And with deedless years decay'd and I this doubtful list will prove." "The muleteers, who had preferred this devious path to the high road, to avoid the Dellis, were now alarmed at the frequent visits of the Turkmans. They described me to them as an officer of Chappan Oglou's retinue, employed to communicate with the English fleet on the coast; an explanation which appeared to satisfy them; and fortunately I was able to support that character. It is to be observed that Chappan Oglou has a large military force at his disposal, and administers justice with a rod of iron. His vengeance pursues, on eagle-wing, the slightest transgression against his authority. Our precautions at night were redoubled; and I divided the time into two watches, which I ordered my servant to share with me; but the disposition to sleep having speedily got the better of his vigilance, a pipe, although carefully placed under the carpet on which I myself slept, was stolen unperceived before morning. "The dress of the Turkmans consists of a farge striped and fringed turban, fastened in a manner peculiar to themselves; or sometimes of a simple high-crowned cap of white felt. A vest, usually white, is thrown over the shirt; the Aga's superadd one of cloth; and in general, and in proportion to their rank and wealth, they approximate to the dress of the capital. But the common people wear a short jacket of various colours. A cincture is indispensably required, in which are fixed an enormous yatagan, and a pistol. Many of them wear half boots, red or yellow, laced to the leg: the dress of the women is a coloured vest, and a piece of white cotton cloth on the head, covering part of the face. They are masculine and active, performing all the harder kinds of labour required by the family. Their features are good, but not pleasing. The men are generally muscular, and well-proportioned; tall, straight, and active. Their teeth are white and regular; their eyes are often ex are at present most of them in Egypt with the Vizir. "The staple commodity of Antioch is well known to be silk." "A great quantity of grapes is produced in the neigbourhood. They are used for food, converted into Dipse, (a kind of jelly made of the juice of grapes,) or dried as raisins. Little wine is prepared; but what I have tasted there was perfectly well flavoured; it may be kept any length of time, and is improved by a period of seven or eight years. It is strong, and perhaps rather too sweet." The following is a more detailed account of a Turkish marriage than we remember to have read elsewhere. "It is well known that the usages of the country do not admit of the intended bride being seen by the husband before marriage. The woman may, however, more easily satisfy her curiosity regarding the person of the man; though even that is not always possible. This state of restraint gives rise to several practices, tending to facilitate mutu al approximation. Among them are to be enumerated the existence of professed match makers, who make the occupation profitable to themselves, in a manner not difficult to be understood. The excellent qualities of the future bride and bridegroom are repeated to the persons concerned, of course with parties be credulous or inexperienced, a congreat exaggeration. Accordingly, if the nection takes place, which, in many cases, is terminated by divorce in a few days afterwards. "Some account of the forms which are observed, with little variation, in matrimonial contracts, may not be wholly uninteresting. Each of the parties chuses a wakil, or procurator, and two witnesses, who are to agree before the Imâm, or priest, on the sum to be given by the man, towards furnishing at least one room of the house with cushions, carpets, and other necessary articles; and likewise on the Nikah, which is not paid immediately, but is demandable by the woman in case of a divorce. The paper, setting forth the particulars of this agreement, is drawn up and signed by the witnesses; hence the married woman is called kitabié, wife by writing. The Imam receives a proper present; often a benish, or outer vesture: the other parties are gratified by presents of smaller value. From this time to the day of marriage, a fête is celebrated; and the house of the bridegroom is kept open to every perstrangers are allowed to enter. Sometimes son of the mahhal, or parish; and even dishonest persons gain admission, and carry off such portable articles as are exposed to their depredations; they have been known to slip off the amber mouth pieces of the pipes, and escape with them. "The common expenses of a marriage, in Constantinople, costs a man, on a moderate Thus, to a person of estimate, a full year of his income, and sometimes more. middle rank, they will amount to 2000 or 2500 piastres. "When the day of marriage arrives, the bridegroom is conducted to the apartment of THE LITERARY GAZETTE, AND the bride, by the Imâm, and the rest of the company; the Imam places his back against the door, and commences a kind of prayer, to which, when terminated, the company present reply, Amên; after which they all retire to their own houses. from the prevalent credulity which is com- the most feeble and negative that can be "The bridegroom knocks at the door three times, which is then opened by the Yeni chatûn, or bride maid, who replies to the Salam aleikum' of the bridegroom, con-it originated." ducts him to the bride, and puts her right hand in his. She then quits the room to bring in the suffra, or eating table, which is placed near at hand; furnished commonly with a roasted fowl and some other trifles. 46 Cyprus is unequalled, except perhaps by one. that which is prepared for the table of the ing the two last reigns in the Ottoman empire. "The bread made in private houses in ciation of the current coinage is generally Among the little and ineffectual expedi ents adopted in a falling empire, the depreSultan, at Constantinople. It is composed It is superfluous to add, that none of the curThis has been rapidly progressive durflour is divided into three parts, to obtain very various, even within the limits of it. of what is called “ the kind which is proper for manipulation. The fendoukli and mahbûl are exchangeable fiore di farina." The rency goes out of the territory: its value is The first separated is the coarse and husky in some parts of Asia for a less number of part; the next, the white impalpable pow-paras than in the capital; in Aleppo for a der; after which operation remains the fiore greater; but their highest value in exchange di farina, which is neither very finely pul- is in Kahira: in the Upper Egypt they pass, verized, nor remarkably white, and is by far for something less. Foreign coinage, partithe smallest quantity of the whole mass.cularly Venetian sequins, Dutch and ImpeThis is found to contain the purest part of the wheat, and to make the finest bread." the Othman Empire, a view of which the Our last examples relate to the decline of author takes, and instances among others the following principal causes : "While she is absent, the husband tries to uncover his wife's face, which is overspread with a long veil; to the removal of which the established rules of decorum require that she should offer some resistance. He presents to her some ornament, generally of jewellery, which she accepts after proper hesitation; and at length consents to abandon her veil. They sit down at table, and the husband divides the fowl with his hands, offering a portion to the woman, which she receives. Much time is not consumed in eating, and the sutra being removed, they wash. The Yeni chatûn then brings the bed, which she spreads on the floor. She takes out the bride to her mother and the women, who are in the next room, where she is undressed; after which the Yeni cha-dictions conceded under the names of Mo-acid probably enters into the wash used for tun brings her back to her husband, places contributed to the ruin of the Turkish pro- catta and Iltezim hold a conspicuous place: "The last ceremony is that of the bride are curious "There is a kind of fine porcelain, or China-ware, much esteemed in the East, wretched system of husbandry; and thus, rial gold, and Imperial and Spanish silver, quin passed for a sum much exceeding what tioch and Aleppo, in 1801, the Venetian sean equal weight of pure gold would have are sought after with great avidity. In Anmeans are used by which a better colour is contains one fourth part alloy; but some given to it than that of other gold; marine been exchanged for. The gold of Selim III. this purpose. Its indented edges are produced by filing, and not by milling. The even the paras have been depreciated during the present reign. I was disappointed in tain much more than a third of that metal; nominal silver, it is believed, does not contails respecting the mint. An English guinea, endeavouring to obtain more satisfactory dein 1801, was worth seventeen piastres and a half. receipts for the Miri, in Anatolia, were within the last two centuries given in a manner similar to the Exchequer tallies among us. "It is perhaps worth remarking, that the The intendant of a pashalik, at the beginning of the year, caused a number of small sticks to be prepared, exactly resembling each other. One was given to the person of whom the Miri was demanded, and a notch was cut for every payment he made of it. The whole being paid, the second stick was delivered into his hands, which served as an acquittance." lecting the revenues adds to the above evils; and our readers will be astonished to learn, that with all this dreadful system for drainThe oppressive mode of farming and coling the last para from so great a population mated at more than 90 millions of piastres, or six millions sterling ! the entire revenue of the Porte is not estiof some of the finest regions on the earth, Poems. By Bernard Barton. London, 1820. 8vo, pp. 288. take so early a notice of it, as much on account of its merit, as of the rather lished on Monday; and we are led to This volume will, we believe, be pub of "Storied urn or animated bust " peculiar circumstance of its being the laud the simplicity of these receptacles As best befits the quiet dwelling-place When the last trump shall sound, the trem- Of tombs, of temples, pyramids be riven, Heaven! The next piece is entitled "the Valable feeling and art in impressing local ley of Fern," and displays consider to the memory of those whose resurrection shall be their great memorial. And all the dead arise before the hosts of We differ from the author's sentiment on this subject; and not only love the selfish gratification of adorning the able Quaker Poet, Scott of Amwell, was graves of those dear to us while living, upon his death-bed, some sour bigots but are persuaded that many a volatile, exhorted him to repent of his sin of if not guilty soul, has been reclaimed to poetry. He died and made no sign: and in that world to which the enthu-affairs and the great business of eternity, a sense of the instability of human siasm of poetic inspiration is the nearest by such funereal documents. Let us, approach in this,...in that heaven where nevertheless, suffer Mr. B. to speak for the hymning of praises is the highest himself, which he does in these eloquent enjoyment of blest spirits; he now, we lines... firmly trust, enjoys the reward of a wellspent life, refined, exalted, and improved, by one of the purest studies of mankind. It has been said, that there was something in Quaker doctrines inconsistent with the Bardic character; and it has been held by many, that in Quaker habits and manners there was an insuperable barrier to poetical cultivation. If these opinions, have not been overthrown before, the author now under review has set them at rest for ever. He has shown us fancy in a sober brown garb, tenderness in a broad beaver, and nature in a staid demeanour. We confess that we are so well pleased with this general beauty belonging to his work, that we may not be quite impartial judges of its defects. But more fastidious criticism will set us right if we err on the side of candour; and we will rely on the ensuing quotations and remarks, to rescue us from the suspicion of undue favour. The publication, we think, extends to a greater length than is expedient, considering the modern fashion; and if Friend Barton had limited his excursion to a moiety of its contents, he would have assumed a more popular form, without endangering the fame which his compositions may obtain. His claims to extracts are, however, increased by this circumstance; and, intending to allow them as far as our limits permit, we shall not occupy their room by further preface. Some feeling dedicatory verses are addressed to Maria Hack, whose literary talents are warmly appreciated by the writer. He then, after a few brief introductory remarks in prose, enters upon his miscellaneous career with stanzas, burial supposed to be written in a ground of the Society of Friends. They And, therefore, would I never wish to see With due solemnity, was laid in earth; worth, At The dead to honour, or to soothe the living, From all the empty show of man's con- What worthier of memory's cherish'd hiving Aye! into depths, which reason must con- least mine owns them so, awful and fathom. imagery and beauty upon a landscape, the ideas of Quakers are now regulated certainly not intrinsically either imposing or beautiful. We know not how with regard to paintings; whether pic tion by any portion of that sect;...but if they are, we must say that Mr. Barton has exposed himself to some reproach for drawing a very sweet landscape. After several natural reflections, he thus writes...(reminding us, en passant, of Akenside)... tures continue to be held in abomina For the bright chain of being, though widely extended, In which Grandeur and Grace are cachantingly Unites all its parts in one beautiful whole; blended, Of which GOD is the Centre, the Light, and the Soul! And holy the hope is, and sweet the sensation, Which this feeling of union in solitude brings; It gives silence, a voice-and to calm conteinplation, Unseals the pure fountain whence happiness Then Nature,most lov'd in her loneliest recesses, We do not copy the remainder of the verse, from fear that a ludicrous thought which struck us may occur to others; and we are half ashamed of its intrusion, We know all we see in this beauteous creation, Is doom'd to dissolve, like some bright exha However enchanting its beauty may seem, lation, That dazzles, and fades in the morning's first beam. The gloom of dark forests, the grandeur of mountains, * The verdure of meads, and the beauty of flowers; The seclusion of valleys, the freshness of fountains, The sequester'd delights of the loveliest bowers: Nay, more than all these, that the might of old less! Yet, acknowledging this, it may be that the feelings Which these have awaken'd, the glimpses they've given, Then, be our burial-grounds, as should be- Combin'd with those inward and holy revealings come A simple, but a not unfeeling race. Let them appear, to outward semblance, dumb, That illumine the soul with the brightness of heaven, May still be immortal, and destin'd to lead us, Whom God hath instructed to worship him there, And convinc'd that his mercy will own it. The temple that Solomon built to his name, Now lives but in history's story; Extinguish'd long since is its altar's bright flame, And vanish'd each glimpse of its glory. But the Christian, made wise by a wisdom divine, Though all human fabrics may falter, Still finds in his heart a far holier shrine, Where the fire burns unquench'd on the altar! This may, we presume, be considered to be a genuine Quaker poem; and it is not on that account the more truly poetical. The author, in our opinion, is unfortunate in the measures which he has adopted in several of his compositions. They are like Burns'; and more congenial to light, or at the utmost, to common, than to grave subjects. "Meditations in Great Bealing's Church-yard," is in a much better style, possesses a pathetic tone of suitable melancholy and Then art thou such a spot as man might choose For still communion: all around is sweet, And calm, and soothing; when the light breeze woo8 The lofty lines that shadow thy retreat, Whose interlacing branches, as they meet, O'ertop, and almost hide the edifice They beautify; no sound, except the bleat Of innocent lambs, or notes which speak the bliss Of happy birds unseen. My spirit was not in the fittest mood, Such scene; and that, though now a dis- Though not abruptly could our sorrows cease, We felt that sorrow for ourselves alone; Not for the quiet dead, around whom there was thrown Calmness, as 'twere a canopy: the spirit Seem'd, like the prophet in his parting hour, (When he threw back, to him who was to inberit His gift, the mantle, as his richest dower,) To have left behind it somewhat of the power By which the o'ershadowing clouds of death were riven; So that, round those who gaz'd, they could not lower With rayless darkness; but a light was given Which made e'en tears grow bright: "'twas light from heaven!'' The subjoined Sonnet to "Winter," and Monody, will be found of similar merit. Thou hast thy beauties: sterner ones, I own, blown By hurrying winds across the troubled sky; Through leafless boughs, with ivy overgrown. Pensive, when softer breezes faintly sigh Thou hast thy decorations too; although To the loftier destiny God hath decreed us, Sensations too pure, and too holy to die. On this passage we have but one observation to offer, and it is equally applicable to every line in the book...the whole tends to the enlargement of the human faculties, to the moral amelioration, and to the everlasting happiness of the reader. Mr. B., among the crowd of modern poets who have sown poison with their flowers, and infected the effusions of their genius with active corruption, stands clear in his great account, and to the extent of his powers has contributed only to the weal of his fellow creatures. He, at least, may lay his hand on his heart, and say, "I have not abused God's gift." We pass over a good many pages of shorter poems, and select the following, as curious in many particulars, SILENT WORSHIP. Though glorious, O God! must thy temple have- On the day of its first dedication, seen On high, o'er the ark's holy station; And thy glory made Israel adore Thee: And by whom was that ritual for ever repeal'd? Not the cloud, but the brightness of heaven. way, O Lord! how to worship before thee; Not with shadowy forms of that earlier day, But in spirit and truth to adore thee! This, this is the worship the Saviour made known, When she of Samaria found him By the patriarch's well, sitting weary, alone, With the stillness of noon-tide around him. How sublime, yet how simple the homage he taught To her, who inquir'd by that fountain, For God is a Spirit! and they, who aright light, That spirit the Father approveth. And many that prophecy's truth can declare, Yes, thou, stern Death! art, after all, the Of thy tempestuous nights, when clouds are best And truest teacher, an unflattering one, The few last sands which linger in the glass, pass. But 'tis not thee we fear, if thou wert all; is much To wither up the nerves, the heart appal: Not the mere icy chillness of thy touch, Than any mere corporeal sense can own, bravest groan. For, wert thou all, in thee there is enough To touch us to the quick: to part with all Of strength and courage; but to feel the thrall This is indeed enough. I never stood But once beside a dying bed; and there Thou art austere : thy studded mantle, gay With icy brilliants, which as proudly glow As erst Golconda's; and thy pure array Of regal ermine, when the drifted snow Envelopes nature: till her features seem Like pale, but lovely ones, seen when we dream. STANZAS, We knew that the moment was drawing nigh, When the fountain's vase, and the cistern's Should alike to our trembling hearts appeal. Thy spirit to God who gave it; Thou shalt live in mine, though thy life be fled, dead, Whom my heart will not suffer to perish: Who in loveliest dreams are before me brought, And in sweetest hours of waking thought, But oh! there is one, with tearful eye, Whose fondest desires fail her; Who indeed is afraid of that which is high, And fears by the way assail her; Whose anguish confesses that tears are vain, Since dark are the clouds that return after rain! May HE, who alone can scatter those clouds, Whose love all fear dispelleth; Who, though for a season his face he shrouds, In light and in glory dwelleth, Break in on that mourner's soul, from above, And bid her look upwards with holy love. The following is one of our favourites; and for a fine lesson told in an easy and affecting manner, deserves to be transplanted into books framed for the instruction of youth. THE IVY. Dost thou not love, in the season of spring, And dost thou not love, when leaves are greenest, And summer has just begun, When in the silence of moonlight thou leanest, Where glist'ning waters run, To see, by that gentle and peaceful beam, The willow bend down to the sparkling stream? And oh in a lovely autumnal day, When leaves are changing before thee, Do not nature's charms, as they slowly decay, Shed their own mild influence o'er thee? And hast thou not felt, as thou stood'st to gaze, The touching lesson such scene displays? It should be thus, at an age like thine; And it has been thus with me; When the freshness of feeling and heart were mine, As they never more can be: Yet think not I ask thee to pity my lot, And grassy and green may the path be seen All bleak, and barren, and bare; On its leaves, when its leaves were green; And it seem'd to rejoice in their light the while, Reminding my heart of the patient smile Resignation can wear in the hour of grief, When it finds in religion a source of relief, And stript of delights which earth had given, Still shines in the beauty it borrows from heaven! From "Recollections," evidently inspired by a real grief, we take our last quotation; and to that add our last remark...that the author displays not only a goodness of heart, but a vivid perception of natural and moral beauties, and possesses a command of language to clothe his views in pleasing and instructive verse. Oh, there are hours! ay moments, that contain Feelings, that years may pass and never bring; Which, whether fraught with pleasure or with pain, We well may hope the promis'd boon would be Vouchsaf'd in mercy,-that thy soul should see HIM, whom the angelic hosts of heav'n adore; And from each frailty of our nature free, Which clogg'd that gentle spirit heretofore, Exulting, sing His praise, who lives for ever more ! Farewell! thou lov'd and gentle one, farewell! Thou hast not liv'd in vain, or died for nought! Oft of thy worth survivor's tongues shall tell, And thy long-cherish'd memory shall be fraught With many a theme of fond and tender thought, That shall preserve it sacred. What could In middle life, the wilder enthusiasm of the Wesleys calmed down. Charles, in the 41st year of his age, was married by his brother at Garth in Brecknockshire, to Miss Sarah Gwynne, and a few years after left off itinerancy, settled, and enjoyed domestic life. A match which John resolved on in 1745 was broken off by his brother, and this A dark'ning shade, or tint of happier hue, caused a breach of their cordiality for some To which fond memory faithfully should cling time. He afterwards married a widow of In after life: 1 felt, and own'd it true, the name of Vizelle with four children, and While I stood still, and look'd upon that moon-called the single men of the society together Can hardly be forgot: as if the wing Of time, while passing o'er, had power to fling light view. I thought of some, who once beheld, like me, The peaceful prospect then before me spread; And its still loveliness appear'd to be One of those visions morning slumbers shed Upon the pensive mourner's pillow'd head: Its beauties, less distinct, but far more dear, Seem'd to invoke the absent, and the dead! And by some spell to bring the former near, Although it could not call the latter from their That scathed wreck to view: But now I can draw, from that mould'ring tree, And thy God, in the darkest of days, will be In order to show how accurate an observer of nature in its most captivating forms Mr. B. is, we conclude with a few lines from Playford, a descriptive poem...they are very like Wordsworth. SOUTHEY'S LIFE OF JOHN WESLEY. 2 vols. 8vo. (concluded.) sphere. Nor did I wish it.-No, dear MARY! no: Pleasures eternal, deathless, and divine : Forgive my vain regret!-Yet, why repine? sod, For thou wert number'd with the "PURE IN Whom CHRIST pronounced blessed! and to show his reasons for so doing, in excep- "But even if John Wesley's marriage had proved as happy in all other respects as Charles's, it would not have produced upon him the same sedative effect. Entirely as these two brothers agreed in opinions and principles, and cordially as they had acted together during so many years, there was a radical difference in their dispositions. Of Charles it has been said, by those who knew him best, that if ever there was a human being who disliked power, avoided pre-eminence, and shrunk from praise, it was he: whereas no conqueror or poet was ever more ambitious than John Wesley. Charles could forgive an injury; but never again trusted one whom he had found treacherous. John could take men a second time to his confidence, after |