sionally upon its mellow orb, though black, are a frame more fitted for the voluptuous smiles of a Kharem than the fierce forward glances of a camp. This is the habitual expression; but there are moments when from this sleep burst up, like roused lions, some of the fellest and mightiest passions of the human heart. The rest of the features are in unison; but they owe the merit to the Circassian and Georgian modifications of the Tartar race, much more than to the race itself. There is nothing in the semi-Grecian nose and the finely chiselled modelling of the mouth, of the bluff blunt lineaments of the Nomades of Scythia. Their voices too are admirable; and their closely-vowelled language, so well adapted to such voices, and so contrasted to the broad, sprawling guttural of the Arab, throw an additional refinement over the entire man, which is not always justified by the reality. You scarcely can hear their whisperings, without fancying yourself transported to some high-cushioned divan, whose dim-illuminated alcoves, painted windows, the drowsy dripping of fountains, and the swinging of tall immemorial palms, give a kind of gentle key to the whole conversation. Nothing depresses or rejoices the Turk overmuch: if wretched, he can devour his own heart in silence; if happy, there is no unseemly exultation—he spreads out his existence, like calm waters over a green sward, forgets the past, and allows the future to take care of itself and of those who are destined to belong to it. Thus he retrenches two-thirds of existence, and enjoys moderately the remainder. A Greek would prefer a rack to repose; and Heaven to him, without a Heaven beyond it, would be a sort of Hell. Give him, like the devil in the legend, enough to do, and you may rule him. You may do as much for the Turk-but then you must let him sleep.

We now approached the Imperial city, and once more landed at the Tophana, in despite of the plague, which had just commenced. Only six corpses per day had been yet carried out through the gate of Hadrianople ; and this, after all, was but mere nibbling-a little trial of the scythe before it was lifted up in sober earnest to strike.* Our European servants took excellent care of the skirts of their coats; and though none of us used the sword, like one of our friends in a similar peril at Alexandria, to keep off the crowd and the contagion, we were not unmindful of sticks. After avoiding thus a variety of ambiguous physiognomies in the narrow lanes of Galata and Pera, which are as if all the scavengers had long since been carried off at one fell swoop, we at last arrived at the mosque of the Dancing Dervishes, who that day were to dance divine service for the public. The enlightened Sultan Selim, who encouraged printing, and fell a victim to the intrigues of Kalligraphy,† had a predilection for this pious institution, and believed it went as far as most of our chapter-schools and parish churches in Ireland for the orthodox education of his people. Nothing brings people so much together as dancing; and from thence comes communication, and morality, and the knowledge of good and evil, and every other blessing which such knowledge usually brings with it. The mosque itself was in the trimest state which its friends could desire, and shone forth in all the gloss and glory of unrivalled favouritism. Red and blue, gold and green, every cameleon hue which a protegé of the Ulema could pretend to, was lavished upon its façade; and the roof was ornamented with minarets, and sub-minarets, and demi-minarets, which even the Pagoda at Brighton might condescend to envy. This seems to intimate a goodly share of the temporalities; but though there is no vestry act in operation here, the repairs, with now and then a very proper squeeze of a rich Greek (the Papist of the East), or the impromptu decapitation of a fat Armenian, go on prosperously and religiously enough. We entered the court, and then the mosque; after some preliminary observations on the tomb of the Pasha, Count Bonval, which we met in

"Until you see a thousand pass nightly through the gate of Hadrianople," says the Turk, "the Frank may fear, but the plague is not at Constantinople."

The writers, of whom there is a large bazaar at Constantinople, were injured by the press at Scutari, and amongst the first to revolt.

the way-a convert according to the Turks, and a pervert according to the Christians, but, in any case, a personage whom I should recommend to a manufacturer of Oriental romance, as just that sort of saint (in case he wants one) who is most likely à faire fortune, in the present day. We found some difficulty in passing, and took our place as quietly as we could at the door, conscious that we were but Infidel dogs at best, and wishing to avoid the ceremony of taking off our shoes, and perhaps losing them, and fearing to incur the sneers of the faithful at our exceeding deafness to such a call. The spectators were numerous, but select; the mosque large, and admirably adapted both to dancing and praying. A double gallery, fretted with all the rich tracery of the East, well filled with all the faith and devotion of the west part of the town (for it was attended, like our Asylums or Chapels of ease, by every thing of ton or sanctity at Constantinople) occupied the entire range of the walls, with the exception only of the part allotted to the tribune of the flute-players. These gentlemen had already begun mingling their notes, in a sort of celestial bullfinch manner, and preluding to the Elysian measures and whimsical ecstasies which were about to follow. The intermediate space, or body of the mosque, was well boarded, and as glassy smooth as the incessant exercise of these acts of piety could make it. It was yet unoccupied, except by a species of gentleman usher, who now and then crossed it, to see whether there was no stone or nail against which the pious celebrator, in the whirlwind of his piety, might chance to dash his foot, and so become the sport of the natural man, and the despised of the unbeliever and ungodly. I confess all these preparations gave me high notions of the service; and, conjoined with the reverential whispers of the congregation, greatly excited my devotion or impatience. In a few moments forth came the officiators, and a more Bethesda-looking array of godliness, a more perfect or unflawed service of chosen vessels, as far as appearance went, and I have nothing to do but with appearances, can scarcely be imagined even by the newly converted sinner. Forth they paced without fear or reproach on tiptoe, mincing their steps in a sort of nimini-primini manner as they went, which was intended to designate, I presume, the comings and goings, the offs and ons of the flatus. Their arms were crossed upon their breasts in the most penetrating manner; their eyes were closed penitentially against the abominations of this outward world, and their white feet, peeping from their sandals, modestly crept in and out, like the mice of the poet, from the folds of their long and heavy drapery. Their dress was conventual, ascetic: a very full tunic, of fawn-coloured cloth, girt prophet-like round their loins with a leathern belt, descended to their ankles; from their head arose, of the same colour as their tunic, a long conical felt cap, typical, I am informed, of the "horn" of the Scripture. Their faces were as sallow or fawn-coloured as all the rest, and seemed to have suffered much in the good cause from prayer, fasting, or dancing. The flutes accompanied them as they proceeded; but, with the best intentions possible, I could not elevate myself to the mysticism of their music, and profanely likened it to the preparatory notes of our own orchestras. It is so artfully managed that there is no appearance of art, and, like Count Palin's interpretation of hieroglyphics, you may begin at the beginning, end or middle, just as you please,-it is all perfectly alike. After two or three rounds, which were peaceful enough, and the increase of their devotion had grown more perceptible, the two chiefs with great unction led off in what might be termed, in the language of men, a sort of pas de deux. This was instantly followed up by a kind of response in another part of the line, like the taking up the second verse of a Psalm; and I could hear two or three aged Turks near me groaning inwardly with ghostly consolation at the sight. This was soon exchanged for a more rapturous movement: the pas de deux yielded to a waltz, and then came a second and a third, and a fourth and a fifth, until the whole convent took up, as in chorus, the service, and went waltzing round, one after the other, like the tourbillons of Des Cartes, in search of mutual adhesion, through the whole circuit of the temple. But those who should wrong this

spiritual waltz by any comparison with its worldly corruption, would very much wrong the gravity and dignity of Mahomedanism, and in any other country but Turkey would bring about his ears half-a-dozen serious tenshilling pamphlets in reply. The Dervish waltz is, in the first instance, single, and therefore not likely to become a favourite amongst the ungodly ;next, it is all pirouette-a feat not to be performed except by the elect. By their sides the most accomplished disciples and teachers of our worldly theatres are mere cracked vessels-called, but not chosen-mere human imitators of the children of grace. By degrees, the music of the flutes grew more unearthly and unintelligible. We who are deaf, according to the philosophers, to the music of the spheres, cannot of course have a very good ear for what must so much resemble it, or disentangle with any great chance of success the interweavings and crossings, the warp and woof of this very thirdheaven kind of melody. I admired it, and could not understand it,—and therefore with the rest of the congregation, faithful or unfaithful, admired it and was edified the more. As the waltzing went on, the wind gradually inflated the fawn-coloured tunics, and at last to such a degree that the head of the Dervish was alone visible: this looked high-church-like and pharisaical, and displeased me; but the eyes, I observed, continued still closed to the vanities without. The probation was now nearly over, and the triumph fast approaching: a solemn smile of self-worthiness began to radiate about the pale features, dimples rose and vanished round the silent mouth, the whole interior man seemed calmly glorying at his successful achievement, and dimly visioned to the spectators their gradual approaches, waltz after waltz, and wheel after wheel, to the paradises and sealed gardens of the Prophet. The head was then gently raised, as if accepting the invitation of the blackeyed Houris-the arms were rapturously extended-the pirouette became more impetuous, and their devotion seemed every instant at the very utmost,-when the Dervish Bashi, like a prudent parent, for a moment interfered, and came between the mortal and Heaven. It was right the ecstasy should be economized, and the faithful edified, in return for their contributions. But the interruption was short; in a few moments the solemnities recommenced, and the whole convent was in motion once again. The fulness of divine communion was now upon them; the flutes grew wilder and shriller ineffable; pleasures flowed down upon the spirit ; an uncontrollable joy seized and wrestled with them; they had reached the cumulus of ecstasy; godly dews shone upon their foreheads, and inebriate and reeling under the burthen of divine enjoyment, they staggered and swooned away, one after the other, into the arms of the admiring attendants, who carried them off with a smile of triumph to their respective cells, where they slept, smoked, and praised God and the Dervish Bashi, for his vouchsafings, &c. to his dancers, until evening.

The ceremony was scarcely over when I looked up to the gallery, anxious to see what impression it had produced on the ladies. My home experience had led me to conclude they would have been most prominent in offering their tender sympathies upon so important an occasion. But, alas! in Turkey there are no she-saints-in this country, ladies have no souls to dámn or save; and men must go as they can to Heaven, a very difficult task, without them.

In leaving the mosque, I mused much on the superior religious civilization of these misnamed barbarians. I thought then, as I think now, that a Dancing missionary would be of the utmost service in such a country of chaos and backsliding, for instance, as Ireland, to bring all things once more to regularity and harmony, and perfect peace. Who could reasonably resist Mr. Pope and Mr. M'Guire in an amicable pas de deux? or not feel vanquished by such potent waltzers, if we are to judge from their polemical prowess, as Doctor Doyle, or Captain Gordon? Instead of wordy controversies, which attack so many and strike none, we should have only the gentle discords of an Evangelical flute. The Rotunda would return to its old and more reasonable usage; men would learn the graces as well as the ener

gies of proselytism, the "suaviter in modo" would at length be married to the "fortiter in re," and whole counties seduced by a religious ball, or the distribution of three or four thousand "serious" quadrilles, with ten times more pleasure, and quite as much certainty, as by the bales of Lord Roden and Farnham's Bibles. As long as we have a Doctor Magee, we could never want for the most accomplished Dervish Bashi in existence; and when we see that so much has been done in Turkey, why should we despair of Ireland? The Irish are naturally a light and dancing people, and a second Reformation, which would address itself to their feet instead of their heads, would under such teachers be sure to prosper. There would be a little trouble at first, indeed, in bringing over schismatics, such as jig-dancers, to the more serious mood of "flutes and soft recorders," but with a little burning of bag-pipes and pipers, this also might in time be effected: at all events the experiment is less expensive than many others, and where every one else is allowed their chance of failure, I see no reason why I alone should be excluded? Ireland is the great country of experiment; the subject for all dissectors: indeed, if we are to judge by men's actions as well as words, it is now agreed upon all hands that she is good for nothing else, just as they keep a dog in the Grotto del Cane at Naples, whom they stifle and bring to life, kill and unkill twenty times per day, for the pleasure of visitors and the enlightenment and moralizing of travelling philosophers. It may be objected that the scheme has yet done little in rendering the Moslim less ferocious; but I can only answer-are they not more religious? Besides, as we are speaking not of the natural but of the chosen man, the objection does not lie. As to the novelty, let it be remembered, the Reformation itself, and archbishoprics, were once innovations; and we, who a few years ago laughed at steam-packets, are soon to travel in steam-coaches. A liberal mind will regard these things in a large and European manner; and if Christian Jews from Amsterdam work miracles, why should we not expect as many and as good from Dancers from Turkey.

It was with these reflections, and pleased if not converted, I took my leave, and immediately set out, like many other converts, for the camp of the enemy. I crossed over to Scutari, and arrived late at the mosque of their rivals. The ceremony had not yet begun. I thought myself in fortune, and with reason. If the Dancing Dervishes had nearly put me asleep, their brethren, the Howlers, very soon awoke me.

POINTS OF THE COMPASS.

"I HAVE invariably observed," says the lively and picturesque author of "Letters from the Levant,"" that the farther we progress towards the south in any country, the situation of females becomes more deplorable and unhappy. In northern latitudes alone," continues the same writer, woman is the better half of creation: as we draw towards more genial climes, she gradually emerges into equality, inferiority, a deprivation of her rights and dignity; and at last, in the vicinity of the line, a total denial of a reasoning principle, or an immortal essence, which might enjoy in another world those privileges of which she is tyrannically debarred in this." The author then proceeds to illustrate his assertion, by citing Norway and Sweden as geographical specimens of countries where women enjoy the highest mental privileges, and Palestine and Syria as the spots marked by their lowest degradation.

It is not a little extraordinary how many of our most important discoveries owe their existence to chance. Every body knows the anecdote about Sir Isaac Newton and the apple; Doctor Jenner and the Feb.-VOL. XXII. NO. LXXXVI.

M

milkmaid; John Bunyan and drunken Perkins, &c. &c. But every body does not know the anecdote of Sir Peter Pontop, who found the bottom of a coal-mine by chance. I proceed, therefore, to relate it. Sir Peter had been quarrelling with one of his workmen, on the day previous to the catastrophe I am narrating, relative to wages. There are two modes of descending into coal-pits. The usual way is to be wound down in a machine; but they to whom the exit and entrance are matters of custom, content themselves in descending by grasping a rope, which communicates to a counteracting pulley. The weight of the individual thus carries him downward without dislocation. Sir Peter, on the day in question, adopted the latter expedient, as usual, in utter darkness. Judge of his horror, when, on reaching the extremity of his journey, he found that his feet failed to touch the ground. He instantly thought that the workman with whom he had quarrelled, had in revenge cut short the rope. He screamed and bawled till he was hoarse, but all the operatives had adjourned to their dinner. At length his strength failed him he let go his hold, expecting to be dashed to atoms in the unfathomable. abyss, and found that he had been for a full half-hour screaming about three inches from the ground. Here was a chance discovery which nettled Sir Peter sorely: insomuch, that he actually felt half angry with himself for not having been precipitated some hundred feet, according to his reasonable expectation.

Equally casual with the foregoing, was the incident which caused me to discover the truth of what the ingenious author of "Letters from the Levant" has averred; namely, that women are operated upon topographically by climate. My brother Tom married a decent sort of a young woman. Her father was a reputable hardwareman in Blackmanstreet, Southwark and Tom, who was and is his partner in trade, upon his marriage, took a country-house a little beyond Camberwell, closely adjoining to a public house, which used to be called the Foxunder-the-Hill. Alas! how things are altered in that neighbourhood! In the good old times, about thirty years ago, that tavern stood in comparative solitude; and footpads and highwaymen would make many a pretty penny there after dusk. But now-a-days it is all watched and lighted with gas, and people pass and repass at midnight in perfect security-sad changes! Tom was, in the main, a good-natured sort of a fellow; but he seemed to me to treat his wife quite like a Navarino bashaw. She brought him his great coat when he got into his gig; held the umbrella in walking; called him Mr. B.; ate the gizzard wings of chickens; turned Radical in compliment to her spouse's politics; and actually went the length of justifying the Thames Tunnel, Tom holding fifteen shares in that watery excavation. All this subordination was Greek to me, till happening to alight on the "Letters from the Levant," "I'll be shot," exclaimed I to myself, "if I have not hit upon it. It is all owing to climate: Camberwell lies south of London, and Mrs. Tom (as we call her in the family) lies in a latitude of subjection: her reasoning principle and immortal essence' are sadly in abeyance."

My theory was, at no distant period from my utterance of the above, put to the test, by the removal of the Tom household to another latitude. The lease of their house near the Fox expired, and the landlord