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found how freshly and powerfully the ancient traditions of the Hebrew mind flourish in the shade of the Holy City. Here is a legend dating from the age of Titus:—

"Two heathen merchants met together in an inn in the desert. 'I have a male slave,' said one to the other 'the like of whoso beauty is not to be seen in the whole world.' And the other soiil, ' 1 hare a female slave, the like of whose beauty is not to be teen in the whole world.' Then they agreed to marry these two together, and to divide the children between them; and in the evening both the slaves were brought into a room. One stood in one corner, and the other in the other corner, and the male slave said, 'I a priest, and the son of a high-priest, should I marry a slave?' and the female said, in the other corner of the room, 'I, a priestess, the daughter of a high-priest, should I marry a slave 1 'and when the morning approached, they discovered that they were brother and sister. "They fell upon each other's necks, and wept, and wept, and wept, until the souls of both departed. And it is on account of this that Jeremiah said, ' Over these I weep, I weep; mine eye, mice eye, runs down with water.'"

On the road from Jerusalem across Lebanon he encountered an earthquake, in the land of the Anzairi, who had spread out their carpets on the plain, but who invited the stranger to enter their villages. He preferred to remain in the open air:—

"The Anzairees, therefore, remained for a while with Wolff, and they all smoked together; there being also, at about twenty yards from them, a party of Bedouin Arabs, who had their tents pitched there at the time, and were sitting round their fires. Wolff presently took out his Bible, and began to read from it to the Anzairees, when suddenly he felt something move under him, as if a pocket-handkerchief had been drawn from below him. Immediately after, all at once, the very earth moved in a horizontal direction, accompanied by a howling and thundering like that of cannon." At the moment, Wolff believed the howling to be that of the tormented spirits in hell inself. All the party at once rose, and, springing up, tried to hold themselves fast, as it were, by the air. And now, before their very eyes, the houses of their village, Juscea, fell down, and one universal cry arose. The Anzairees exclaimed, 'Ya Latccf! YaLateef! Ya Latecf!' Beneficent God! Beneficent God! The Arabs shouted, 'Allah Ak-bar!' God is the greatest! Then the An/.nirces hastened to the spot where their houses had stood but a few seconds before, and came back crying, 'Merciful God! our houses are gone, our wives, our children, our cattle, are all gone!' The first grand shock lasted two minutes. After this, shocks occurred about every half-hour, sometimes ten, twenty, thirty, or even eighty shocks at a time. Oh, what a change had come over the desert! A few moments before, it was silent as night; and now it was covered with the wild Arabs and Bedouins, who were flying over the

plain on their horses in their bnrnooses, with the floods drawn over their heads, like eagles cleaving the air."

The whole of Aleppo, Antioch, Latakia, Hums, and Hatna, had been destroyed, with all the villages within twenty miles round, and sixty thousand individuals had perished, their bodies lying scattered far and wide, and the ground rocking like the deck of a ship at sea. It was a pleasant change to quit this trembling mainland for a while, and make an excursion to Cyprus. There Dr. Wolff indulged as usual in some of his ungrateful pleasantries:— j

"He preached to the Jews, and lodged in the house of the British vice-consul, Mr. Surur, a little, clever, consequential man; for all men of little size are consequential, and stand up for their rights in a.cxtraordinary manner. Ho one day said to Wolff, ' To-day you will see me in

f glory, when I shall appear before the governor of Damiat as representative of his most excellent majesty the king of England.' He then dressed himself in a red coat, with two immensely large epaulets, such as up general of the British army ever wore. His silver buttons were gilt over; he wore a largo three-cornered hat, with feathers two feet high, and boots in which three dragoons might have stood. He was scarcely able to march in this costume, and spoke so loud that one could hear him from an immense distance. When Dr. Wolff asked him why he spoke with such a loud voice, he replied, 'Great men speak with a loud voice, little men with a small voice.""

We have before alluded to an episode of

the Syrian journey, the epistolary collision with Lady Hester Stanhope:—

"When thus arrived at Sidon, Wolff said to Col. Cradock, ' I have a letter with me for Miss Williams who resides with Lady Hester Stanhope. This I will send to her, and write her a civil line; but I shall not mention Lady Hester Stanhope's name.' So the letter was sent to Mar-Elms, Lady Hester Stanhope's residence, and an Arab servant conveyed it. But instead of a letter from Miss Williams, one came for Wolff from Lady Hester herself, which ran as follows:—

'"I am astonished that an apostate should dare to thrust himself into observation in my family. Had you been a learned Jew, you never would have abandoned a religion rich in itself, though defective; nor would you have embraced the shadow of a one—I mean the Christian religion. Light travels faster than sound, therefore the Supreme Being could not have allowed his creatures to live in darkness for nearly two thousand years, until paid speculating wanderers deem it proper to raise their venal voices to enlighten them.

"' Hester Lucr Stakhope.'

"To this Dr. Wolff replied :—

"' To the Right lion. Lady Hester Lucy Stanhope.

"' Madam,—I have just received a letter which bears your ladyship's signature, but I doubt its being genuine, as I never had the honor of writing to your ladyship, or of mcntioningyour name in my letter to Miss Williams. With regard to my views and pursuits, they give me perfect rest and happiness, and they must be quite immaterial to your ladyship. I have the honor to bo your most humble and obedient servant,

"' Joseph Wolff.*

"Wolff sent this answer by the same servant as before. On Lady Hester receiving it, she perused it, and desired tho man to wait, that she might give him a present. She then camo out with a whip, kicked the poor fellow behind, and sent him away, lie came back larao to Wolff, and told him that tho daughter of the king of England had beaten him. Wolff, in order to satisfy him, gave him a dollar, for which he dares say the man would have gladly undergone another beating at tho same price, from the daughter of the king of England."

With a company of native Christians and Arabs,—with a servant, who is described as at once a thief, a traitor, and a cheat,—and with a French companion, "the greatest scoundrel he ever encountered," Joseph Wolff entered upon his Mcsopotamian wanderings, crossed the Euphrates, at the rocks of Biri, visited Orpha, where he propounded a theory that Abraham and Orpheus were identical, and where he began to understand how certain are the populations over whom the sultan of Turkey claims to wield the sceptre to assert their ideas of independence. A Tartar courier arrived from Constantinople with a demand for tribute, whereupon the people assembled and solemnly cursed the sultan, the sultan's grandfather, the sultan's grandmother, the sultan's grand-children, and hanged the sultan's messenger, with the sultan's order in his hand. There were lovely oases in the ruin-sprinkled wilderness beyond; but the pleasures of the picturesque were somewhat diminished when the Kurds illustrated their notions of authority by giving the Christian traveller two hundred blows on the soles of his feet. He was glad to be away from them, and within the walls of Mardeen, where the Jacobite Christians dwell :—

"The Jacobites are a wild people, but goodnatnred, and with all their wild nature, they have produced great men—such as St. Ephraim, Jacob Nisibenus, and Jacob Almalfan, or Jacob the doctor. They have learned men among them to this day. At the time Wolff was there, they had still alive their great patriarch, residing in the monastery Dcirnlsafran, but who had resigned his office ns patriarch on account of his great and unexampled age, for he was one hundred and thirty years old. When Wolff was introduced to him, he found him sitting crosslegged on a carpet in a fine room, lie was a small, tliin man, rather crumpled up in figure,

with a penetrating eye, a sweet and handsome face, his beard silvery white, and hair the same, hanging down in curls. Ho was somewhat childish in mind, but spoke beautifully about the final redemption of his people, lie convinced Wolff that they were descended from the children of Israel."

He was visited in that place by the Shamseea, or secret worshippers of the sun; and departing thence, journeyed with a caravan to the mountains, and especially to the gorges of Sanjaar, inhabited by the Yezcedi, one of whom said to him, " We drink both wine and brandy in large plates the whole day long."—

"Fearful, indeed, is that spot! Dark and dim lights wander about it—they are tho ghosts of the slain. At certain times one hears howlings: they are the howlings of the damned— shrieks and grinsinys (snarlings!) of wicked spirits."

He might have proceeded from Kantara to Bagdad by water, where, he says, the Jews are mighty and rich, and their great man has still the tide, "the Prince of the Captivity;" but he was unwilling to lose an opportunity' of proselytizing by the way. It was a sad thing at the confluence of the Tigris and the Euphrates, where he firmly believes the gardens of Paradise to have been planted, to have his greatcoat stolen by a thief of tho rivers!

Away to Shiraz, ceaselessly travelling over plains and mountains, sleeping in the open air, midst torrents of rain, pursued by earthquakes, wrangling with the orthodox, and everywhere thinking very ill of the Jews:—

"Wolff had been warned what ho must expect in visiting the Jews at Shceraz, and the description of their misery had not been exaggerated. A Persian Mussulman, of whom he had inquired their condition some time bcforcH had said: 'First. Every house nt Shceraz with a low, narrow entrance, is a Jew's house. Secondly. Every man with a dirty woollen or dirty camcl's-liair turban is a Jew. Thirdly. Every coat much torn and mended about the back, with worn sleeves, is a Jew's coat. Fourthly. Every one picking up old broken glass is a Jew. Fifthly. Every one searching dirty robes, and asking for old shoes and sandals, is a Jew. Sixthly. That house into which no quadruped but a gont will enter is a Jew's.' All which things, of course, camo into Wolff's mind, as, in company with the two Armenians, he approached tho street where the Jews resided."

We hardly know when reading this work whether to regard it as strictly autobiographical, or whether to suppose that the materials have been worked up at second-hand from the notes and diaries of Dr. Wolff. Is it he, for example, or his bookmaker who is responsible for an ejaculation like the following, suggested by a visit to the prince of Shiraz: "Fire from Heaven must come down upon a court like that! Let no person dare to ask Wolff to give a description of a court like that?" We have no doubt that he might have written, without offence to the reader, an interesting, and not unedifying, account of a Persian palace. But we pass on •with him to the foot of the Caucasus, to Karrass, a town in the midst of Circassia, but belonging to the Russians:—

"One morning tremendous shrieks were hoard. "Wolff asked the reason. The Circassians had broken through the Russian line, had taken prisoners sixteen German boys, who were quietly smoking theirpipes; and having placed the boys upon their dromedaries, were flying with the swiftness of eagles towards the mountain."

Dr. Wolff has strong sympathies with Russia, and praises her administration of conquered territories; but where did he learn that the Tartars of the Aral were accustomed before their subjugation to feed on human flesh?

We do not care to deal with any portion of Dr. Wolff's memorials of his missionary labors and social adventures in Ireland and England. They betray a good deal of egotism, and not a'little ill-humor. They refer to a pleasanter period, no doubt, than that of his subsequent flight amongst the Eastern mountains, with robbers and assassins upon his track; but, after all, he is most interesting when he is most a traveller; therefore, let us part company with him when he is again on the road from Din-chund to Herat:—

"He walked the whole distance—being forty miles; and just as night had set in, two horsemen came up behind him. They were of that mighty and brave race, the Pooliij, the bravest people of Central Asia; who were afterwards entirely defeated and subdued by General Sir Charles Napier. When these two Poolnj came 'behind Wolff, they said, ' We are sent by Ameer Assaad-Oollah-Bcyk to bring yon back, because you are a spy from Abbas Mirza.' . . . 'Wolff Bad no resource, but was forced to walk back to Bnrchund, a journey which he accomplished in three days, nnd then he was brought to the old castle, which was the residence of the ameer. Those castles arc called in the Persian, ark, from which our English and German word 'ark' is derived, and it means 'a fortress.' Here Wolff was drugged into a large, dark room by the ameer's soldiers, in a rude, disrespectful way. Each of the soldiers had a matchlock gun in his hand ; with a burning, smoking torch upon it, which spread a sulphurous odor through the room. On one side of the room sat the ameer, with the chiefs of the desert around him. The ameer himself had n most beautiful eye, and pleasant countenance; and both ho and all the other chiefs had a galyoon in their months, and were smoking. On the other gido were the Moollahs sitting; and in the midst of them was a dervish of high repute, whose name was Had

jce Muhammad Jawad. Wolff was at this time in his Persian dross, and carried a Bible tinder his arm, as was his universal custom in travelling. The ameer first opened his mouth, and asked Wolff, 'Wheru do yon come from ? '— Wolff said, ' I come from England, and am going to Bokhara.'—' What do you intend to do in Bokhara 1' asked the ameer.—Wolff replied, 'I, having been a Jew, visit that nation all over the world, and wish to go to Bokhara, in order to see whether the Jews there are of the ten tribes of Israel, and to spcnk to them about Jesus.'—All in the room exclaimed, ' This man must bo devil-possessed !'"

After these and various other interrogations, he was enabled to start once more; but only to fall among thieves, to be stripped from head to foot, fastened to a horse's tail, and driven in front of his captors, who incessantly whipped him as he went. Chained in a dungeon to a gang of fifty prisoners, he was not released until the khan had interfered. After which, visiting that high potentate, he saw hundreds of men and women with their eyes cut out, and their noses and cars amputated. Upon the throne stood a great prince in that land, who had killed with his own fist his father, mother, brother, sister, and son-in-law, "and so awful -was his bodily strength that he would sometimes take hold of a prisoner and tear his* skull in two." He said to Dr. Wolff,—

"' For my part, I have no religion. I have already passed this world, and the other world. I have got, however, one good quality, and that is, I am a man of justice; I love strict justice; and, therefore, tell me the truth, and yon shall see my justice. How much money have these rascals taken from you?'—Wolff"said, 'They have taken from mo eighty tomanns.'—He repeated, 'Eighty tomauns •?' — Wolff replied, 'Yes.'—He then said, ' Now thou shalt see my justice.' So he instantly ordered Hassan Khan Coord, and all his followers, to bo dreadfully flogged. He extorted from them every farthing; and after he had got back Wolff's money, he counted it, and said, ' Now thou slinlt see my justice;' and putting the money into his own pocket, without giving Wolff a single penny, he added,' Now you may go in peace.""

It would be possible to quote many similar passages to show how adventurous has been the career of this bold-hearted missionary, whose life we could have wished to have seen written in a softer tone ; but the narrative of whose journcyings from his youthful days to the time of his halt, in 1832, at the gates of Bokhara, occupies the present interesting and important volume. A future volume will describe the celebrated mission on behalf of Messrs. Stoddart and Conolly, and will complete a work which, though disfigured by much dogmatism aad flippancy, is one calculated to fascinate almost every class of readers.

From Chambcrs's Journal. THE EULISG PASSION. One of the prettiest of the German watering-places is Schldssenbourg.

A long, straight, tedious avenue takes you to it from the bright-looking town of

F ;twelve long miles without a railway;

but when you get there, it is like a garden •with houses in it, not houses with a garden to them—a garden filled with flowers, exquisitely kept, tastefully laid out, stretching into a park and woods that an English duke might envy. Then there is a conservatory, •with tall "palm-trees and other exotics; a Chinese temple, with gaslights at night, that are contrived as if they sprang from amongst the flowers; and morning, noon, and night, music—from one of the best bands in Germany. You may sit and hear it in the garden, sipping coffee all the while, or you may go into a well-lighted room, provided with every newspaper in every language you could desire, fitted up like the most luxurious drawing-room. You may also remark in the one long street of which the town of Schldssenbourg consists, that every other house is a banker's or moneychanger's, where all kinds of facilities for obtaining or changing money are offered.

"How rich and prosperous the little town must be," you remark; "what a beneficent government;" for all these luxuries are given for nothing. No visitor is asked to pay for the expensive garden that surrounds his lodgings, or the gas, or the music, or the newspapers, or the sofas—all is generously provided b,y some invisible power. Let us walk into the noble saloon with its lofty painted ceilings, past the soft-seated newsroom, and we shall see the munificent prorider of flowers and music—the board of green cloth, the bank and its directors, the rouge et noir, and the roulette-table.

The bank is obliged to lay out a certain portion of its enormous profits every year on the place; the gardens, the conservatories, and every luxury are kept up to render attractive the temple of the blind goddess.

It is a mistake to look for fiery passions, deep despairs among the players -, most wear an outward calm; there is only a sort of fixed, haggard look and contraction of the mouth sometimes to be detected, that speaks as with an inward curse.

I had come to Schldssenbourg as the medical attendant of an old and valued friend as veil as patient. I had no money to risk, and I was determined not to be seduced by that strange chink of gold, and the atmosphere of excitement pervading the rooms.

My friend, Harry Melville, found me in the reading-room one evening. "Come," said he "Halford, as you are a philosopher,

and behold the oddest specimen you ever set eyes on, and help to make her out." We went to the roulette-table. "There she is," said Harry, " between the hat with the scarlet feather and the old snuffy Grdfin. There; she has won again. Look at her little hands gathering up the silver florins—they are like a child's hands; but her face— did you ever see such a face?"

"lean see nothing," said I, "but spectacles and a false front, and a large, old-fashioned bonnet, and a little wizzened figure. What can it be?"

"There she loses now. See how she clasps her little hands, but plays boldly again, without a moment's hesitation; only she seems to consult some written notes on a card. Lost again; poor little old lady! it is evident she is not a witch."

The heap of winnings was now reduced to a single gold piece, a double Frederick d'or. The Tittle old woman seemed to hesitate; she looked eagerly at her notes, then took up the money and disappeared so rapidly that I did not see her leave the room.

I should scarcely have remembered the circumstance or the personage who seemed to have impressed Harry so strongly, but for the appearance of the mysterious little old woman again at the table two or three days afterwards. This time I was deter, mined to watch her; it was in the afternoon rather dusk, but before the tables were lighted.

She had an umbrella, on which she leaned with a limping gait, the old bonnet, and a large, dark shawl. She went straight up to the table, and without hesitation placed a double Frederick d'or on a single number —I think it was three. I looked at her as the table turned; her hands were tightly clasped, her neck stretched out. The umbrella on which she leaned for a walking-stick had fallen down, and she did not seem aware of it.

"Elle ne toume plus—trois!" said the croupier. The little witch had won thirtysix double Fredericks.

She gave en unmistakable shout of ecstasy. "Oh, beautiful!" said a clear, shrill, child's voice, and she snatched up the gold pieces, and actually ran out of the saloon. I turned to follow, but she had disappeared, leaving the umbrella on the floor. I picked it up, thinking it might lead to some acquaintance with the mysterious little person.

My invalid had become worse, and I was much taken up with him, and did not go to the Cursaal for some days. Sitting one afternoon in the garden with him, we were listlessly watching gome children, both German and English, engaged in a game of hide-and-seek, chasing each other round the trees. A little girl, whose remarkably graceful movements had caught my attention, suddenly exclaimed with a laugh and a shout: "Oh, beautiful!"

The voice was identical—I could not mistake it—with that of the little old woman of the Cursaal. I was determined to be convinced of the fact, and when I again looked at the perfectly childish creature of eleven years old, I could not believe her to be the same. I rose from my seat as she came near, but was rather puzzled how to accost her. I have an odd sort of shyness with children, I feel so afraid of encountering either of the two extremes of shyness or pertness. At last I bethought me of the umbrella.

"Stop, my little lady!" said I, very timidly. She looked round wondering, and with the softest blue eyes in the world. "Have you not lost something lately—the other evening in the Cursaal?"

Poor little thing! all her fun and frolic were gone. She blushed and hung her head, and I saw the ready childish tears swelling under her eyelids.

"I don't know, I"—she murmured; and I felt so guilty in tempting her to an untruth, that I said at once: "You dropped your umbrella when you were dressed up the other evening."

She came quite close up to me; all her shyness was gone. "O sir," she said, "if you have found me out, don't tell upon me, pray, don't. Never mind the umbrella; and, sir, if you should see me again, so, dressed like an old woman, don't take any notice."

"But, my dear little girl, or my dear old lady, I cannot promise any thing, because I am sure I should laugh. What can be the reason of such a disguise?"

She had not the shadow of a smile as she answered: "I cannot and may not tell you; and perhaps I was wrong not to say at once, 'No, it was not my umbrella'—and yet that would be a story. It is so hard to know what is right; isn't it, sir, sometimes?"

Her companions here came to call her to play, but she said in German—which she spoke like a native—" No, I must go home now." Then turning to me with a sort of involuntary confidence, she said: "There is nobody but me now to attend to poor papa, and it was very wrong indeed of me to stay playing here."

"I wish," said I, "you would tell me something more of yourself; I might help you, perhaps, and your papa too."

She shook her head sadly. "I dare not," she said. "It would vex him so much that he might die. We don't want any thing now—just now, I mean; only, if you see me

again there, don't tell anybody; for, you know,"—this she said in a whisper, " they wont let children play."

She went away out of the garden with a sedate step, and her face, thin and pale when not animated, had lost its childish expression. I watched her, and longed to follow and know what the mystery was. She stopped, and looked back hesitating, and I instantly joined her. "Shall I send your umbrella," said I, "or bring it you here tomorrow?"

"Never mind that," she said. "If you will only tell me where you live—I may—I don't know; but papa wont let anybody come, and we may—0 sir, we may want a friend!" She burst into tears, and then, with an effort to repress her sobs, said: "Tell me where you live?"

I readily gave her my card, and pressed her slight little hand as she ran away.

A few days after that, in the Cursaal, I again saw the strange little figure. I went and stood opposite to her, but I believe she did not see me. She had, as before, a double Frederick d'or, which she changed into silver, and began to play first cautiously, and consulting some written directions, and winning every time; she then staked gold pieces, and again won. Then grew more reckless, and placed high stakes on a single number—she lost; staked again—lost again, and then her last remaining gold pieces were raked off. I could not see her face for the absurd disguise, but as I saw her glide from the table, I instinctively followed. She rushed down the steps, and into the garden. When I came up, she had thrown herself on a garden-seat, had torn off her disguise, and with her childish hands covering her face, was sobbing in the bitterest despair. When she looked up, on hearing my step, it wa« sad to see such wild sorrow in a child's face. "My poor child," said I, going up to her, "what is it?"

"O sir, O sir," she sobbed, "that cruel man!" Then a sudden idea seized her; she sprang up. "Don't you think, for once, only once, he would give me back a little money, and let me try again P"

"I think not," I said. "How is it that you do this, and know so little? Tell me all, and let me perhaps help you."

She looked wistfully in my face. "If you would lend me a Frederick d'or, I should be sure to win this time."

"I will lend it to you," I said, "but not to play—take it home."

She hung back, and blushed. "I dare not—I cannot go home." Then she burst into a passion of sobs, exclaiming: "Oh, no; papa would die: it would kill him to see me come home with nothing—all lost!"

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