-a labyrinthine wonder of historic lore, needing no | their better instinct. We take an interest in all that we commentary but that of his imagination. Who but Leigh Hunt-the genial! the graceful!-could have made the necessary amount of topographic and historic learning anything but useful and wearisome? Who could so happily combine easy gossip with romantic and poetic reminiscences, elegant philosophizing over the past, with bright anticipations for the future? Who knows London so well, or loves it better? "The Town" is not a new book in the proper sense of that word. Great part of it has appeared before in a series of articles in the monthly supplements to Leigh Hunt's London Journal, under the title of "The Streets of London." It will, nevertheless, be as new as it will be charming to a large class of cultivated readers; not from the absolute novelty of the facts related, but from the impress of his own nature which the author has stamped upon them. Everybody who is well acquainted with his genius, knows that Leigh Hunt could give grace and interest to any subject; that he could make an after-dinner speech delightful, and a chapter on statistics amusing. Need we say more to prove to the reader that London, in his hands, has become a sort of embodied beatific vision of British glory? In the great metropolis he teaches us to seek and to find memories of our great men and great deeds,-England's valour, goodness, and intellectual worth. He makes the "very stones prate of their whereabout," and prate so eloquently, that a fanciful reader might half believe it was a spirit talking-the guardian angel of the great city, only that Leigh Hunt is so eminently human, so full of sympathies, that he never talks over the heads of the Londoners, as their tutelary spirit, towering "in pride of place," might be justly imagined to do. The opening of the book sets forth the value of the subject, and shows the truth of Goethe's remark, that "the eye sees only what the eye brings means of seeing." Let all persons who see nothing in London but bricks and paving-stones, dirt and bustle, take notice that the fault is in them and their ignorance. Let Leigh Hunt teach them to open their eyes and their hearts:: "Boswell himself, with all his friend's assistance, and that of the tavern to boot, probably saw nothing in London of the times gone by-of all that rich aggregate of the past which is one of the great treasures of knowledge; and yet, by the same principle on which Boswell admired Dr. Johnson, he might have delighted in calling to mind the metropolis of the wits of Queen Anne's time, and of the poets of Elizabeth; might have longed to sit over their canary in Cornhill with Beaumont and Ben Jonson, and have thought that Surrey-street and Shire-lane had their merits as well as the illustrious obscurity of Bolt-court. In Surrey-street lived Congreve; and Shire-lane, though nobody would think so to see it now, is eminent for the origin of the Kit-Kat Club (a host of wits and statesmen), and for the recreations of Isaac Bickerstaff, Esq., of Tatler celebrity, at his contubernium, the Trumpet. "It may be said that the past is not in our possession; that we are sure only of what we can realise, and that the present and future afford enough contemplation for any man. But those who argue thus, argue against understand; and in proportion as we enlarge our knowthies. Tell the grazier, whom Boswell mentions, of a ledge, enlarge, ad infinitum, the sphere of our sympagreat grazier who lived before him,-of Bakewell, who had an animal that produced him, in one season, the sum of eight hundred guineas; or Fowler, whose horned his farm; or Elwes, the miser, who, after spending cattle sold for a value equal to that of the fee-simple of thousands at the gaming-table, would haggle for a shilling at Smithfield; and he will be curious to hear as much as you have to relate. "Tell the mercantile man, in like manner, of Gresham, or Crisp, or the foundation of the Charter-house by a merchant, and he will be equally attentive. And tell the man, par excellence, of anything that concerns humanity, and he will be pleased to hear of Bakewell, or Crisp, or Boswell, or Boswell's ancestor." Perhaps some of our readers may be glad to see the following summary of the facts and hypotheses set down in the first chapter of "The Town." It gives a rapid glance at the early history of London-a glance at once true and poetic. "ANCIENT BRITISH LONDON was a mere space in the woods, open towards the river, and presenting circular cottages on the hill and slope, and a few boats on the water. As it increased, the cottages grew more numerous, and commerce increased the number of sails. "ROMAN LONDON was British London, interspersed with the better dwellings of the conquerors, and surTower, and from the river to the back of Cheapside. rounded by a wall. It extended from Ludgate to the "SAXON LONDON was Roman London, despoiled, but retaining the wall, and ultimately growing civilized with Christianity, and richer in commerce. The first humble cathedral church then arose where the present one now stands. "NORMAN LONDON was Saxon and Roman London, greatly improved, thickened with many houses, adorned with palaces of princes and princely bishops, sounding with minstrelsy, and glittering with the gorgeous pastimes of knighthood. This was its state through the Anglo-Norman and Plantagenet reigns. The friar then walked the streets in his cowl (Chaucer is said to have beaten one in Fleet-street), and the knights rode with trumpets, in gaudy colours, to their tournaments in Smithfield. "In the time of Edward the First, houses were still built of wood, and roofed with straw, sometimes even with reeds, which gave rise to numerous fires. The fires brought the brooks in request; and an importance which has since been swallowed up in the advancement of science, was then given to the River of Wells, (Bagnigge, Sadler's, and Clerkenwell,) to the Old Bourne (the origin of the name of Holborn), to the little river Fleet, the Wall-brook, and the brook Langbourne; which last still gives its name to a ward. The conduits, which were large leaden cisterns, twenty in number, were under the special care of the lord mayor and aldermen, who, after visiting them on horseback, on the eighteenth of September, hunted a hare before dinner, and a fox after it, in the fields near St. Giles's. Hours, and after-dinner pursuits, must have altered marvellously since those days, and the body of aldermen with them. It was not till the reign of Henry the Fifth that the city was lighted at night. The illumination was with lanterns, slung over the street with wisps of rope or hay. Under Edward the Fourth we first hear of brick houses; and in Henry the Eighth's time of pavement in the middle of the streets." Proceeding from St. Paul's, which the author takes to be the earliest ground built upon in the city of London, he goes westward along the river (and occa St. James is a mere parvenu in the history of London, and good only in fashion at present. The following is incontrovertible truth :- sionally a little to the north), as far as St. James's, noting every fact of historic, biographic, or poetic interest in his course. The localities richest in such associations are, as most people are aware, St. Paul's and Paternoster-row, Ludgate and Blackfriars, Fleetstreet and its tributaries, the Temple and Inns of Court, the Strand and Whitehall. Perhaps the dis-understood, not only at that time, but at any time till trict which our author has illuminated the most brilliantly with thickly-clustering lights of the past glory of wit and fashion, is the neighbourhood of the theatres. Here he has loved to linger and lounge, to laugh and admire. Here he gives us abundant quotations from that show-loving, vain, and cautious prig, Pepys (unfortunately from Lord Braybooke's first and foolish edition, in which many of the best things are left out, to the unquenchable indignation of the buyers of that first edition). Here we see the king's players and the duke's players Hart and Nell Gwyn, Kynaston and Betterton; and their successors in either house, Mrs. Bracegirdle and Mrs. Oldfield, and Garrick, and more than we have space to enumerate. The stories of those two ladies, and the still more interesting one of Miss Ray, are told in the author's best style. "The site of this park" (St. James's), "which must always have been low and wet, is said in the days before the Conquest to have been a swamp. Yet so little within these few years, were those vitalest arts of life, which have been disclosed to us by the Southwood Smiths and others, that the good citizens of London, in those days, built a hospital upon it for lepers (by way have been clustering about it more and more ever since, of purifying their skins); and people of rank and fashion especially of late years. If a merry-meeting is to be wished,' says the man, in Shakspeare, may God prohibit it.' If our health is to be injured while in town by ment, let us all go and make it worse in the bad air of luxury and late nights, say the men of State and ParliaBelgravia. Nay, let us sit with our feet in the water, while in Parliament itself, and then let us aggravate our agues in Pimlico and the Park. There is no use in mincing the matter, even though the property of a great lord be doubled by the mistake. The fashionable world should have stuck to Marylebone and the good old dry parts of the metropolis, or gone up-hill to Kensington gravelpits, or into any other wholesome quarter of the town or suburbs, rather than have descended to the water-side, and built in the mush of Pimlico. Building and houseYork Place and Whitehall are touched by the grave warming, doubtless, make a difference; and wealth has historic muse, but also by the lighter hand of the the usual advantages, compared with poverty: but the picturesque sketcher, as in the following passage :malaria is not done away. professional authority on the "The reader is to bear in mind that the street in subject gave the warning five-and-twenty years ago, in the front of the modern Banqueting House was always open, ing and fashion? 'It is not suspected,' he says, 'that St. Edinburgh Review; but what are warnings to house-buildas it is now, from Charing Cross to King Street, nar- James's park is a perpetual source of malaria, producing rowing opposite to the south end of the Banqueting frequent intermittents, autumnnal dysenteries, and variHouse, at which point the gate looked up it towards the Cross. Just opposite the Banqueting-House, on the ous derangements of health, in all the inhabitants who are site of the present Horse Guards, was the Tilt-Yard. subject to its influence. The cause being unsuspected, The whole mass of houses and gardens on the river side the evil is endured, and no further inquiries are made. comprised the royal residence. Down this open street, The malaria, he tells us, in another passage of the same article, spreads even to Bridge-street and Whitehall. then, just as people walk now, we may picture to ourselves Henry coming with his regal pomp, and Wolsey Nay, in making use of the most delicate miasmometer with his priestly; Sir Thomas More strolling thought- (if we may coin such a word) that we ever possessed, an fully, perhaps talking with quiet-faced Erasmus; Hol-officer who had suffered at Walcheren, we have found it bein, looking about him with an artist's eyes; Surrey reaching up to St. James's-street, even to Bruton-street, coming gallantly in his cloak and feather, as Holbein although the rise of ground is here considerable, and has painted him; and a succession of Henry's wives, the whole space from the nearest water is crowded with with their flitting groups on horseback, or under canopy; handsome, stately Catharine of Aragon; laughing Anna Bullen; quiet Jane Seymour; gross-bodied, but sensible, Anne of Cleves; demure Catharine Howard, who played such pranks before marriage; and disputatious yet buxom Catharine Parr, who survived one tyrant, to become the broken-hearted wife of a smaller one. Down this road also came gallant companies of knights and squires to the tilting-yard; but of them we shall have more to say in the time of Elizabeth." In spite of the intrinsic and accidental value of the numerous quotations from old writers, so profusely scattered up and down throughout these two closely printed volumes, we, for our own parts, regret that there is not more of Leigh Hunt himself. Every passing observation upon the past, every speculation for the future, from such a man is valuable; not, indeed, because he is the most accurate observer, the most profound philosopher, or the most cautious and calculating of speculators, for he has no claim to such titles-but because he is a warm-hearted, loving, living, and irresistibly loveable and charming human being, and his beautiful nature peeps out in every sentence he writes. houses.' We regret that our notice of "the Town" is un-· avoidably short and unsatisfactory, but we counsel all our readers to read it, as soon as possible. It is a treat indeed. Some French person (who, we never could learn), has said that gratitude is only a keen sense of favours to come. We confess to a sense of this sort mingling with our genuine thanks to Leigh Hunt for these two amusing and really instructive volumes. He has left more than half the metropolis untouched. North, east, and south will look mournful and dark beside their illuminated sister; they cry aloud for the poet to visit them with the light of his countenance. We know he can (as far as knowledge and genius give the power) write several volumes more about "the Town," we must therefore hope that his own health and the good sense of the London publishers will combine to induce him to add to his present work. All the reading world will, we feel sure, readily join us in this hope, and raise the old shout of "Eastward, ho!" in a new sense; for the East has, perhaps, the best right to our author's next volume, on the principle of "first come, first served." It FORTY DAYS IN THE DESERT.' TRAVELLERS have a far higher vocation than mere geographers. We doubt whether they have ever yet been placed in their proper literary rank. Poets and philosophers, as well as historians, have drawn largely upon the resources opened to them by travellers. There is one thing especially forgotten in the ordinary estimate of those who have journeyed far to observe, and laboured faithfully to describe. requires great literary ability to select from the common mass of objects which attract the eye fixed on the reality, those which, in description, can convey the idea of that reality to the mind. The artistic principle is in no instance, perhaps, more strikingly exhibited than in the pages of some of our elder travellers. We are not alluding to their fables or exaggerations. There is an implied covenant between the traveller and the rest of the world, that he will make that which is known and visible to the few, known, for good, to the many. When he violates this compact, he ceases to have a claim to the high rank which is legitimately due to the traveller. But let him, on the other hand, report faithfully the last deep impressions left upon his mind by the scenes which he has contemplated, or the novel characters with which he has come in contact, and the best artist that ever existed will not have more completely realized the great purposes of art. Who has not, in imagination, passed the narrow channel which separates us from the continuous series of provinces and empires, still redolent of life, till we reach the verge of the active world, and stand on the threshold of the visible abyss, constituted by wilder. nesses and deserts? And who has paused, in thought, before the strange scenes thus presented to his fancy, and not felt that he must go on, and pursue his imaginary journey across the barren plains, leading, perhaps, to the very limits of the path which it is assigned for man, under present dispensations, to traverse? We confess an intense sympathy with such men as Mungo Park, Clapperton, Denham, the Landers', and others, who have dared to encounter the strange perils of the waste howling wilderness. But the narratives which they have given us have wanted one important element of usefulness; that is, the historical element. This should never be lost sight of, either by travellers themselves, or by those who read their writings. Nothing can ever concern mankind so much as the history of their own race. Every mark of a human footstep which can be discovered on the shore of eternity, is of infinite consequence to him who has to struggle, as every man has in his own individuality, with the wants and perils of a sort of Robinson Crusoe solitude. Now, it is one of the characteristic features of Mr. Bartlett's book, that he has never lost sight of historical tradition. He wisely chose for his adventurous course an historical (1) "Forty Days in the Desert, on the Track of the Israelites: or, A Journey from Cairo, by Wady Feiran, to Mount Sinai and Petra." By the Author of "Walks about Jerusalem." London: Arthur Hall & Co. Paternoster Row. These were path, and he has, both as an artist and a traveller, fulfilled his mission. The fine earnest-minded men of whom we have spoken, as penetrating the depths of the African deserts, merit profound admiration for the species of heroism by which they were animated. They hoped, on the one side, to solve grand geographical problems, and, on the other, to open a new road for civilization and commerce. noble objects, and such as might well win for the traveller a name among the benefactors of his race. But as far as the higher and richer sympathies of our hearts are concerned, we owe a deeper debt of gratitude to the bold wanderer who, urged on by the spirit of inquiry, patiently explores the scenes of an antiquity, the form and character of which we are ever wishing to bring before us. The desert, or wilderness, in which the ancient Israelites passed their forty years of probation, is unquestionably one of those historic sites, which appeal most powerfully to our feelings when excited by the recollections of the past. In that desert, the first great moral code given to mankind was applied to the government of an infant nation. There the discipline of Divine providence, with all the mighty instruments at its disposal, was employed for the training of a people in the loftiest course of heroic enterprize ever opened to the human spirit. Hence, not a chapter can be found in the history of our race, the illustration of which we should more desire than that of this at the hands of an earnest and accomplished traveller. ages A vast change has taken place of late years in the study of Biblical topography. Instead of the implicit credence given to tradition in fixing the localities of great events, inquiries have been instituted according to the strictest rules of evidence, and scarcely a spot can now be pointed out in the wide range of Scripture topography, which, having for been viewed as the actual scene of some memorable occurrence, has not been deprived by one writer or the other of its ancient honour. We have ourselves but little doubt that, in the greater number of instances, the sites pointed out of old were really those which had a right to be distinguished. There is, however, a large field open to legitimate discussion. Some of the obscurities of Scripture geography increase the difficulty of historical interpretation. We may well be content, therefore, to bear with the violence occasionally done to our faith in the early traditional topography, when the result will probably be a clear and satisfactory system of Biblical geography, established on sufficient evidence, and enabling us to follow with confidence all the main lines marked by the progress and development of Divine dispensations. The author of the volume before us set out on his journey with the enthusiasm proper to such an undertaking; and he has published the account of his arduous tour from a wish to give somewhat more of distinctness to the route of the Israelites than is to be found in the celebrated work of Laborde; to afford a fuller description of the beautiful valley of Feiran, the most romantic spot, it is said, in the Arabian peninsula; of Mount Serbal, regarded by some distinguished writers as the real Sinai; and, lastly, of Petra, "that extraordinary rock-hewn capital of Edom, which, by its singular wildness, even yet seems, beyond any other place, to thrill the imagination, and awaken the love of adventure." The volume will be read with delight by two very different classes of readers. Regarding it merely as a book of travels, it may fairly be pronounced one of the most interesting in our language. Mr. Bartlett describes the scenes which he visited with exquisite feeling and ability. No feature is wanting to enable the reader to see what he is looking for with "the eyes of the understanding :" and there is an earnestness in the sentiments with which the descriptions are combined which recommends the whole most powerfully to our hearts. Take, as an illustration of these remarks the following passage. It refers to an evening spent in the valley of Feiran, near the ruined city of that name : "I descended from these ruinous chapels into the valley, and clambered up into the area of the small city of Feiran. The principal buildings, probably monastic, range along the brink of the cliff, overlooking the valley-a beautiful site. Near the centre of the city are a few scattered capitals belonging to the church, and its last vestiges. The shades of evening were fast falling as I sat upon a block of stone in this area, and looked around, in the perfect stillness, upon the prostrate walls of the city, and the surrounding mountains, with their fallen chapels and ascetic caverns. There is something mournful, almost awful, indeed, in thus beholding the memorials of an obliterated Christianity, however corrupt or superstitious; here at least once arose the thrilling hymn of praise; and these dark and void cells had once a human interest, and once were irradiated with the heaven-directed hopes and ecstatic visions of the forlorn recluses. . . . If ever I wished that certain of my friends could by some magic process peep down upon me, in my desert wanderings, it was on the night after I returned to my tent. The last red light of day had faded, and given place to the silvery radiance of the moon. Her orb rose grandly above the eastern peaks of the Serbal; meanwhile the Arabs, crouching in the adjoining thickets, had kindled a fire, which glaring up into the palm-groves, lit up from beneath their fan-like branches, every spire glittering in the ruddy illumination with a most magical splendour. I wandered away through the groves, to revel in the strange effects thus produced among their tangled alleys by the fitful play of the flames, and the flitting to and fro of the figures; then followed down the spring till beyond the reach of their influence, and where all was again lying in the still, calm moonlight-the rivulet, the rocky altar, the hoary walls of old Feiran, and the solemn amphitheatre of mountains, which enclose this oasis of beauty from the world beyond. A spiritual presence seemed brooding over the scene, and filled the heart with a deep but uneasy bliss. It was too profound, too wonderful, to be enough enjoyed: it seemed as if I could have wandered for ever about this enchant ing ground. Suffice it to say, that one night and its impressions were worth my whole journey." In many respects, Mr. Bartlett's volume would form a good guide-book, and we have little doubt but that, in some few years, it will be found in the hands of tourists, leaving Italy and Greece behind them, and "The desert," he states, "between Cairo and Suez is so much relieved of its loneliness and peril by the establishment of the overland route, with its numerous influence of civilization. stations, that as yet one feels within the reach and The surface of the waste is, for the whole way, nearly level, or slightly undulating. The soil firm gravel, with occasional sand. The marks of wheels are curiously intermingled with and the half-eaten carcase of the old carrier of the the numerous camel tracks formed by the caravans, desert is seen side by side with a broken-down modern omnibus. One station is hardly passed before another comes in sight, and thus the desert seems cheated of its emphatically the most wearisome. For the whole way wildness. Yet we found this portion of our route there is no object of the slightest interest. The stations, glittering afar off in the clear atmosphere, seem nearer than they are, and provokingly recede at our approach." The mention of stations, with the account which follows of the noble steamer from Bombay, plying her way up the solitary gulf, cleaving the very waters of the miraculous passage, and casting anchor beyond the shoals of Suez;" and the subsequent allusion to a railway across the desert, all tend to show the probability of the near approach of those days when an ordinary measure of time and personal energy will suffice to carry inquiring men from the banks of the Thames to those of the Nile, and from the shores of that old historic stream to Serbal and Sinai. We have remarked that Mr. Bartlett's book will please two different classes of readers. It abounds in striking, interesting details of personal toil and observation; but it has a higher aim than that of merely furnishing amusement. French, German, and American travellers, have united strenuously in endeavouring to determine to what mountain the venerable name of Sinai is properly due. The only two which can claim this honour are the Sinai of tradition, or the range to which it belongs, and Mount Serbal. Dr. Lepsius on the one hand, and Dr. Robinson on the other, may be regarded as representing the two parties, if such they may be called, engaged in this controversy. Dr. Lepsius contends strongly for Mount Serbal. His arguments are mainly founded on the fact, that while the neighbourhood of Sinai, or the mountain generally so called, is singularly desolate, and offers no supply for the wants of an enormous 'multitude, that of Serbal is furnished with numerous water-courses, and abundant evidences of fertility. In reference to the theory advanced by Dr. Lepsius, Mr. Bartlett remarks: "There can be no doubt that Moses was personally well acquainted with the peninsula, and had even probably dwelt in the vicinity of Wady Feiran during his banishment from Egypt But even common report, as at the present day, would point to this favoured locality as the only fit spot in the whole range of the Desert for the supply, either with water or such provisions as the country afforded, of the Israelitish host. On this ground alone, then, he would be led irresistibly to fix upon it when meditating a long sojourn. This consideration acquires additional force when we call to mind the supply of wood and other articles requisite for the construction of the tabernacle, and which can only be found readily at Wady Feiran; and also that it was, in all probability, from early times, a place visited by trading caravans. But if Moses were even unacquainted previously with the resources of the place, he must have passed it on his way from the sea-coast through the interior of the mountains; and it is inconceivable that he should have refused to avail himself of its singular advantages for his purpose, or that the host would have consented, without a murmur, to quit, after so much privation, this fertile and well-watered oasis for new perils in the barren desert; or that he should, humanly speaking, have been able either to compel them to do so, or afterwards to fix them in the inhospitable, unsheltered position of the monkish Mount Sinai, with the fertile Feiran but one day's long march in their rear. Supplies of wood, and perhaps of water, must, in that case, have been brought from the very spot they had but just abandoned. We must suppose that the Amalekites would oppose the onward march of the Israelites where they alone had a fertile territory worthy of being disputed, and from which Moses must, of necessity, have sought to expel them. If it be so, then, in this vicinity, and no other, we must look for Rephidim, from whence the Mount of God was at a very short distance. We seem thus to have a combination of circumstances, which are met with no where else, to certify that it was here that Moses halted for the great work he had in view, and that the scene of the law giving is here before our eyes in its wild and lonely majesty." This is ingenious reasoning, and therefore deserving attention. But is the probability which depends upon the fertility of the region to be weighed with the probability derived from tradition, so long continued that it almost assumes the character of his tory? We think not. A sceptic would overwhelm us with ridicule if we attempted to found an important argument on the supposition that a district which is fertile now was so some thousands of years ago. Yet this is, in reality, the main support of the opinion advocated by Dr. Lepsius and his followers. While, moreover, it is upon such slender grounds that their theory is constructed, there is an acknowledged objection to it, arising from the very nature of the locality-from circumstances which no lapse of time can be supposed to modify. And what is this objection? One, we should have imagined, sufficient to prevent any traveller from regarding Serbal as the true Sinai. There is absolutely no open space in the immediate neighbourhood of this mountain for the encampment of a vast multitude. Such is our author's own statement. eminence to which the monks have applied the name, but that known as Mount Horeb, at the northern extremity of the group, of which the Sinai of tradition forms the southern limit. After a long examination of the whole surrounding region, Dr. Robinson and his companions ascended the mount, which appears to have a so much better claim than Feiran to the sacred character assigned it. "The whole plain er-Râhah," he says, "lay spread out beneath our feet, with the adjacent wadys and mountains; while wady esh-Sheikh on the right, and the recess on the left, both connected with and opening broadly from er-Râhah, presented an area which serves nearly to double that of the plain. Our conviction was strengthened that here, or on some one of the adjacent cliffs, was the spot where the Lord descended in fire,' and proclaimed the law. Here lay the plain where the whole congregation might be assembled; here was the mount that could be approached and touched, if not forbidden; and here the mountain brow, where alone the lightnings and the thick cloud would be visible, and the thunders and the voice of the trump be heard, when the Lord' came down in the sight of all the people upon Sinai."" Thus, though fixing on a different part of the Sinai range of mountains, to that commonly regarded as the Dr. Robinson still keeps within the circle of tradition. scene of the sublime event of which we are speaking, Few writers, indeed, are bolder than this American traveller in their inquiries or suggestions; yet, bold as he is, we find him in many of the most material points paying homage to the general, if not the particular truth, of old topography. Mr. Bartlett has made this question of the identity of Serbal with the Sinai of the Scriptures an important feature of his book. We could not, therefore, pass it by without notice. It is one of the portions of the work also which is likely to prove especially interesting to an increasing class of readers. But the really best parts of his work are those in which, instead of entering into discussion, he tells us, in his picturesque and eloquent language, what he saw and what he felt in his far wanderings. His present publication fully answers the purpose for which it was written. The account of Petra, and the descriptions of some familiar scenes, of Cairo, of the pyramids, &c., are well deserving a perusal; and we can honestly recommend the book to the students of either university, who may want materials for a prize poem on any of the localities or monuments which it mentions. THE HAUNTED MAN AND THE GHOST'S BARGAIN.! Now, if we refer to the American professor's celebrated "Biblical Researches in Palestine, &c." we shall find an account of this subject, which will show at once that the neighbourhood of Sinai, properly so called, is still likely to retain its honours, as long as ONCE upon a time-in the good old days about ingenious theory weighs lightly in the balance with which embryo M.P.s rave to their tenantry on the the highest class of probabilities. We must, how-jocund morn that sees them twenty-one-the literature ever, remind the reader, that by the term Sinai is of Christmas was confined chiefly to effusions of a meant not a single mountain, but a mountain range, and that the mount on which the law was given, was not, according to Dr. Robinson, the particular (1) "The Haunted Man and the Ghost's Bargain; a Fancy for Christmas Time." By Charles Dickens. London: Bradbury & Evans, 11, Bouverie Street. 1848. |