London or Portsmouth to Bombay presented little more of variety than was experienced in a change from sea-sickness to sea-weariness; with a prospect of the one-third of the big world which lies between, similar to that which we once heard mentioned by a soldier as his view of Athens. He had some dim recollection of having seen that city, from the deck of a British man-of-war in the Gulf of Egina; and imagination (certainly not eyesight) may or may not have enabled him to distinguish the view of it from the Reculvers or the coast of Essex. Certainly he seemed to behold more to interest him in a railway ride through moderately interesting scenery in the west of England, than in all his Greek voyagings. Time was, when the journey to India was rather an evasion of adventures of all kinds for so many weeks, than anything like the bustle of locomotion. Now, none is so imbecile as not to be able to put down in his note-book the most famous names in the world, which necessarily encounter him in his guide-book, or associate themselves with his hotel. On arriving among his friends, he finds incontinently that, without malice prepense on his part, he has a small volume of travels' ready to hand, which, if it consists of nothing but such jottings as these'Breakfasted at Jerusalem,'' Lunched in the Temple of Carnac,' 'Dined in a tomb in the Great Pyramid,' Overslept myself at Luxor,' Felt symptoms of my usual morning's headache when we came in sight of the Dead Sea'-summons up associations whose effect Milton would not have despised. We can promise, however, that Mr. Melly's Khartoum (our first specimen of recent books on travel) stands some degrees above this ideal zero of Oriental authorship, and to it we beg to call attention.

The numerous readers of The Crescent and the Cross' will recollect that they accompanied the now lamented author of that work, in his memoirs of the Nile Ascent, as far as Wady Halfa,a name which its unambiguous consonants will enable them to recognise in any respectable map of Africa, notwithstanding the fearfully nomad state of Anglo-Arabic nomenclature.* At this point in his navigation, that traveller records his

'-opening debate as to future proceedings by a disquisition on the savage beauties of Abyssinia, and the giraffe and hippopotamus shooting in the meadows of Gondar. The confluence of the Blue and White

The frequency of Eastern travel and travel-writing may surely encourage a hope that something like uniformity in the spelling of Oriental names is not very far distant. Hitherto, invention would seem to have been taxed to supply a new variety, in this particular, for every successive publication. For instance, by the union of Arabic diversity of pronunciation with English diversity of rendering, it has come to pass, that the name of the Prophet of Islam appears as if it had been subject to a regular system of algebraic permutation and combination. All the vowels but one have been made to do duty in the first syllable, and there have been most ingenious substitutions in the ensuing consonants. This, however, like the five

Niles at Khartoum was only twenty-five days' journey across the desert, and then the interesting part of the journey would commence. At present, the thermometer stood at 110°, (month of February): what of that! the swinging pace and the height of the dromedary would circulate air about us, and elevate us from the reflection of the desert's burning sands. In vain were arguments! We had been already five weeks in savagedom, among sands and deserts, and scorching sunshines; and, to say the truth, we had had enough of it. Hurrah! then, for the cool breezy north, the dashing sea, and the Syrian saddle: enough of this bedridden, dreaming life, so charming a few weeks since. Forward! to a life of action, novelty, and newspapers; and let Abyssinia, Meroë, and the desert sleep on in their solitudes.'-pp. 146-7. The Crescent and the Cross. 8th edition.

Mr. Melly's entertaining volumes record the adventures of an English family, who had time and inclination to persevere in the upward journey. The narrator was accompanied by his mother, sister, father, and brother, who penetrated as far as Khartoum, where few travellers had preceded them, and to which town no (English) ladies had ever penetrated before.' The decease of Mr. Melly's father on their return, casts a melancholy over the latter part of the memoirs; but the gentler sex braved safely the perils of more than one expedition in the remote deserts of Nubia; so that the journey was not very fatiguing, nor too difficult; and many may follow in their steps, and enjoy a tour full of new and interesting scenes.' With the aid of steam conveyance to the first cataract-which we have just observed advertised for the season (in Egypt, mid-winter, of course)-who shall determine how far such researches may extend? Who shall say that the Naiad from whose undiscovered and mysterious urn the most famous of rivers flows,-who has been so coy to the earnest and world-old wooing of the hardier sex, though she has been courted by lovers of more diverse tongue and varied accomplishments than those of Portia,-may not at length disclose her vestal charms to one of our own fair countrywomen? Should such hap befal, Antony's bewitching serpent of old Nile,' and 'that starred Ethiop queen,' will have to share a triple throne in history with a gentler competitor-a more powerful rival, perhaps, than Octavia or the sea-nymphs: we may promise that the Kandjiah of her and-twenty diversifications in the spelling of our own Shakspeare's name, is a mere trifle. But the spelling of topographical designations is a really important matter; and the very least that can be asked of a writer on Oriental travel, is, that he shall be consistent with himself in his text, and in the charts with which he favours us. This is not the case with Khartoum.' The inconsistency of the spelling is almost akin to the strange looseness which characterizes the numbering of the chapters; especially in the second volume, where it follows the arithmetic of chaos, altogether precluding reference to them by the arbitrary figures which stand at the commencement.

VARYING MOODS OF TOURISTS.

87

return shall be as tasteful, if not as voluptuous, as the barge of Cleopatra; more than one city will 'cast her people out upon her; Aboukir Bay shall echo with such a salute as has not sounded through it since the Orient' exploded: in short, we pronounce with Mæcenas, in the play, that 'She's a most triumphant woman,' and 'report' will not fail to be square to her.' But we must return to our adventuresses and adventurers, and their actual achievements by flood and field. The first part of their route, as far as Es Souan, is so thoroughly known to the public, that instead of delaying here, it would seem desirable rather to use all speed towards that mysterious upland where we may expect to find the 'little men' of Herodotus's informants-the country whence were to issue (if we recollect rightly) the men with tails, promised us by a Gallic savant, some short time ago, or where, if anywhere, we might hope to find the race 'whose heads do grow beneath their shoulders.' But we cannot refrain from quoting one or two sketches from the lively descriptions of Grand Cairo, and of travel on the Lower Nile, by such cheerful tourists. And cheerful they seem to have been, notwithstanding the difficulties of their progress; which, however, as we can plainly see, were met by a 'gift' of management, and the greater gift of tranquil and good-tempered endurance. The track they leave, whether on the river or in the desert, is bright and pleasant as far as one serious affliction has not disturbed its tenour. The author of The Crescent and the Cross' truly remarks that it is not what a country is, but what we are, that renders it rich in interest or pregnant with enjoyment.' And if we owe a debt of gratitude to every explorer, that debt is most decidedly enhanced when 'hues, fresh borrowed from the heart' of a genial and hopeful voyager, enliven the track of pilgrimage in any part of the globe. One tourist may supplement another in performing this service. When Mr. Lane or the author of Eothen, M. Lamartine, Mr. Warburton, or Miss Martineau, are by any chance moody or less enthusiastic than usual, new adventurers like the travellers of Khartoum' may beguile the way of its weariness, and consecrate it to the genius of good-will. For instance, the author of The Crescent and the Cross,' on entering the Nile in the steamer for Cairo, saw nothing but high banks of dark mud, or swamps of festering slime.' This, perhaps, is a permanent feature in the landscape; but then it must be remembered what mud' this is. For ourselves, we cannot look upon

* The laborious Father of History' on this, as on other points of inquiry, was perhaps not quite fairly dealt with. We hear nothing of little men,' but rather of men six feet high' at 10° north lat., according to the statement of a Monsieur R-, in conversation with Mr. Melly at Khartoum.-Vol. ii. p. 92.

the dirt which is commonly found in a sack of Egyptian beans, save with reverence; and should rather pity than sympathize with any one (even were he the purchaser thereof) who could. But we may hope that the sight of a dead buffalo, here and there, rotting on the river's edge, half-devoured by a flock of goitrous-looking vultures,' is not necessary to an entrée, or, at any rate, that it may be overlooked, or misapprehended, or sublimed, in another state of mind than that which, for the time, possessed the traveller from whose brilliant pages we have quoted. Even if unavoidable, we confess that we should be inclined to look favourably upon such a spectacle, as assurance doubly sure that we were in the veritable land of On and Noph. A vulture feeding on a dead buffalo' in the slime of Egypt is surely not an every-day sight, i. e. for Europeans. We protest against its being regarded as synonymous with vulgar voracity, carrion, and mud; and while we thank all writers of this class who give us honest impressions, in place of that poetical travelling-cant, (iargon de voyageur,) which we hope is almost exploded, we are glad to look at the same scene (or nearly the same) through slightly different media. The following is a vivid and clearly intelligible picture of the Nile below Cairo, from 'Khartoum.'

'We had gone but a short distance, when we came up with a most charming scene, in the midst of which rose the little village of Fowa, composed of only a few mud huts; which, however, in this spot, looked exceedingly picturesque. A beautiful Egyptian sunset shed its expiring glories around, gleaming like gold on the tall palm trees; while the minarets of the mosque, white as snow, stood strongly out on the dark blue sky. Flocks of pigeons careered to and fro over-head, or alighted on the glaring pigeon-house, and in front flowed the placid Nile in her calmest mood, giving a look of completeness and repose to the picture. It came opportunely to compensate us for our hitherto monotonous passage, and our eyes were unwilling to withdraw from it, though we now began to hope that the sketches of Roberts were not altogether imaginative, and that we might recognise some of the places portrayed by his pencil.

"This little oasis was succeeded by a flat, uninteresting country, overgrown with reeds, and by extensive marshes, which abounded with every description of birds; and I noticed, among others, plovers, pigeons, grey crows, variegated king-fishers, and huge hawks. Soon afterwards we discovered two beautiful gazelles, which stood looking at our little vessel for a moment, and then flew, with the swiftness of light, across the plain. Nothing could exceed the grace and nimbleness of their movements, and we watched their progress with the greatest interest. They are, I learnt, seldom found so low down the river, though met with in great numbers up the country.

'We were much amused at seeing a herd of buffaloes take the river,

CLEOPATRA'S NEEDLE.

89

making for one of the numerous islands. They were in charge of several men, who sat on the hindmost of the drove, and controlled the movements of the rest. It was, however, no easy task to keep them in order; and the men had frequently to jump from one buffalo to another, at the imminent risk of a ducking, to get at some unruly beast, which would not be restrained by moral influence. I was surprised to see that they swam almost entirely under water, only their heads being visible. Yet they are always drawn with the whole back above the surface. Such are the tricks of artists.'-Vol. i. pp. 28-30.

We have said nothing of our travellers' experiences at Alexandria, 'the first town of Europeans, and last of the Arabs' to the homeward bound, the city for which tourists and politicians have prophesied the empire of the Mediterranean-and where almost every kind of interest, philosophical, religious, and political, has found a battle-scene, more or less decisive, from Philo and Plotinus, down to Nelson, Abercrombie, and Brueys. One point, however, which Mr. Melly mentions in connexion with Alexandria, we cannot pass in silence. Public attention has lately been called to the fact of the British claim to one of Cleopatra's needles' which we are Vandal, or idle, or poor enough, to leave prostrate on the ground. There is a consideration which might surely arouse us into taking full possession; and that is, the state of a still more noted monument-Pompey's pillar,-which is already emblazoned in letters two or three feet in length, with the names of barbarian invaders.' When Messrs. Smith, Jones, and Robinson, have sufficiently bescrawled that relic of antiquity, may we not expect that the very fact of public attention' having been called to this monument, will turn their graphic propensities more decidedly in the direction of the obelisk; and call forth in its behalf renewed exertions on the part of this section of the British canaille? For the sake, therefore, of the ancient hieroglyphs which are still legible upon that monument, and for its protection against those which may be reasonably anticipated, but whose only analogy to the antiques consists in their being largely composed of names and dates-and of which we have a sufficiency on our public monuments at home, for all scientific purposes, (i. e., to aid in forming statistics of popular barbarism,) we hope that measures may be speedily taken for putting it out of danger.

At Boulac, 'the Wapping of Cairo,' reached in thirty hours from Alexandria, our travellers entered a perfect London omnibus,' which looks strange enough by the side of camels, whose capacity for carriage presents a defiant rivalry of these modern conveyances; bearing, as these animals do, packages by the thousand pounds weight. Four miserable Arab horses' brought