tongue in his imperial cheek, ordered the Gladiator and suite to the Musée Royale, and gave an order on his archi-tresorier for two thousand francs. The Bourbons, however, have, since the restoration, kept the collection, by satisfying the very moderate demands of the needy Borghese. At the same time the pictures paid a visit to Paris, and were hung up in the Borghese Hotel, Rue Faub. St. Honoré, now the mansion of our ambassador; but they have all long since returned to their more classic home on the Ripetta. The Prince and Princess, as we all know, are two; and while she patronizes the baths of Lucca, the Prince builds at Florence, and rivals Lady Burghersh in his fêtes.

Emerging from the palace on the Ripetta, or Barge-quay, and somewhat satiated with pictures, we amused ourselves by remarking the pillars on which are marked the various heights to which the Tiber has risen in its several inundations. The upper marks are incredible — all modern Rome must have been immerged above the first story. But the mishap is easily accounted for; the Tiber, which is a very broad river beneath the Ponte Molle, and without the walls, no sooner enters them than its bed is narrowed by buildings, bridges, and the no less artificial island, founded, as history tells us, by the corn of the Tarquins. Beneath the bridge of St. Angelo, the Tiber becomes absolutely of insignificant size; the dreadful inundations of the classic river are but its natural retaliation for being so confined. A barge, ferried by the stream, through the help of an extended rope and pulley, brought us across to the Tiber, to the open grounds that face the batteries of the castle; and a short and agreeable walk outside the walls led us beneath the colonnade of St. Peter's. It was not the day, however, for the grand gallery, nor was our destination thither, but to the Mosaic studio near -a curious manufacture, for little more is this beautiful art, destined to bestow almost immortality on the more perishable originals of genius.

A curious and a dirty quarter was this Borgo St. Pietro for Corinna's choice, but certainly not more ill-chosen than was the Fountain of Trevi in the midst of a Roman St. Giles's for her impassioned meditations. Crossing the place of St. Peter's, we descended the Lungara to the Corsini palace-there is an Ecce Homo, by whose side I would not mention even a Correggio. This was the residence of Joseph Bonaparte when it was invaded by the hostile mobs of Roman populace and soldiery in ninety-seven or eight, when poor Duphot fell a victim; Rome expiated the crime by twenty years of foreign bondage. It is but a step over the way to the Farnesina; a villa which, although so called, was built and adorned by one of the Chigi family. The Loves of Cupid and Psyche, designed by the hand of Raphael, and finished by himself and pupils, adorn the soffitto of the hall; the colours are as fresh as if but of yesterday's laying on. There are three Graces in particular, all from the hand of the great master, inimitable in attitude and grouping. The celebrated Galatea, a fresco on the wall of an inner room, has suffered much more from time and ill-usage. Prints have made us more familiar with the figure of the triumphant sea-nymph, the very acme of graceful action, than with any other work perhaps of Raphael. Distemper landscapes by one of the Poussins cover the rest of the apartment, except in a single corner, where the hand of Michael Angelo sketched a gigantic head, some say in contrast to, or in derision of, his rival's more effeminate excellencies.

Leaving the Farnesina, we proceeded, jostled by true Roman shoulders, for the Trasteverini were in crowds on the little piazza of the bridge, over the Ponte Sisto. Its neighbour, the Ponte Rotto, calls out, with two stout existing arches, for repair; but the Popes of the present day are still as deaf on that point as when some Pontiff, unusually rigid, refused poor Beatrice Cenci's offer to rebuild it, if her life were spared. On our way to the Farnese palace, we took the learned Abbate C's in our way. The kind old antiquary kissed us all round to our no small dismay, the accolade not being unaccompanied with snuff and snuffle. The interkissing of the noble species, if not forbidden altogether, should at least be interdicted to elderly gentlemen of threescore, to snuff-takers, tobacco-chewers, and beards of a week's growth. The old abbate repaid us, however,-for, snatching up his wig, cocked hat, and cane, he sallied forth to the Farnese palace, and treated us to criticisms on the Caraccis far above the cant of Ciceronism. A visit to an Italian literatus without complimenting is bad breeding, so I mentioned the titlepages of his latest pamphlets-Ah, Signor-he complained that one of our reviews had ill-treated a man of his years and gown-it was the Edinburgh, I believe, in some article on Dante. "Spirited, ingenious is your periodical literature, ma un po' feroce"-" a little ferocious ;" and I agree with the old abbé perfectly. Our knock-me-down mode of literary warfare astonishes the polite and timorous penmen of Italy, who are to each other dottissimi et gentilissimi amici, all bent one way, like reeds before the storm. They even shudder and recoil from our superior and more gentlemanly animosities; if some of our most flagrant publications were to reach them, I know not what effect they might have upon such quiet souls.

LETTERS FROM THE EAST.NO. VI.

Thebes.

HAVING hired a cangia for the voyage to Upper Egypt, we left Boulac on a beautiful evening in August. This vessel had very good accommodations-a low room on the deck with several windows, and a smaller one adjoining for my servant; but we preferred in general to take our meals under a canopy without. The crew consisted of seven Arab sailors, and their reis, or captain. For the first two or three days the shores and interior wore a more barren aspect than below Cairo, but the river became gradually wider. On the third day we came to Benesuef: at this town were barracks, with a number of Albanian troops, and it possessed a tolerable bazaar. As we advanced, our progress became increasingly delightful. The vessel generally stopped every morning and evening at some village or hamlet, or where the aspect of the country promised an agreeable walk, when we went on shore to purchase milk or fruit, and vary the scene a little. In oriental climates a traveller possesses the invaluable advantage of being enabled to calculate with certainty on his progress; the sun by day, and the moon by night, will always light him brilliantly on his way; and he has little disappointment to anticipate from rains, and fogs, and clouds; the atmosphere being almost always pure, the most distant objects can be distinctly seen. One evening, having walked some distance to an Arab village, in a grove of palms, we seated ourselves on the trunk of a tree as the daylight faded, when the Turkish commandant came up and politely invited us to take coffee with him. He conducted us to the top of a verdant bank, where a carpet was quickly spread at the door of his dwelling, sherbet was brought, and the time passed away very agreeably. He pressed us to dine with him the next day in the Eastern style, but this would have occasioned too long a delay. What was rather singular, this officer would not suffer his servant to accept any present; but, seeing us resolved to depart, he accompanied us good part of the way on board, and then took a kind and obliging leave. The scenery along the river now grew more rich and varied, and on the next evening it had an aspect of singular beauty as the sun set with unusual splendour, its glowing rays were thrown through some long lines of palm trees, close to the water's edge, and rested long on a ridge of grey naked precipices on the opposite shore; at the foot of these rocks was a border of trees, and verdure of the liveliest green, with some spots of cultivation, amidst which might be seen a lonely Egyptian passing along.

We next came to the town of Minièt, not so large as Benesuef; a Turk, of a respectable appearance, requested a passage as far as Siout, which we gave him. Late in the evening the cangia came to near the house of Mr. Brine. This gentleman is a native of Devonshire, has its broad provincial dialect, and manages a sugar-manufactory for the Pacha; he is very hospitable, and the English traveller is sure to meet a cordial reception at his house, which has an aspect half Egyptian, half English; the garden is laid out very prettily in the latter style. Next morning early we took coffee, and then proceeded to visit the premises, where between one and two hundred Arabs are constantly employed at very low wages; but Mr. B. declared it was often impossible

to make these Africans work without blows, though he greatly disliked having recourse to violent measures. Indulgence and kindness towards these people do indeed appear quite misplaced: they are certain to abuse them; and so rooted in the mind of almost every African is the love of ease and indolence, that they would rather subsist on the merest necessaries of life, than procure comforts by greater activity. We sat down to an early and profuse dinner at Mr. B's. and had the pleasure of partaking of what was rather rare on the banks of the Nile, a bottle of Champagne; and on returning on board we found two goats and a quantity of fowls sent as a present. This gentleman lives here on the fat of the land, and is absolute sovereign over all around him ; but the uncertainty of earthly joys seemed to be felt in Egypt as at home, for on our return two months afterwards from Nubia, Mr. B. was dead, his chere amie, an Italian lady, was cast on the stream without a protector, the assistants and servants were turned off, and the whole establishment put under Turkish management.

Leaving Radamouni, we arrived next day at Monfalut, an ancient town from the appearance of the wall that encircled it; here was a very good bazaar, and, as usual, a number of Albanian troops. These men, remarkable for their fine and healthy appearance in their own country, seem to languish beneath this sultry climate, and become sallow and faded. Here we had an opportunity of witnessing the celebrated dance of the Almék girls, who abound in the towns in Upper Egypt, and are devoted to this profession from childhood by their parents, and dress in a gaudy and fantastic manner. They wear long rows of gold coins on each side of the head, which are attached to the tresses of their hair by means of a hole bored in the middle of the coin. They are often beautifully formed, but their features are in general plain, and a young woman of five-and-twenty always appears forty. They danced, five or six in number, to the sound of the tambour and guitar, and their gestures were as voluptuous as can possibly be conceived; for in the manner and variety of these the whole skill of the dance appeared to consist: altogether it was a very disgusting exhibition.

Siout, the capital of the province, lying a few miles inland, we hired asses next day in order to visit it. Its appearance at a small distance was very pleasing, the branches of the Nile flowing close to it, and just beyond the rocky range of Libyan hills.

We next came to Girgé, a good Egyptian town, of the same sad and gloomy aspect as all the rest: the dwellings of the poor, dark and wretched; those of the better sort, like fortresses, with small and close windows of woodwork, and walls of a dirty brick colour; and the streets, if narrow passages can be so called, always unpaved. A Greek doctor came on board here, and introduced himself, as he wanted a passage for a short distance. He had come from Ibrahim the young Pacha's army at Sennaar, to procure a supply of spirits and some other articles, and was now about to return. He was a true Greek, of a round supple form, and keen and cunning dark eyes, that could express all things to all men; and though the scorching deserts of Sennaar were not quite so sightly a home as his own Attica, he seemed very much at ease, and willing to take things as they came: he was quite a man of the world, and of very courteous manners. How he could satisfy his Christian conscience to remain with an army of infidels,

whose only employment at Sennaar was to drive out and butcher the harmless inhabitants, is not easy to understand; but a Hakim, or Frank doctor, is held in peculiar honour by the faithful, whom it is very easy for him to remove to Paradise at any time; for medicine in any form or way, they are always ready to gulp down, though in perfect health. The Greek accompanied me to visit some of the mosques in the town. It was the first day of the second bairam, and all the Turks and Egyptians were taking each other by the hand in the streets, and, having mutually kissed the cheek as brethren in the faith, they placed the right hand on the breast with an air of the utmost kindness and pleasureand expressed their joy at the arrival of this happy day. It was a universal holiday: the Arabs, like boys released from school, formed in large groups in the open spaces, and danced and sang with all their might. We next visited the Coptic convent, a lofty and gloomy building of brick, with only one father in it. He was a man about forty, of a mild and handsome countenance, and, amiable manners, and appeared sincerely pious; he was unmarried, and no being but himself residing in this large and silent convent, his life must have been rather lone and desolate. He had a little garden of plants on the terraced roof of his house, the care of which seemed to be his chief delight, and he was supported by the contributions of his people, who were about three hundred in number. Had the Prophet forbidden his ministers to marry, he would have lacked imauns, santons, and dervishes, and might have propagated his faith by fire and sword, but never by the word of man, for not the certainty of Paradise would ever induce a believer to live a life of celibacy.

The banks of the Nile on the opposite shore were here formed of precipices of immense height, which descended almost perpendicularly into the water. The next day, our companion, the Greek doctor, left us, and proceeded to Furshout; and in the evening we reached the town of Kenéh, where excellent limes and melons were in abundance. The price of provisions in this country is extremely low-eggs twenty for a penny, a fowl for three-pence, and bread and vegetables cost a mere trifle. The thermometer was here at 93 in the shade, but in a few days it rose to 100. At this town we met with an amusing Turkish barber. This class of men are more respectable in the East than with us, which may partly account for their frequent introduction among the characters in the Arabian Nights. He was a clever man, and seemed to know the world well; his features were handsome, and, besides being well-dressed, he wore a formidable pair of pistols in his sash. He belonged to a peculiar order of dervishes, who allowed their hair to grow. Outwardly he looked as shorn as the rest of the faithful, but on taking off his turban, his long and luxuriant raven tresses fell on his shoulders and breast he seemed to sneer at many parts of his Prophet's revelations, and said he believed that people of all religions would have an equal chance of going to Heaven. This sceptical dervish was a jovial fellow, and loved an inspiring glass, even with giaours; he wore several dashing rings, and took snuff with all the grace of a Frenchman. On our return from Upper Egypt some time afterwards, the cangia had not long touched the shore, when we saw the portly figure of our friend the dervish advancing over the sand; he carried a handsome walking stick, and hailed our arrival very cordially.