticed windows fling long bars of many-colored light and deep shadow across floor and wall, and along the furniture inlaid with gold, silver, and pearl. There is none of the magnificence derived from amplitude of proportions or massiveness of material; the charm consists rather in the exquisite taste displayed, and the perfection of the innumerable details, which realize all that the most glowing imagination can picture of the luxurious life of an eastern serai.

Perhaps the most elegant apartments are the ones fitted up by Potemkin for the Imperial Catharine, when she made the tour of her new dominions. Wherever she was to pass the night during this long progress-whether in some miserable village, on the broad steppe, or in the sandy desert-she found a pavilion erected for her use by the considerate gallantry of her former lover, whose invisible presence thus seemed to hover around her. Perhaps he wished to recall the old love which she had once felt for him, but had transferred to younger and fairer men; just as when he met her in the famous palace of Taurida which she had built for him, he fell on his knees, VOL. IX.-No. 49.-B

Few inhabit the city of the living, for the sect is widely scattered in many lands; but all, if possible, return to have their bones laid with those of their fathers in the city of the dead. A long flight of steps cut in the solid rock, leads up to the fortress. At the bottom is the well which supplies it with water. We ascended among a file of donkeys laden with water-skins, who climbed up without drivers. The place seemed deserted; all the able-bodied men had descended to the Tartar town to ply their different trades. A few children too young to go out into the world, and a few old men returned from their long wanderings, and calmly awaiting the summons which should bid them take their rest in the Valley of Jehosaphat, were the only human beings we saw. The view from the Jewish town is transcendently beautiful. The eye wanders over a succession of wooded slopes, far up among huge masses of beetling crags and conical rocks, while the great Tchatir-Dagh-"Tent-Mountain"-the loftiest summit of the chain of the Crimea, flings its steep sides and flat top against the southern sky.

From Bagtche Seraï, after due consultation with Gottlob, I resolved to make my meditated descent upon Sevastopol. I found that there was no obstacle in the way of the city being entered by the neighboring German colonists, the prohibition extending only to foreigners. A fortnight's roughing it among the Tartars had neutralized all the advantage in respect to wardrobe, which I might have once boasted over my Teutonic friend. A huge meerschaum, with due

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supply of the rankest tobacco, was easily attainable; and a little practice enabled me to inhale the fumes with becoming phlegm. I was sure that my German was good enough to escape detection by any body. Brown's linguistic acquirements were more limited; and after due consideration, it was decided that he should not make the attempt, but should remain behind at the "Garden Palace." A stout Tartar wagon was hired, and Gottlob and myself, threw ourselves upon the straw with which it was filled; the word to go ahead was given, and off we set, while the shadows of night yet filled the valley. By noon we reached Inkermann, at the head of the inlet upon which Sevastopol is situated. Here commence the works which supply water to the docks of Sevastopol, twelve miles distant. The course of a river has been diverted into a new channel cut along the face of a hill, through long excavations and galleries, for the whole distance. I had a little leisure to inspect these gigantic works, while our horses were baiting.

In a couple of hours after setting off again, we came within view of Sevastopol, with its lofty white houses, green-domed churches, and menacing batteries. Stretching far into the land, beyond the lines of the streets, we could see long lines of masts rising above the intervening hills. As we passed the gates I followed Gottlob's example, and puffed away most vigorously. He answered whiff for whiff. The vigor of our fumi

gations convinced the sentinels that we were harmless peasants from the German coloniesthough to make doubly sure, we threw in a few words of unmistakable High Dutch. We passed without being even challenged, and I felt that I had a rightful claim to the title of Sevastopolefsky, or "Conqueror of Sevastopol." Soon we were quietly dining at an obscure inn, kept by a compatriot of Gottlob's. The only precaution of which I made use during my stay, was to give a vigorous whiff or two from the inseparable meerschaum, whenever I supposed that any officer might be looking at me, and enter into an animated conversation in German with Gottlob.

Sevastopol is admirably adapted for the purposes to which it has been applied. An inlet of the sea indents the western coast of the Crimea,. having a mouth so narrow that it is commanded by the fortifications on the shore, and a depth of water sufficient to float the largest vessels. Four bays set in upon the southern shore of the inlet, separated by high bare limestone ridges. Upon one of these ridges the city is built, the streets generally winding around among the sharp and jutting rocks. The main street is built half way up the slope of the hill, and runs parallel with the principal quay. Here are the chief buildings, the Admiralty with its enormous portico, a splendid cathedral, and many large and imposing residences, conspicuous from the multiplicity of blinds which form a poor defense against the

pervading dust. Attempts at introducing trees | for whose protection alone Sevastopol exists, is and plants have proved failures, and the city constructed and maintained at an expense altopresents a mass of dazzling whiteness which gether unparalleled. Not a vessel of it has ever almosts bli s the eye. The streets are kept bowed to the gales of the ocean; not one of tolerably clean by gangs of military prisoners them, before the recent massacre at Sinope, has where constantly engaged in sweeping them; ever seen a hostile flag. They are equipped, but 1.. spite of this precaution the air is always perform a few manœuvres in the narrow sea, and full of a fine penetrating dust which produces then quietly rot in the secure harbor fortified for the most distressing ophthalmia. The soldiers their reception. That fleet bides its time to apemployed in making excavations for the public pear in the Golden Horn: Sevastopol is for the works have suffered dreadfully from this cause. Black Sea fleet: the Black Sea fleet is for the Not unfrequently in four-and-twenty hours after future. the first attack, the eye becomes putrid and drops out.

Every thing here reminds you that this is no peaceful emporium of commerce. The wharves are lined with vessels, but among them is not a solitary merchant flag. Ships of war of every size open their ports upon you. No picturesque sailors, wearing the varied attire of their own countries, lounge about the quay. You meet only the white uniform of the naval and military service. Sentinels stand on guard at every turn, presenting arms toward their officers who pass and repass continually. Grim batteries frown every where; and the only variety of prospect is obtained by gazing now into the mouth of a fortytwo and now into that of a sixty-four pounder. By day every thing presents the orderly monotonous aspect of a fortress; and the stillness of night is broken only by the tinkling of bells from the vessels in the harbor, and the measured tread and frequent challenges of the sentinels pacing their continual rounds. Ascending to the summit of the city, the eye wanders along the line of bare limestone crags which gained for the coast the name of Ak-Tiar—the “White Rocks," and passes slowly down to the batteries which guard the harbor, the enormous three-deckers of the Black Sea fleet, and the long rows of condemned hulks, which have been converted into magazines and prison ships. The ordinary population of the city, including the military and naval force stationed there, is set down at forty or fifty thousand; but at times, when some great review is to be held, it is vastly increased. Yet in so large a town there is no such thing as a hotel or an inn, worthy of the name. A few miserable dens in an obscure quarter of the town give shelter to the few inhabitants of the surrounding country who now and then pass a night here.

Yet, after all, there is something imposing in this great naval station. Its foundation and maintenance are a part of that great system of policy which aims sooner or later at bringing the shores of the Bosphorus within the bounds of the Russian Empire. Every thing that can conduce to this end is contrived on the largest scale. The public works are ably planned, and executed without regard to cost. I have already alluded o the aqueduct by which the water necessary for the careening-dock has been conveyed from a distance of four leagues. The stone of the neighboring cliffs is too soft for the construction of the basins and docks; that which is used has all been brought from a distance. The fleet,

Although the fleet has encountered no hostile vessels, the long rows of hulks tell of a foe still more destructive. The ships last only from five to ten years, and are then condemned as unseaworthy, while the vessels of other nations last for twice that period. Ask any Russian officiał the reason, and he will shake his head mysteriously, and tell you of a minute worm-the teredo navalis-bred from the slimy river that pours into the inlet of Sevastopol, which attacks the timbers, and reduces them to rotten powder; adding with a sigh, that all attempts to prevent its ravages have proved unavailing. Those better instructed, shrug their shoulders at the bare mention of the worm, wondering how it manages to work its way through the copper sheathing. They will tell you that the real destroyer is the system of corruption which pervades all the official life of Russia. Contracts for timber are awarded to the men who will bribe highest; he in turn sub-lets to purveyors who bribe him; and so on until the money which should have been expended upon seasoned oak, finds its way mainly into the pockets of venal employés, and the vessels are constructed of unseasoned fir and pine. A final bribe given to the inspector insures that this miserable substitute is accepted. If we may credit the testimony of those who should be competent authority, there are not in the whole Black Sea fleet a half score of vessels capable of sustaining the storms of the Atlantic.

Now and then, it is true, some unwary functionary is brought to summary and condign punishment. It is a common report through all Southern Russia that directly after a recent visit of the Emperor to Sevastopol, the soldiers engaged in sweeping the streets were surprised at the appearance of a comrade whom they did not recognize, though somehow his features seemed not unfamiliar to them. At length the rumor began to spread that the new sweeper was none other than the Governor of the city, who had been degraded from his post to the ranks, and condemned to perform the most menial offices. What his precise crime was nobody could say; though official corruption, being the most common, was at once fixed upon as the most probable. It is but fair to add, that I could never quite satisfy myself whether this story was wellfounded. The public has so little access to reliable sources of information, that the most absurd rumors find easy credence. At all events, the fact that nobody seemed to find any improbability in the story, shows conclusively the low estimate

every where put upon official morality. If it was | religious standard. By its effects on its follow

not true, nobody doubted that it might at any moment be so.

After a two day's stay at Sevastopol, Gottlob and myself once more replenished our meerschaums, seated ourselves in our wagon, gave the sentinels at the gate a farewell whiff, to convince them that we were honest Germans, and drove back to Bagtche Seraï. There we rejoined our companion, who was awaiting our return. The time we had fixed for our tour had already been exceeded; so putting ourselves under the conduct of our guide, we made the best of our way back to Yalta, by another route from the one by which we had come. We were fortunately, just in time to catch the steamer, on board which we embarked for Odessa. So ended our trip through the Crimea—a brief but pleasant episode in a year's residence in Southern Russia.

THE HOLY WEEK AT ROME.
FIRST ARTICLE.

THE Holy Week at Rome! What! unholy reminiscences of crowding, struggling, contention; of extortion and cheating; of dirt and discomfort; in short, of all the ills attendant upon the multiplication of the population of the holy city tenfold in proportion to its capacity of accommodation, does not this solemn church-festival vividly recall to every traveler, who has undergone its purgatorial experience, either to view its vain show, or to stir anew languid devotion in witnessing the significant facts in man's redemption which it is intended to commemorate? Rome, during this period, is the focus of Christendom. The Protestant hurries up to the Eternal City to behold the scarlet lady in all her pomp and circumstance, with the charitable object of seeing with his own eyes whether her color is not even more deeply dyed than it has been represented. The Catholic devoutly makes his pilgrimage to lay alike his sins and offerings on her altars, and with renewed heart and faith to carry back with him the blessing and absolution of Christ's Vicar on earth. Both are not unfrequently alike disappointed. I have known the scorning Protestant to go away the disciple of infallibility, while the simple-hearted Catholic, gradually losing himself among the mazes of doubt and hypocrisy which, fungus-like, cluster around the claims of papacy, at last acknowledged himself a pagan, or worse, an unbeliever in all religion.

No city, both from its past and present influence on the world's history, presents more claims to interest than Rome. The many who visit it are as nothing in comparison with those who desire and can not. I shall therefore give, for the benefit of the latter class, so far as I am able, a practical view of its ceremonies and principles during that period which it has set apart to commemorate with all its sanctity and splendor, as one of peculiar solemnity-embracing the most momentous events that ever dawned upon the human race-the death and resurrection of our Saviour. What papacy thus openly spreads before the whole world must be considered as its

ers it can rightly be judged. To keep within the strictest limits of charitable evidence, I shall confine myself either to papal authorities or ceremonies; for it is solely upon them that it founds its high pretensions, and by them exhibits its righteousness.

Bishop England, in a little work published at Rome, entitled an "Explanation of the Ceremonies of the Holy Week," sets forth the claims and objects of the Roman Church at this particular festival. We, therefore, can not go amiss in briefly quoting from him the doctrines which he asserts to be animating principles of the practices he advocates.

"The object," he says, "of our church-ceremony is not mere idle show; such exhibitions would, in religion, be worse than a waste of time." "God can never be pleased by any homage which is not internal and spiritual.” “The legitimate objects of external rites in religion, are the instruction of the mind and amelioration

of the heart; their object is the promotion of enlightened piety. Whatever does not tend to this, is at least useless; probably mischievous. The Catholic Church is desirous of having all her observances tested by this principle." By this principle, I beg all, whether Protestant or Catholic, to test even the few of the manifold observances that I shall be able to quote within my prescribed limits, and to frankly confess their own conclusions as to the degree in which they promote " enlightened piety."

The Pope, as we all know, claims to be the representative of Christ, with spiritual and temporal powers commensurate with a divine authority. Although our Saviour expressly declared his kingdom not to be of this world, yet his successor, and "visible head of the Church," is also a "temporal sovereign;" and, in addition to his ecclesiastical state, surrounds himself with as brilliant a court as can exist, in which females are outwardly excluded. In judging, then, of these incompatible functions, a charitable distinction should be drawn between that which properly belongs to the one or the other. Inasmuch, however, as the temporal power had its origin in his spiritual position, and is intimately blended with it in all its phases, it will be difficult to define the line of demarkation between his duties as high-priest and sovereign. We must therefore take him simply as he shows himself to the adoration of the faithful.

"His throne is placed on the Gospel side of the altar," says Bishop England. From personal inspection, I can assure the curious reader that no imperial robes surpass those of the Holy Father, in rich and curious embroidery, gold, precious stones, and general value of materials and cunning workmanship. Description would fail to illustrate the variety and pomp of costume of the Roman ecclesiastical courts. Therefore I shall present-so far as uncolored cuts can-the extent and costliness of this branch of service of the successor of Him who exalted poverty in the priesthood to the rank of a virtue.

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