sified to be enumerated. The sale of oils and gold lace for the hair constitute the whole traffic of a bazaar half a mile long.

Had we space, we could dwell at infinite length on the various features of this strange city, at once replete with the grand and the grotesque the wealthy and the wretched-tyranny and slavery. But space is the bane of periodical writers, who are compelled to crowd into few pages what would fill a hundred. We must therefore, however reluctantly, quit Cairo and accompany Mr. St. John into the Desert. We find him crossing the sandy waste with the Bedouins, visiting the lowly villages of the Fellahs, watching the pretty water carriers of the Nile, mixing in the hilarity and bustle of a country fair, sailing up the Nile to Middle Egypt with him, and examining the wretched, but at the same time romantic, mud cottages of the peasants. The following is an account of the dwelling of an old gentleman fond of the picturesque, and also possessed by the laudable desire of keeping his own piastres in his own pockets

"I remember one old fellow who, wearied by Turkish taxation, had betaken himself to a retreat whither the collectors of the revenue would not care to follow him. Midway, on the face of a cliff four or five hundred feet perpendicular, some anchorite of ancient days had scooped himself out a suite of chambers in the rock, with spacious windows overlooking the river and commanding a delightful prospect of the valley. To enter this dwelling, there was no way but by descending to it along a rope let down from the top of a mountain, or by climbing up another rope, which its inmate occasionally let down from the window when he desired to visit or be visited by mankind. For the purpose of raising such provisions as were brought him, he dropped a small cord with a basket at the end of it, into which was put whatever he needed, without payment of any kind, by the honest Fellahs of the neighbourhood. Of course no one but a holy personage could think of leading so solitary an existence, and as the Arabs entertain a profound respect for sanctity, they are always very ready to maintain those who appear to possess it."

The Abaddeh, or Nubians of the Eastern Thebaid Desert, next come under our observation. They are a fine muscular race, often exceeding six feet three inches in height, and must be peculiarly formidable opponents in battle, with their ponderous broadswords and crooked daggers. Ferocious and bloodthirsty as they are, these wild men of Nubia nevertheless surpass in industry the more peaceful and domestic Egyptian Fellahs, by whom they are regarded with very unfavourable feelings. The gardens of those that settle in one place are trim, their fields well cultivated, and their dwellings neat. For the most part, however, the Abaddeh are nomadic, and, only attending to their flocks and herds, wander from spot to spot of that extensive desert lying between the Valley of the Nile and the Red Sea.

We then accompany the picturesque Kafileh, tracking its weary way over the plains, in a scattered and extended line by day, but close and compact by night, through fear not only of the wandering hordes of robbers which ever keep the merchant possessed by a wholesome anxiety for the safety of his life and property, but also through fear of supernatural visitations, tales of which are nowhere so rife as in this portion of the East.

A lithograph representing an Arab Sheikh luxuriating in his chibouque gives Mr. St. John an opportunity of enlarging on the delights of smoking; after which we have an account of the Wahaby and Azami Arab tribes; then the noble Nedji horse, an animal held by the Turks and Arabs in almost equal esteem with their wives and children, appears before us full of life and beauty; and certainly, if any of the inferior creation should command the affection of his owner, it is the Arab horse. His generous qualities are known to all. Often has the hunted and exiled Bedouin, when driven from house and homedeprived by slaughter of friend and family, deserted by his allies, and chased well nigh to death by the forces of a superior enemy-found a preserver and a

faithful adherent in his good charger. Such services as these at least justify an enormous value being set by the owner upon his benefactor, and we are not disposed to regard as incredible the story told of the sheikh of a powerful Nomade tribe refusing sixty thousand pounds sterling for his mare. "Sixty thousand pounds," said he, "are good; but, Allah be praised! my mare is better."

Reluctantly passing over some of the most interesting portions of this delightful book, we are introduced to an Abyssinian priest and warrior engaged in conversation. Advantage is taken of this to sketch in half a page a history of the rise and progress of Christianity in that country. The following describes the sowing of the first seeds :

66

Christianity owes much of the progress it has made in Abyssinia to the mild and inoffensive manner of those who first carried its precepts into the land. There was no attempt to force religion into the hearts of the people. The Christian brothers won them by love, the fundamental principle of Christianity, and obtained the confidence of the monarch then reigning by their peaceful demeanour. Doubtless it was by accident that the first seeds of the new religion were sown. When Aleropius, with his two sons, 330 years after the birth of our Saviour, set out upon a commercial voyage to India, and landed on the coast of the Red Sea, he scarcely contemplated the great work he then began. The inhabitants murdered him, and, making his sons prisoners, conveyed them as slaves before the Emperor. Their abilities and behaviour, however, soon constrained him to set them free. They then appear to have applied themselves to the work of conversion, which proceeded with great rapidity. Trumentius carried the tidings to Alexandria, where they were received with considerable joy. He was created the first Bishop of Alexandria; and, returning to the country, continued his exertions."

The two last articles, on the warrior of Amhara and the costume of Abyssinia, we are compelled with regret to pass over, to speak in general terms of the work. ti

The "Oriental Album" is a magnificent volume. The lithographs are among the most beautiful specimens of art we ever remember to have seen. The groupings are bold and striking, original in conception and highly finished in execution. To those who would acquire, at comparatively small cost and with little study, a correct and clear idea of the general features of the lands of Egypt, Nubia, and Abyssinia, more especially the first, we would recommend the "Oriental Album." Nor must we omit to mention the splendid illuminated titlepage, which for beauty we have never seen excelled. The literary portions of the work and the engravings do equal credit to the author, the artist, and the thographer.

LINES

WRITTEN IMPROMPTU ON HEARING OF THE LOSS OF HER MAJESTY'S STEAM

Weep for our brothers,

Who sunk on the main, For unheard and unpitied Their cries were in vain.

Weep for the vessel

O'erwhelmed by the tide,
For the young and the noble
Went down in their pride.
Let the bells be muffled,

And solemnly tolled,
For the brave hearts that rest
In the waters so cold.

FRIGATE, THE AVENGER.

No help was at hand,

And resistance was vain,
But though buried in ocean
They'll blossom again;
For God in his mercy

Looked down from the sky,
And angels stood ready

To waft them on high.
Then weep not for them,

But with sorrowful mind
Ye may weep for the parents?
And friends left behind.

A A

Their's was the grief,

And their's was the woe,
When told the sad tale

Of the lov'd ones laid low.
But if sympathy, shedding
Her tears far and near,
To the hearts of the mourners
Brings comfort and cheer
Freely they'll flow [land,

Through the breadth of the
For the loss of that noble
And ill-fated band.

ANTONIO PERE Z.

A ROMANCE OF BIOGRAPHY.

ANTONIO PEREZ, belonging to a noble family of Montreal de Ariza, the grandson of a secretary of the Inquisition, the son of Gonzalo Perez, Charles the Fifth's secretary of state, was presented to Philip the Second by Ruy Gomez de Sylva, the husband of the beautiful and celebrated Princess of Eboli. Philip the Second, el Prudente (the Prudent), as the theologians of the period called him, combined the use and abuse of every sensuality, with experience in the most complicated affairs, the most carefully-concealed and most ambitious schemes, the employment of every crime, and the most superstitious devotion. Antonio had scarcely set his foot at court before he was covered with the king's favours-a secretary of state at five-and-twenty, receiving, moreover, from the royal treasury a pension of 12,000 and another of 4,000 ducats. He does not explain in his memoirs the cause of this rapid and extraordinary elevation-but it is easy to supply his silence. The Princess of Eboli had inspired the king with a violent passion; and Ruy Gomez, her husband, was too wise not to be blind. The protectress of Antonio Perez, whose youth, talent, and love had touched her heart, she at once ruled Philip the Second by her personal ascendancy, by her complaisant husband, and by the monarch's secretary, devoted to her interests and captivated by her beauty. She was thus the nominal wife of Ruy Gomez, the beloved mistress of Antonio, and the interested favourite of Philip. In the midst of his tragical schemes and gigantic intrigues this terrible king was trebly a dupe. On one hand, a beautiful woman, whom he loved; on the other, the courtier husband conniving at adultery; lastly, Antonio Perez, a confidant of the king's passion, and the favoured lover of the princess, formed around the trebly-deceived Philip II. the thickest and most dramaticallywoven veil that can be imagined.

Philip never suspected that he was deceived; his suspicions fell elsewhere. Don Juan of Austria, his bastard brother, gave him much anxiety. He followed with a distrustful eye the warlike ambition of this youth, who had refused to submit to the obscurity of the cloister or the effeminate life of a court. Each victory of Don Juan's increased his terror, and caused him frequently to augment the number of spies around the object of his suspicion. These latter, from whom several despatches are preserved in the memoirs of Perez, directly addressed themselves to the young secretary of state, who contented himself with deceiving his master in an amorous intrigue, and compensated his domestic treachery by fidelity and well-proved zeal. Their letters in cipher, which an ecclesiastic transcribed into ordinary characters, were commented on by Antonio and the king: this ecclesiastic was Escobar. It is curious to see the Escobar of Pascal engaged in all these crooked affairs, and intrusted by Philip II. with the office of deciphering the despatches of his spies. Group these five figures, Escobar, Philip II., the princess, Ruy Gomez, the secretary in love, and you will compose an unequalled picture, to which nothing is wanting but a painter. Whilst Don Juan was victorious at a distance, the men placed near him by Philip II., under the title of privy councillors, were, as may be supposed, the objects of the monarch's special choice or anxious attention. The least preference on their part, real or apparent, in favour of Don Juan, determined their recal. Thus Don Juan de Soto was replaced by Escovedo, his enemy. The latter, a crafty man, with great support at court, had denounced Soto as too much attached to the hero of Lepauto. Under this appearance of devotion to Philip II., Escovedo hoped to make his fortune rapidly, to deceive the eternal suspicions of the crowned brother, and actively serve the interests of the bastard. He presumed too far. Whilst he played with Philip the part of spy

upon his brother, and with Don Juan that of a loyal councillor, Philip, assisted by the reverend Escobar and Perez, read in his cabinet of Aranjuez the secret messages of Escovedo to the court of Rome, and to the Duke of Guise, both soliciting in favour of Don Juan against Philip.

Philip broke out into no reproaches: Escovedo was not warned. He was summoned to Madrid, where he was kept under various pretexts, and where the king received him warmly, without, however, allowing him to return to Don Juan. Escovedo was at first astonished; he then understood the fate which was reserved him; observing closely the court, and the men who surrounded him, he easily discovered the intimacy between the secretary of state and the favourite. This discovery reassured him. He saw in it a chance of safety, and a powerful weapon. He hoped to chain to him by terror the private secretary, who was the most influential man in the kingdom. But at the same time Antonio Perez received two different confidences, and found himself intrusted with two singularly opposite affairs.

On one hand, Escovedo said to him, "You deceive the king--I know it. The princess loves you, and you love her: I have proofs of it. Thus you are at my mercy. Treat me well, and I will spare you. Defend me against my enemies -I will be your friend.

On the other hand, Philip, having decided to get rid of Escovedo without noise and without éclât (sin juycio, y sin preceder prision), said to Perez, “You will have that man destroyed, by whom and when you please, provided it is in secret. I command it."

One evening Escovedo was stabbed in the street. The assassins, engaged by Perez, paid by Philip, had wounded him mortally; an atrocious action, "which the code of absolute obedience to the king made a duty to me," says Perez; but which God avenged, and Antonio atoned for, by the calamities of his whole life. The latter, in his printed memoirs, confessing the murder, but without repentance and without scruples, imputes it entirely to his master, "who alone had an interest in it." This is not exact. Escovedo dead, freed Perez from too clear-sighted an observer, and too dangerous an enemy; the instrument, selfcalled a blind one, of the royal vengeance was also the artizan of his own security. But, to judge with perfect equity this bloody obedience of Perez, it is necessary to consider the situation he had created for himself: the threats of Escovedo, his talents and audacity, the knowledge which the young secretary had acquired of the character of Philip, the reports which had already spread respecting the connection between the favourite and the secretary of statefinally, all the terror and danger of the moment, the authority of a royal command, which no one resisted, and the impending ruin of the princess and Antonio.

The murder of Escovedo, which seemed to place Perez out of all danger, hastened his ruin. The family of the victim rose up, and public curiosity sought for those to whom the death of the murdered man could be productive of any advantage. The raillery which Escovedo had indulged in on the loves of the secretary and the favourite was remembered; public opinion designated those two persons. The king's spies brought him these reports. The situation of Perez then suddenly changed. Philip's suspicions blazing up at the testimony of his spies and the public report, he recognised the treble fraud with which his mistress, his courtier, and his confidant had surrounded him. These three persons, whom it was necessary to be rid of, possessed so many royal secrets that they could not be destroyed together and at one blow. Philip waited, and of all these personages-so passionate, so crafty, so ardent, and so formidable,—he was not the least embarrassed.

The son and widow of the deceased demanded vengeance; Perez demanded protection against his accusers; the calumniated princess insisted on reparation. The Escovedos wanted permission to drag the murderer to justice. Antonio Perez, when accused, reminded Philip that the murderer was the king, and the favourite did not comprehend the coldness and hatred which had succeeded so

much love. To the supplicating letters of Perez, Philip replied by equivocal notes proving his embarrassments:-"I hope it will go no further.... I hope that all will end well.... Meanwhile, take care of yourself...." All these original letters of Philip profoundly characterise him, and they must be placed among the most curious monuments of modern history. It is worth seeing with what infinite patience the king prepares his revenge, opposing to the princess nothing but coldness-to Antonio Perez nothing but enigmatical words and embarrassment; persuading them both to silence, appearing willing to reconcile them with their enemies, and getting by means of cunning out of the difficulty into which he had fallen; employing to conduct all this intrigue his confessor, Fray Diego de Chaves, the same who had led Don Carlos to death; and finishing by throwing the haughty favourite who had deceived him into a fortress, and Antonio Perez into prison. But Perez's imprisonment was not a harsh one; Philip was too prudent to irritate the possessor of so formidable a secret. The king appeared to yield to the demands of the Escovedos. Everything led the secretary of state to believe that the king fulfilled the obligations of a painful situation, and endeavoured to dispel, by in a measure serving it, the anger of the offended family. Antonio's office was preserved to him-his friends visited him-he was only watched in his own house. During eight months things went on thus. During this apparent clemency, an action was noiselessly drawing up against Perez, quite apart from the accusation of murder, and relating to other points of a very slight nature, which were perverted from their true sense-transformed into state crimes-and sentenced with pecuniary and corporal punishments, without the smallest regard to the lightness of the charges. Philip II. killed his adversary with the greatest mildness; he bled him to death without appearing to touch him, by opening the smallest possible vein. Antonio perceived it; he raised his voice-his prison was made more severe. He fled-took sanctuary in a church-and was torn from it. His wife, then pregnant, was thrown into a dungeon. In order to subdue him entirely, he was put to the torture. At that very moment the king, in a little note, wrote to him to have courage; that he would not be abandoned; that all would go better; and especially to mind and not confess that Escovedo had been killed by his order. But the blindest must have opened their eyes to Philip's intentions. Antonio declared to the people who tortured him that he had commanded the murder, but by the express order of the king; that he still possessed the proofs of it; that more than a hundred letters from the king to him and from him to the king, all annotated and commented on by the latter, remained in his possession; that the venerable Escobar, who had deciphered Escovedo's letters, knew it likewise; and that he invoked in favour of his veracity-in favour of an involuntary confession, wrung from him by so much suffering, the judgment of God and men.

It would have been absurd to await after that the results of royal vengeance. Dona Joana Coello, his wife, who displayed heroic constancy throughout her husband's persecutions, assisted him to escape from prison. A friend-Gil de Mesa-cleared the road for him. At nine at night he met the alguazils in the street, spoke to them, and was not recognised. At last he reached the frontiers of Arragon, a kingdom still free, though under monarchical authority, and the first privilege of which obliges the king himself to submit to the authority of local laws. Whilst the gates of Saragossa opened to him, and offered him an asylum, his daughter, his infant children, and his wife-eight months advanced in pregnancy were thrown into a dungeon. Notwithstanding his habitual dissimulation, Philip II. betrayed a fierce anxiety. He had neither been able to kill the secret nor the master of the secret. His fool, warranted by his office, exclaimed as he sat down to dinner

Why are you so sad, father? Antonio Perez has escaped; everybody rejoices at it; rejoice likewise."

The king tried by turns indulgence and cruelty. He set at liberty, for some days, Dona Joana and Dona Gregoria, the wife and daughter of Perez. One