Note 37, page 44, line 14. Ay! let me like the ocean-Patriarch roam. This first of voyages is one of the few with which the Mussulmans profess much acquaintance. Note 38, page 44, line 15. Or only know on land the Tartar's home. The wandering life of the Arabs, Tartars, and Turkomans, will be found well detailed in any book of Eastern travels. That it possesses a charm peculiar to itself cannot be denied. A young French renegado confessed to Chateaubriand, that he never found himself alone, galloping in the desart, without a sensation approaching to rapture, which was indescribable. Note 39, page 45, line 12. Blooming as Aden in its earliest hour. "Jannat al Aden," the perpetual abode, the Mussulman Paradise. Note 40, page 55, line 2. And mourned above his turban-stone. A turban is carved in stone above the graves of men only. Note 41, page 55, line 11. The loud Wul-wulleh warn his distant ear. The death-song of the Turkish women. The "silent slaves" are the men whose notions of decorum forbid complaint in public. 66 "Where is my child?"—an Echo answers-" Where?" "I came to the place of my birth and cried, "The friends of my youth, where are they?' and an Echo answered, 'Where are they?" From an Arabic MS. The above quotation (from which the idea in the text is taken) must be already familiar to every reader-it is given in the first annotation, page 67, of "The Pleasures of Memory;" a poem so well known as to render a reference almost superfluous; but to whose pages all will be delighted to recur. Note 43, page 59, line 12. Into Zuleika's name. "And airy tongues that syllable men's names.' MILTON. For a belief that the souls of the dead inhabit the form of birds, we need not travel to the East. Lord Lyttleton's ghost story, the belief of the Duchess of Kendal, that George II. flew into her window in the shape of a raven (see Orford's Reminiscences), and many other instances, bring this superstition nearer home. The most singular was the whim of a Worcester lady, who believing her daughter to exist in the shape of a singing bird, literally furnished her pew in the Cathedral with cages-full of the kind; and as she was rich, and a benefactress in beautifying the church, no objection was made to her harmless folly.-For this anecdote, see Orford's Letters. T. DAVISON, Lombard-street, Whitefriars, London. |