pletion. Pliny informs us that 366,000 men were employed for twenty years in the erection of the great pyramid; and Herodotus reports, from an inscription which it bore, that the expense of providing the workmen with onions and roots amounted to 1600 talents. The masonry still existing has been estimated at more than six millions of tons, which was erected on an area of thirteen acres and a half; and supposing the cost of the structure to have been Is. a cubic foot, including carriage, materials, and workmanship, it would have required an outlay of nearly five millions sterling. The huge mass occupies an area equal to that of Lincoln's-inn Fields, and was at first 100 feet higher than the top of St. Paul's. most remarkable curiosities in Egypt; | animals, and occupied ten years in comand the instep of the left foot bears a statement in Greek, to the effect that the empress Sabina, the wife of Hadrian, visited the spot at sunrise for the purpose of hearing the voice of the stone," accompanied by her women and the officers of the household. Strabo himself, when in company with Ælius Gallus, the governor of Egypt, saw the statue; and states that he heard a sound, but could not tell whether it came from the statue, the pedestal, or from some of the people who stood around the base. The statue of Memnon is between fifty and sixty feet high, and was originally formed from a single block of stone. The pedestals, at present buried beneath the accumulated deposits of the Nile, are thirty-two feet long and sixteen high, and are covered with bas-relief and hieroglyphics. More than one modern traveller has repaired to the spot before sunrise, in hopes of hearing the sound. Our limits preclude special allusion to a multitude of interesting objects that attract the attention of the traveller in passing down the Nile from Thebes to Cairo. We must hasten onwards to the pyramids. The purpose for which these were erected was once as little known as were most other things connected with this remarkable land; but it is now satisfactorily ascertained that they were intended as mausoleums. "On leaving the village of Gizeh," says Mr. Wathen," on the river bank opposite Old Cairo, the pyramids rise before you, glittering white against the blue sky; but the flatness of the plain and the purity of the atmosphere effectually deceive the eye as to their distance, and consequently their size: you almost appear at their base while several miles really intervene. As you advance gradually, they unfold their gigantic dimensions; but you must have been some time on the spot, your eye must have repeatedly travelled along the great pyramids' 740 feet of base, and up its steep towering angles, before you can fully understand its immensity, and the actual amount of labour involved in it." Before the pyramids themselves were commenced, a causeway was constructed for the transport of the stones, and Herodotus assures us that he considered this to be a scarcely less wonderful undertaking than the formation of the pyramid itself. It was formed of polished stones, was sculptured with the figures of The view from the summit of the pyramid at sunrise is striking and impressive in a high degree. "The shadows of the three gigantic structures," says an intelligent traveller," lie stretched beneath over the mouldering remains of forgotten ages. Westward an undulating desert plain extends to the white hills, which, from this point southward, shut in the Egyptian valley, now approaching the river, now sweeping off inland: the eye can follow no further westward, but, for many hundred leagues beyond, stretch the silent solitudes of the great African desert-the_barren patrimony of cursed Ham! To the north, east, and south you look down on the fertile fields of Egypt, here emerging from its long, narrow valley, and spreading into the expanse of the Delta. Through the midst of the plain the prolific Nile' pours along its earthy tide, borne from the far-off regions of Central Africa, and now soon to mingle with the blue waters of the Mediterranean. Beyond the river, and backed by the Mocattam hills, are seen the tall minarets of the modern capital. Villages, nestled in groves of palms, are scattered over the plain, or, during the inundation, rise like islands out of the lakes. Above spreads the same cloudless azure that canopied the court of the Pharaohs." Close to the pyramids of Gizeh is the enormous figure of the Sphynx, said to represent a fabled monster-half woman and half lion-which is affirmed by Grecian poets to have infested the city of the pyramids with that of a modern railway, see *For a comparison of the work of constructing Visitor for February, 1849, p. 41. Thebes, devouring its inhabitants, until | they should solve a riddle which it had proposed to them. Its erection has, however, been attributed by some to other causes. The preservation of their dead by the process of embalming is one of the most interesting peculiarities in reference to the Egyptian people ;* but as numerous specimens of them are accessible in our national collection, it will be easy for the reader to make himself familiar with their appearance, if he has not already done so. The examination, however, will excite strange emotions in the mind, as the records of the habits and customs of the people of other times are read, in the form and clothing of the mummy. A modern writer has thus addressed one of them : "And hast thou walk'd about (how strange a story!) In Thebes' streets three thousand years ago, When the Memnonium was in all its glory, And time had not begun to overthrow Those temples, palaces, and piles stupendous, Of which the very ruins are tremendous? Tell us for doubtless thou canst recollectTo whom should we assign the Sphynx's fame? Was Cheops or Cephrenes architect Of either pyramid that bears his name? Is Pompey's Pillar really a misnomer? Had Thebes a hundred gates, as sung by Homer? I need not ask thee if that hand, when arm'd, We have, above ground, seen some strange mutations; The Roman empire has begun and ended; autumnal sunset, it is beautiful. The sun sets behind a grove of palms, in a golden sky, upon which their most delicate featherings are distinctly described. A rich amber light glows over the landscape, and makes the meanest and most uncouth object look beautiful. A very brief twilight is followed by a glorious night: soon the feeblest star has lighted its lamp, and the black vault of heaven seems studded with brilliants. Such is the purity of the atmosphere, that you may watch a setting star till it touches the low bank of the river. Profound tranquillity reigns through the universe, or is only broken at intervals by the mellow murmur of a distant water-wheel. The moonlight streams upon the bosom of the ancient river. A beautiful meteoric phenomenon heightens the interest of the scene. Ever and anon a bright star seems to shoot away from its fixed companions-glances horizontally across the heavens, throwing off a long luminous tail; then, bursting like a rocket, leaves all nature intensely tranquil as before." Wherever we tread the land of Egypt, the great lesson of the evanescence of all sublunary things is inscribed. The palaces, temples, tombs, cities, and towns are mouldering in the dust, while the busy people who once trod the shores of the Nile-where are they? How true is the declaration of the Grecian sage, that "Nothing is lasting on the world's great stage." have reared, and which they hoped would The very monuments which monarchs give to their names a terrestrial immortality, silently but impressively say, "How And countless kings have into dust been hum-frail is man!" while the observer inbled, New worlds have risen-we have lost old nations, While not a fragment of thy dust has crumbled. If the tomb's secrets may not be confess'd, A heart has throbb'd beneath that leathern And tears adown that dusky cheek have roll'd: Have children climb'd those knees, and kiss'd that face? quires, "Where are the hands That rear'd these structures bold?" "But there are enjoyments indescribable in their nature, and endless in their duration! There is a city whose foundations can never be shaken, and which What was thy name and station, age and race? God hath prepared for them that love Statue of flesh-immortal of the dead! him! Like the stars and orbs above, Imperishable type of evanescence! Posthumous man, who quitt'st thy narrow bed, which shine with undiminished lustre, And standest undecay'd within our presence, and move with the same unwearied moThou wilt hear nothing till the judgment-morn-tion, with which they did from the first ing, When the great trump shall thrill thee with its warning." date of their creation, their enjoyments are ever full, fresh, and entire; and they will abide when sun, and moon, and nature itself shall be employed by Providence no more. The righteous shall appear in the eternal city, when the earth and all that is therein shall have been consumed, and enjoy one perpetual THE ways of God's providence with individuals in bringing them to himself, are deep and varied. They have not been recorded with sufficient care; and many a wondrous series of events, not surpassed by any imaginary and romantic invention of vicissitudes, has been allowed to pass away into the darkness of oblivion, and lost as an example to the present world; but certainly to appear, in all its wondrous detail, to the glory of the one wise and benevolent God, at the last great day. Some few years after the throes and heavings of the French Revolution, and its collateral excitements in the minds of men in other countries, began to subside, a master was needed for one of the rough schools among the colliers of Kingswood, near Bristol. An elderly gentleman offered himself as a candidate, of evidently very superior habits of mind and of life. There was a measure of haughty reserve and concealment about him. But no objection of any weight was raised in committee. When, however, it was suggested to him that a man of his evident superiority was putting himself, as it were, out of his proper position, he drew up and said, "it was their duty to judge of his qualifications for an office, to which they had invited candidates; and as to whether it suited his purposes, that was his, question, and not theirs; and a question evidently determined in his mind, by his appearance there. To elect him, or not, was their concern.' And, ultimately, though a certain degree of mystery hung around him, he was chosen master of the school. Months passed away in the quiet and diligent performance of duty; when at length a report, which arose first as a whisper, gathered strength sufficiently to induce the calling together of the committee; when a charge was seriously brought against this aged and somewhat mysterious teacher, that he was an unbeliever in revealed religion. The charge was at once met with firmness:-" Gentlemen, had you examined me closely at the time, you would undoubtedly have found me an unbelieving man. I have *See "History of the Egyptians," published by the Religious Tract Society. been a disciple and a victim of the wild and unlicensed views of the French revolutionary school. Neither education, nor argument, nor circumstances ever brought me to anything like a knowledge of the true God. But that which no favourable advantages of superior life could do for me, has been done by means of the simple prayers of my poor neighbours, the colliers of Kingswood. I have attended their little unpretending meetings for social prayer. I have listened with deep attention to their artless devotions, evidenced, as to their sincerity, by the streaming tear that stole down their blackened faces. This has been the effectual means by which, when everything else failed, I have been brought, at length, to feel and acknowledge my own sinfulness, and to believe in the mercy of my redeeming God and Saviour." Hear this, ye superstitionists, who would limit the influence of the sovereign Spirit of grace to a certain set of men, to certain ordinances, and to certain localities in a place of worship! There is life from the dead among the prayer-meetings of the poor colliers. We can have no other wish but to sustain, in all its efficiency, a regular and learned ministry of the word and sacraments; we know its unspeakable value in the community; but when conceited men, be they what they may, as spiritual and holy, arrogate to their personal acts the exclusive agencies of grace, we meet it with this and many other such instances of the widelyworking, independent, and uncontrollable sovereignty of Divine compassion, "The wind bloweth where it listeth, and thou hearest the sound thereof, but canst not tell whence it cometh, nor whither it goeth; so is every one that is born of the Spirit.' Here is an unquestionable case of that mysterious and inexplicable agency. What everything else had utterly failed to do, it pleased God, in his sovereignty, that the proud unbending mind of this stranger should be brought down to the dust by the prayers, the tears, the contrition, the earnestness of some of the roughest and simplest believers in the whole church of God. knowledge of men and things, and his unaffected piety and humility, the warm affections of the family; and he remained with them, as in an endeared home, till the lingering days of his last decline. During that illness, he was carefully attended by the eldest daughter of the family, who had learned to entertain a very great respect for this extraordinary stranger. One day, when he was very near the close of life, he called Miss Sto him, and said, "I must have your entire and determined confidence; I must deposit with you statements, which you must pledge yourself to me not to utter to any other individual till I am departed." To this she consented. He then said, very seriously, "My dear Miss S-—, I am not what I have appeared to be; circumstances have compelled me to seek the deepest shade of life. I am a Scottish baronet, of old family; my name is sir R▬▬ M——, of Many years ago, that unprincipled extravagance, which is often the associate of practical ungodliness, brought me into difficulties. At that moment, the delirious theories of the French Revolution deceived and led away many. In the midst of broken fortunes, and pecuniary difficulties, and strange theoretical extravagance, my wife left me, to accept the protection, as it is called, of admiral I had no son, but only two daughters, and these, in the wildness of my passion, and my disgust at my wife's infidelity, I abandoned to difficulties and risks of which I have never known anything. My inquiries, many years after, failed to give me any clue to wife or children. In my agony of mind, at the crisis of which I was previously speaking, I left my country and my property, I went to France, and plunged at once into all the excesses of infidelity and revolution, and lost myself totally for many years. When, however, the frenzy passed away, I returned to England. I could not find, as I told you, my wife and children. My brother had held the baronetcy for years, under the conviction that I had been long dead. I found that I was a solitary unknown outcast in the world through my own acts; and I fled to the deep shades of the Kingswood collieries. The rest of my history and its mercies you know. When I am departed, send up to London, to sir P-- M▬▬, of and he will come down, and do everything needful." The hour of sir R- -'s departure came, and he passed peacefully into the eternal world. Sir P― M- came down to his great astonishment, he recognised his lost brother, wept over him as his "dear Bob," and buried him with all the baronial honours in which the ancient Scottish families delight. The story does not end without another episode. These facts were all intimately known to the rev. Mr. G-d, a respectable dissenting minister, the intimate friend of Newton, and Cowper, and the old apostolical Mr. Bull, of NewportPagnell. One day he attended a social meeting for religious conversational improvement. He related this marvellous series of facts. In the wondrous providence of God, the two daughters of sir R▬▬ M▬▬ were in the room. Mercy had watched over those whom both parents had abandoned; and they now learned, thus incidentally, that their father had been rescued by Divine grace from all the horrors and consequences of unbelief. Such are the triumphs of God's wonder-working mercy. He lifteth up one and casteth down another. He delights in this infinite variety of providential means; and when the glorious Emmanuel has thus prepared the heart to receive him, he gives believers power to become the sons of God, "born not of the will of the flesh, nor of the will of man, but of God." The grand essence of all practical experience in religion is, that God is as an infinitely benevolent but absolute Sovereign in his whole universe; and that man is a poor defenceless, helpless creature, who without God in Christ can do nothing. God works for his mysterious purposes by providence and by grace; by the one, and by common grace, he accomplishes the preparatory state, "the good soil;" and then comes the mighty everlasting blessing: any man will do his will, he shall know of the doctrine, whether it be of God." "To him that ordereth his conversation aright, will I show the salvation of God.” "Work out your own salvation with fear and trembling; for it is God which worketh in you both to will and to do of his good pleasure." Oh! what a burst of glorious details shall come forth on the day of the appearance of the blessed Redeemer, and of the manifestation of the Son of God! The universe shall ring with it. Every heart shall be gratitude, and every song praise!-Christian Guardian. "If 'Mid scenes of our childhood, our country, and home." It may be that you have estimated too lowly the scenery of England; if so, amend your error. Accompany us in our remarks, and share our exultation. For vastness, romanticity, grandeur, and sublimity we must go abroad; but for sweetness, repose, freshness, and cheerful beauty, give us the fair scenes of our native and beloved land before all others beneath the stars. There are few counties in England, from Northumberland to Hampshire, and from Kent to Cornwall, whose scenes we have not enjoyed. We are now at Malvern, and, like the rest of the sightseeing world, disposed to give an account of our visit. Not a lengthy, heavy, humdrum, broad-wheeled wagon sort of a narrative, telling you merely where Malvern is, the number of its hotels, and boarding-houses; the property of its waters, and chalybeate spring, and other matters already well disposed of, by the guide-books of the place; but a light, sketchy, healthy narrative, making the eye of the reader sparkle, as if he were drinking at St. Ann's Well, climbing the Worcestershire Beacon, and breathing the balmy breeze. It was to preserve, not to procure health that we came to Malvern, and we mean to roam amid its mountains, to breathe the pure breath of the place, to gaze on its goodly scenes, and to be grateful, from "The breezy call of incense breathing morn," to the time when the spacious and spangled firmament, studded with glittering worlds, sets forth the glory of our great Creator. Again we say we are in health, and the water doctors of the place will not get a patient from our party. A pleasant drive brought us here yes terday, in our friend R's phaeton. Amid such delightful scenery as this, an open carriage doubles the enjoyment of the spectator. We had post-horses, and a postilion on one of them, in a gold-laced cap, and jacket, with white cords below. Fresh horses were ready for us at the different stages. In our route towards Bromsgrove and Worcester, the Lickey Hills were passed; we remembered the time when the surrounding country was a desert waste, and when a gibbet stood on one of the hills, with the bones of a murderer, hanging in irons. We remembered, too, the waterspout, which burst on the Lickey Hills, when the mighty flood rushed in a torrent through the streets of Bromsgrove: The winds of heaven were wild and loud, Was launch'd abroad from the coal-black cloud, At Malvern we alighted at the Coburg Hotel, or Foley Arms, in a cheerful mood, and with an excellent appetite; and the soles, boiled chickens with white sauce, and ham, that were set before us, with the quarter of lamb, various vegetables, custard pudding and tart, by no means impaired the hilarity of our spirits. Doubtless we could have fasted like anchorites, had so much self-denial been required; but this not being necessary, we gratefully partook of the banquet set before us. One word, however, must be spoken of our party. There are five of us. Of the ladies, two are English, and one from the Prin cipality; we call her, jocosely, Miss Plinlimmon Cadwallador. Of the two "lords of the creation," the one is literary, and the other, R2 more aristocratic in his mien. The latter is familiar with the sunny scenes of Spain, in New and Old Castile, Leon, Biscay, and Andalusia; he has lingered in the Escurial, and the Alhambra, mingled with the proud Dons in their betasselled monteros, and the graceful Doñas in their lace mantillas in the Prados, and Alamedas; and attended the barbarous bull fights of the Plaza de Toros. Many are the fair scenes on the banks of the Douro, the Tajo, the Guadiana, the Ebro, and the Guadalquiver; but not fairer than the wide-spread prospect before us. Let us describe our sunny day, making our remarks as we pass along. It is six of the clock, the morning is beautiful, and we are on the way to St. Ann's Well. |