Note 19, page 240, line 14.

By pale Phingari's trembling light.

Phingari, the moon.

Note 20, page 240, line 25.

Bright as the jewel of Giamschid.

The celebrated fabulous ruby of Sultan Giamschid, the embellisher of Istakhar; from its splendour, named Schebgerag," the torch of night:" also, the "

cup of the sun," &c. In the first editions "Giamschid" was written as a word of three syllables, so D'Herbelot has it; but I am told Richardson reduces it to a dissyllable, and writes "Jamshid." I have left in the text the orthography of the one with the pronunciation of the other.

Note 21, page 241, line 2.

Though on Al-Sirat's arch I stood.

Al-Sirat, the bridge of breadth less than the thread of a famished spider, over which the Mussulmans must skate into Paradise, to which it is the only entrance; but this is not the worst, the river beneath being hell itself, into which, as may be expected, the unskilful and tender of foot contrive to tumble with a "facilis descensus Averni," not very pleasing in prospect to the next passenger. There is a shorter cut downwards for the Jews and Christians.

Note 22, page 241, line 7.

And keep that portion of his creed.

A vulgar error: the Koran allots at least a third of Paradise to well-behaved women; but by far the greater number of Mussulmans interpret the text their own way, and exclude their moieties from heaven. Being enemies to Platonics, they cannot discern "any fitness

of things" in the souls of the other sex, conceiving them to be superseded by the Houris.

Note 23, page 241, line 13.

The young pomegranate's blossoms strew. An oriental simile, which may, perhaps, though fairly stolen, be deemed "plus Arabe qu'en Arabie."

Note 24, page 241, line 15.

Her hair in hyacinthine flow.

Hyacinthine, in Arabic, "Sunbul," as common a thought in the eastern poets as it was among the Greeks.

Note 25, page 241, line 25.
The loveliest bird of Franguestan.

"Franguestan," Circassia.

Note 26, page 244, line 6.

Bismillah! now the peril's past.

Bismillah" In the name of God;" the commencement of all the chapters of the Koran but one, and of prayer and thanksgiving.

Note 27, page 245, line 3.

Then curl'd his very beard with ire.

A phenomenon not uncommon with an angry Mussulman. In 1809, the Captain Pacha's whiskers at a diplomatic audience, were no less lively with indignation than a tiger cat's, to the horror of all the dragomans; the portentous mustachios twisted, they stood erect of their own accord, and were expected every moment to change their colour, but at last condescended to subside, which, probably, saved more heads than they contained hairs.

Note 28, page 245, line 13.
Nor raised the craven cry, Amaun!

"Amaun," quarter, pardon.

Note 29, page 245, line 23.

I know him by the evil eye.

The "evil eye," a common superstition in the Levant, and of which the imaginary effects are yet very singular on those who conceive themselves affected.

Note 30, page 247, line 18.

A fragment of his palampore.

The flowered shawls generally worn by persons of

rank.

Note 31, page 249, line 17.

His calpac rent—his caftan red.

The "Calpac" is the solid cap or centre part of the head-dress; the shawl is wound round it, and forms the turban.

Note 32, page, 249, line 23.

A turban carved in coarsest stone.

The turban, pillar, and inscriptive verse, decorate the tombs of the Osmanlies, whether in the cemetery or the wilderness. In the mountains you frequently pass similar mementos; and on inquiry you are informed that they record some victim of rebellion, plunder, or revenge.

Note 33, page 250, line 6.

At solemn sound of "Alla Hu!"

"Alla Hu!" the concluding words of the Muezzin's call to prayer from the highest gallery on the exterior of the Minaret. On a still evening, when the Muezzin has

a fine voice, which is frequently the case, the effect is solemn and beautiful beyond all the bells in Christendom.

Note 34, page 250, line 18.

They come their kerchiefs green they wave. The following is part of a battle song of the Turks:"I see I see a dark-eyed girl of Paradise, and she waves a handkerchief, a kerchief of green; and cries "aloud, Come, kiss me, for I love thee," &c.

Note 35, page 250, line 20.

Beneath avenging Monkir's scythe.

Monkir and Nekir are the inquisitors of the dead, before whom the corpse undergoes a slight noviciate and preparatory training for damnation. If the answers are none of the clearest, he is hauled up with a scythe and thumped down with a red hot mace till properly seasoned, with a variety of subsidiary probations. The office of these angels is no sinecure; there are but two, and the number of orthodox deceased being in a small proportion to the remainder, their hands are always full.

Note 36, page 250, line 22.

To wander round lost Eblis' throne. Eblis, the Oriental Prince of Darkness.

Note 37, page 250, line 27.

But first, on earth as Vampire sent.

The Vampire superstition is still general in the Levant. Honest Tournefort tells a long story, which Mr. Southey, in the notes on Thalaba, quotes about these "Vroucolochas," as he calls them. The Romaic term is "Vardoulacha." I recollect a whole family being terrified

scream of a child, which they imagined must pro

such a visitation. The Greeks never mention

the word without horror. I find that "Broucolokas" is an old legitimate Hellenic appellation--at least is so applied to Arsenius, who, according to the Greeks, was after his death animated by the Devil. The moderns, however, use the word I mention.

Note 38, page 251, line 25.

Wet with thine own best blood shall drip.

The freshness of the face, and the wetness of the lip with blood, are the never-failing signs of a Vampire. The stories told in Hungary and Greece of these foul feeders are singular, and some of them most incredibly attested.

Note 39, page 258, line 5.

It is as if the desert-bird.

The pelican is, I believe, the bird so libelled, by the imputation of feeding her chickens with her blood.

Note 40, page 262, line 18.

Deep in whose darkly boding ear.

This superstition of a second-hearing (for I never met with downright second-sight in the East) fell once under my own observation. On my third journey to Cape Colonna early in 1811, as we passed through the defile that leads from the hamlet between Keratia and Colonna, I observed Dervish Tahiri riding rather out of the path, and leaning his head upon his hand, as if in pain. I rode up and inquired. "We are in peril," he answered. "What peril? we are not now in Albania, nor in the passes to Ephesus, Messalunghi, or Lepanto; there are plenty of us, well armed, and the Choriates have not courage to be thieves?"-" True, Affendi, but nevertheless the shot is ringing in my ears."-" The shot! not a tophaike has been fired this morning."-" I hear VOL. II, 2 B