VAN COURT'S NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. GENOVEVA OF BRABANT. THE Story of the engraving illustrates an covering for her head; but, alas! she was old and affecting story, with which all Ger- without food or water. But God tempers man children are familiar. Genoveva of the wind to the shorn lamb; and as she Brabant was a young and beautiful woman, looked round in the agony of hunger, the says the account which has been handed trailing stem of a gourd seemed as if it were down through many generations, and wife to creeping towards her, and her ear became Count Siegfried, a noble baron, whose castle aware of the trickling waters of a fountain. stood in the country which lies between Then suddenly the dry leaves in the neighthose two shining rivers, the Rhine and the borhood of the cave began to rustle, and preRhone. He had scarcely been married to sently a slender-limbed doe came trotting up her two months, however, when he was to her and nestled by her side: the doe readicalled away from her he so dearly loved, to ly gave up its milk for Little Sorrowful, for join the emperor in beating back the Sara- so was the child called by its mother. Genocens, who were making themselves formida- veva and her boy remained in the forest for ble by their conquests. Scarcely had Count seven years-the bitter cold of winter comSiegfried departed, when Golo, the steward, pensated by the splendor of the summer, and who had been left in command of the castle, all the beauties which nature so prodigally assumed all the airs and anthority of a mas- displays at that glad season. The little ter, and even made infamous proposals to child grew strong and beautiful, and blessed Genoveva herself; and upon being repulsed its mother's ear by whispering her name; with the utmost abhorrence by the Countess, but Genoveva wasted fast away under the to revenge himself, he sent word secretly to burden of her great sorrow, that her husband the Count that his wife had dishonored him. thought of her with shame. In the mean An immediate order for her execution from time, the Count Siegfried returned from the the too credulous and infuriated husband wars, and the villainy of Golo, the false was the consequence. She was accordingly steward, was discovered; and the remorse taken from the dungeon, in which she had of the noble Count for his too hasty order for been confined for many months, together his Genoveva's death was slowly consuming with her little son, and led by two of the him, when a faithful friend, by way of divertretainers to the depths of a great forest, some ing him from his melancholy, induced him to distance from the castle. And here the join a great hunting party. As the Count soldiers would have taken the young child rode along in the forest he started a doe, and from Genoveva, before killing her, but she following its track he was led to a cavern. implored so piteously, and so clasped it with It was the same doe that had nourished Genoall the energy of maternal love, that, as with veva and her child. And in the two human the ruffian in the story of the Babes in the beings clad in sheepskin he beheld his wife Wood, pity triumphed in their savage breasts, and child. They were restored amid the and they determined not to kill her, and to rejoicing of the people to the castle home leave her the child, on condition that she from which they had been so cruelly banpromised never to come again out of the ished, the doe accompanying them; and so wood. And thus she was left in the wide good was the lady to the inhabitants, that forest, with her poor naked infant, to die. after her death she was reverenced as a Steinbruck, the artist, has chosen this mo- saint, and for nearly a hundred years afterment for his picture. She is sitting down at wards, hoary-headed men prided themselves the foot of a great tree, the agony of despair on being able to say-" When I was a little dwelling in her countenance. Wandering child I was taken to see Genoveva." The in search of some shelter, she at length principal events of this story, according to reached a great cave: here at least was a all accounts, are founded upon facts, which VOL. 1.-4-A' '51-D 149 have been moulded into a poetic form by their passage through many generations of dreamy Germans, until in our later times comes the artist with his pencil, and embodies them all in this charming picture. How singularly some simple facts, such as these, running their course through ages, gather fresh delights at every step, and at last burst into perfect beauty under the inspiring touch of the painter, poet, and musician! [People's Journal. [From Bartlett's "Nile Boat."] SCENES IN EGYPT.-THE PYRAMIDS. How many illustrious travellers in all to escape from a second flood-by Nimrod, ages have sat and gazed upon the scene by the Pali of Hindostan, and even the anaround! and how endless are the specula- cient Irish. It was a favorite theory until tions in which they have indulged! "The very lately, that they were the work of the epochs, the builders, and the objects of the captive Israelites. The Arabians attributed pyramids," says Gliddon, "had, for two thous- them to the Gens or Genii; others to a race and years, been dreams, fallacies, or myste- of Titans. Some have supposed them to ries." To begin at the beginning, some have been the granaries built by Joseph; have supposed them to be antidiluvian; others, others, intended for his tomb, or those of the that they were built by the children of Noah Pharaoh drowned in the Red Sea, or of the bull Apis. Yeates thinks they soon followed every conceivable or inconceivable purpose the Tower of Babel, and both had the same that could be imagined by superstitious awe, common design; while, according to others, by erudition groping without data in the they were built with the spoils of Solomon's temple and the riches of the queen of Sheba. They have been regarded as temples of Venus, as reservoirs for purifying the waters of the Nile, as erected for astronomical or mathematical purposes, or intended to protect the valley of the Nile from the encroachments of the sands of the desert (this notable theory, too, is quite recent ;) in short, for dark, or reasoning upon the scanty and suspicious evidence of Grecian writers. At length, after a silence of thousands of years, the discoveries of Champollion have enabled the monuments to tell their own tale; their mys tery has been, in great measure, unraveled, and the names of their founders ascertained. The explorations of Colonel Vyse, Perring, and recently of Lepsius, have brought to light the remains of no less than sixty-nine leading down to the chamber at the base of pyramids, extending in a line from Abouroash the edifice, hollowed in the rock, and if the to Dashoor. These, by the discovery of the theory of Dr. Lepsius is correct, originally names of their founders, are proved to have containing the body of the founder. The been a succession of royal mausolea, forming long ascending slope of the great gallery, the most sublime Necropolis in the world. six feet wide, is formed by successive courses The size of each different pyramid is sup- of masonry overlaying each other, and thus posed to bear relation to the length of the narrowing the passage toward the top. reign of its builder, being commenced with the delving of a tomb in the rock for him at his accession, over which a fresh layer of stones was added every year until his decease, when the monument was finished and closed up. Taking the number of these Memphite sovereigns and the average length of their reigns, the gradual construction of the pyramids would, therefore, it is presumed, extend over a period, in round numbers, of some sixteen hundred years! Imagination is left to conceive the antecedent period required for the slow formation of the alluvial valley of the Nile until it become fit for human habitation, whether it was first peopled by an indigenous race, or by an Asiatic immigration, already bringing with them from their Asiatic birth-place the elements of civilization, or whether they grew up on the spot, and the long, long ages that might have elapsed, and the progress that must have been made, before monuments so wonderful could have been erected. Such is the latest theory, we believe, of the construction and import of the pyramids. The entrance to the great pyramid is about forty feet from the ground. At the entrance, the stones follow the inclination of the passage; there are a few foot-holes to aid you in descending the slippery blocks. Stooping down at the entrance of the low passage, four feet high, we began the sloping descent into the interior. The first passage continues on a slope, down to a subterranean room; but at the distance of 106 fect, a block of granite closes it; and an upper passage ascends from this point at an angle of 27°. Climbing by a few steps into the second passage, you ascend to the entrance of the great gallery. From this point a horizontal passage leads into what is called the Queen's Chamber, which is small, and roofed by long blocks, resting against each other, and forming an angle: its height to this point is about twenty feet. There is a niche in the east end, where the Arabs have broken the stones in search for treasure; and Sir G. Wilkinson thinks, that "if the pit where the king's body was deposited does exist in any of these rooms, it should be looked for beneath this niche." He remarks besides, that this chamber stands under the apex of the pyramid. At the base of the great gallery, to which we now return, is the mouth of what is called the well, a narrow funnel-shaped passage, Advancing 158 feet up this impressive avenue, we come to a horizontal passage, where four granite portcullises, descending through grooves, once opposed additional obstacles to the rash curiosity or avarice which might tempt any to invade the eternal silence of the sepulchral chamber, which they besides concealed; but the cunning of the spoiler has been there of old, the device was vain, and you are now enabled to enter this, the principal apartment in the pyramid, and called the King's Chamber, entirely constructed of red granite, as is also the sarcophagus, the lid and contents of which had been removed. This is entirely plain, and without hieroglyphics; the more singular, as it seems to be ascertained that they were then in use. The sarcophagus rests upon an enormous granite block, which may, as suggested by Mrs. Poole, in her minute account of the interior, have been placed to mark the entrance to a deep vault or pit beneath. There are some small holes in the walls of the chamber, the purpose of which was for ventilation, as at length discovered by Col. Howard Vyse. Above the King's Chamber, and only to be reached by a narrow passage, ascending at the south-east corner of the great gallery, having notches in which pieces of wood were formerly inserted, and from the top of that, along another passage, is the small chamber discovered by Mr. Davison; its height is only three feet six inches; above it are four other similar niches, discovered by Colonel Howard Vyse, the topmost of which is angular. Wilkinson supposes that the sole purpose of these chambers is to relieve the pressure on the King's Chamber, and here was discovered the cartouche containing the name of the founder, Suphis, identical with that found upon the tablets in Wady Maghara, in the desert of Mount Sinai. The second pyramid, generally attributed, though without hieroglyphical confirmation, to Cephrenes, is more ancient and ruder in its masonry than that of Cheops. Standing on higher ground, it has from some points an appearance of greater height than that of the great pyramid, and its dimensions are hardly less stupendous. It is distinguished by having a portion of the smooth casing yet remaining, with which all the pyramids were once covered, and it is a great feat to climb up this dangerous, slippery surface to the summit. Yet there are plenty of Arabs who for a trifling beckshish will dash "down Cheops and up Cephrenes" with incredible celerity. Its interior arrangements differ from those of the great pyramid, in that in accordance with Lepsius's theory, the sarcophagus of the builder is sunk in the floor, and not placed in the centre of the edifice. The glory of opening this pyramid is due to the enterprizing Belzoni. The third pyramid is of much smaller dimensions than the two others, but beautifully constructed. It was the work, as is proved by the discovery of his name, of Mycerinus or Mencheres, whose wooden coffin in the British Museum, very simple and unornamented, as well as the desiccated body, supposed to be that of the monarch himself, has probably attracted the notice of our readers. This pyramid is double, i. e., cased over with a distinct covering. Besides these principal ones, there are still standing other and smaller pyramids, more or less entire, grouped about these larger ones, and forming a portion of this stupendous Necropolis of Memphis. [From Household Words.] to earn a livelihood at the new work; and it was some time before the row of cottages I have spoken of could be built. While they were building my father was turned out of his lodgings for drinking and being disorderly, and he and I slept in the brick-kiln; that is to say, when we did sleep o' nights; but, often and often, we went poaching; and many a hare and pheasant have I rolled up in clay, and roasted in the embers of the kiln. Then, as followed to reason, I was drowsy next day, over my work; but father had no mercy on me for sleeping, for all he knew the cause of it, but kicked me where I lay, a heavy lump on the factory-floor, and cursed and swore at me till I got up for very fear, and to my winding again. But when his back was turned I paid him off with heavier curses than he had given me, and longed to be a man that I might be revenged on him. The words I then spoke I would not now dare to repeat; and worse than hating words, a hating heart went with them. I forget the time when I did not know how to hate. When I first came to read and learnt about Ishmael, I thought I must be of his doomed race, for my hand was against every man, and every man's against me. But I was THE HEART-REVEALINGS OF JOHN seventeen or more before I cared for my book MIDDLETON. I was born at Sawley, where the shadow of Pendle Hill falls at sunrise. I suppose Sawley sprang up into a village in the time of the monks, who had an abbey there. Many of the cottages are strange old places; others again are built of the abbey stones, mixed up with the shale from the neighbouring quarries; and you may see many a quaint bit of carving worked into the walls, or forming the lintels of the doors. There is a row of houses, built still more recently, where one Mr. Peel came to live there for the sake of the water-power, and gave the place a fillip into something like life; though a different kind of life, as I take it, from the grand slow ways folks had when the monks were about. Now it was-six o'clock, ring the bell, throng to the factory; sharp home at twelve; and even at night, when work was done, we hardly knew how to walk slowly, we had been so bustled all day long. I can't recollect the time when I did not go to the factory. My father used to drag me there when I was quite a little fellow, in order to wind reels for him. I never remember my mother. I should have been a better man than I have been, if I had only had a notion of the sound of her voice, or the look on her face. My father and I lodged in the house of a man, who also worked in the factory. We were sadly thronged in Sawley, so many people came from different parts of the country enough to learn to read. After the row of works was finished, father took one, and set up for himself, in letting lodgings. I can't say much for the furnishing; but there was plenty of straw, and we kept up good fires; and there is a set of people who value warmth above everything. The worst lot about the place lodged with us. We used to have a supper in the middle of the night; there was game enough, or if there was no game, there was poultry to be had for the stealing. By day we all made a show of working in the factory. By night we feasted and drank. Now this web of my life was black enough and coarse enough; but by and by, a little golden filmy thread began to be woven in; the dawn of God's mercy was at hand. One blowy October morning, as I sauntered lazily along to the mill, I came to the little wooden bridge over a brook that falls into the Bribble. On the plank there stood a child, balancing the pitcher on her head, with which she had been to fetch water. She was so light on her feet that, had it not been for the weight of the pitcher, I almost believe the wind would have taken her up, and wafted her away as it carries off a blow-ball in seed-time; her blue cotton dress was blown before her, as if she were spreading her wings for a flight; she turned her face round, as if to ask me for something, but when she saw who it was she hesitated, for I had a bad name in the village, and I doubt |