The wonders of the world

There are in Egypt and the valley of the Nile, numerous other ruins, relics and monuments of the mighty past, on which it would be most interesting and instructive to dwell, were they not overshadowed by the wonderful structures we have been considering. Some of these, however, ought not to be passed without notice.

THE TEMPLE OF DENDERA.

The temple of Dendera (formerly Tentyra) is on the western bank of the Nile, nearly opposite Kenneh. Passing from the latter place, the path of the traveler leads through a palm grove, where the lofty shafts of the date and the vaulted foliage of the doum-palm, blend in the most picturesque groupage, and in contrast with the lace-like texture of the flowering mimosa, and the cloudy boughs of a kind of gray cypress. Crossing the meadows to Dendera, leagues of rank grass roll away toward the desert in shining billows, while the wind wafts the rich and mingled odors of the various flowers on the traveler’s course. In the midst of this beautiful plain, rise the earthy mounds of Dendera; and the portico of the temple, almost buried beneath them, stands like a beacon, marking the boundary of the desert. “We galloped our animals along the dike,” says a late traveler, “and dismounted at a small pylon, which stands two or three hundred paces in front of the temple. The huge jambs of sandstone, covered with sharply cut hieroglyphics and figures of the Egyptian gods, and surmounted by a single block, bearing the mysterious winged globe and serpent, detained us but a moment, and we hurried down what was once the dromos of the temple, now represented by a double wall of unburnt bricks. The portico, more than a hundred feet in length, and supported by six columns, united by screens of masonry, no stone of which, or of the columns themselves, is unsculptured, is massive and imposing, but struck me as being too depressed to produce a very grand effect. What was my astonishment, on arriving at the entrance, to find that I had approached the temple on a level with half its hight, and that the pavement of the portico was as far below as the scrolls of its cornice were above me. The six columns I had seen, covered three other rows, of six each, all adorned with the most elaborate sculpture and exhibiting traces of the brilliant coloring which they once possessed. The entire temple, which is in an excellent state of preservation, except where the hand of the Coptic Christian has defaced its sculptures, was cleaned out by order of Mohammed Ali, and as all its chambers, as well as the roof of enormous sandstone blocks, are entire, it is considered one of the most complete relics of Egyptian art. I find my pen at fault, when I attempt to describe the impression produced by the splendid portico. The twenty-four columns, each of which is sixty feet in hight, and eight feet in diameter, crowded upon a surface of one hundred feet by seventy, are oppressive in their grandeur. The dim light, admitted through the half closed front, which faces the north, spreads a mysterious gloom around these mighty shafts, crowned with the fourfold visage of Athor, still rebuking the impious hands that have marred her solemn beauty. On the walls, between columns of hieroglyphics, and the cartouches of the Cæsars and the Ptolemies, appear the principal Egyptian deities, the rigid Osiris, the stately Isis and the hawk-headed Orus. Around the bases of the columns spring the leaves of the sacred lotus, and the dark-blue ceiling is spangled with stars, between the wings of the divine emblem. The sculptures are all in raised relief, and there is no stone in the temple without them. I can not explain to myself the unusual emotion I felt while contemplating this wonderful combination of a simple and sublime architectural style with the utmost elaboration of ornament. My blood pulsed fast and warm on my first view of the Roman forum, but in Dendera I was so saddened and oppressed, that I scarcely dared speak for fear of betraying an unmanly weakness. The portico opens into a hall, supported by six beautiful columns, of smaller proportions, and lighted by a square aperture in the solid roof. On either side are chambers connected with dim and lofty passages, and beyond is the sanctuary and various other apartments, which receive no light from without. We examined their sculptures by the aid of torches, and our Arab attendants kindled large fires of dry corn-stalks, which cast a strong red light on the walls. The temple is devoted to Athor, the Egyptian Venus, and her image is everywhere seen, receiving the homage of her worshipers. Even the dark staircase, leading to the roof, up which we climbed over heaps of sand and rubbish, is decorated throughout with processions of symbolical figures. The drawing has little of that grotesque stiffness which I expected to find in Egyptian sculptures, and the execution is so admirable in its gradations of light and shade, as to resemble, at a little distance, a monochromatic painting. The antiquarians view these remains with little interest, as they date from the comparatively recent era of the Ptolemies, at which time sculpture and architecture were on the decline. We, who had seen nothing else of the kind, were charmed with the grace and elegance of this sumptuous mode of decoration. Part of the temple was built by Cleopatra, whose portrait, with that of her son Cæsarion, may still be seen on the exterior wall. The face of the colossal figure has been nearly destroyed, but there is a smaller one, whose soft, voluptuous outline is still sufficient evidence of the justness of her renown. The profile is exquisitely beautiful. The forehead and nose approach the Greek standard, but the mouth is more roundly and delicately curved, and the chin and cheek are fuller. Were such an outline made plastic, were the blank face colored with a pale olive hue, through which should blush a faint, rosy tinge, lighted with bold black eyes and irradiated with the lightning of a passionate nature, it would even now ‘move the mighty hearts of captains and of kings.’ Besides the temple, there are also the remains of a chapel of Isis, with a pylon, erected by Augustus Cæsar, and a small temple, nearly whelmed in the sand, supposed to be one of the mammeisi, or lying-in houses of the goddess Athor, who was honored in this form, on account of having given birth to the third member of the divine triad.”

THE TEMPLES OF HERMONTIS AND OF ESNEH.

Passing up the Nile, on the same side of it, and nearly opposite Luxor and Karnak, is the village of Erment, the ancient Hermontis, which is still graced with a small temple to the goddess Reto. “The group of pillars in the outer court,” says Taylor, “charmed us by the richness and variety of their designs. No two capitals are of similar pattern, while in their combinations of the papyrus, the lotus and the palm-leaf, they harmonize one with another and as a whole. The abacus, between the capital and the architrave, is so high as almost to resemble a second shaft. In Karnak and the Memnonium it is narrow, and lifts the ponderous beam just enough to prevent its oppressing the lightness of the capital. I was so delighted with the pillars of Hermontis that I scarcely knew whether to call this peculiarity a grace or a defect. I have never seen it employed in modern architecture, and judge therefore that it has either been condemned by our rules or that our architects have not the skill and daring of the Egyptians. We reached Esneh the same night, but were obliged to remain all the next day in order to allow our sailors to bake their bread. We employed the time in visiting the temple, the only remnant of the ancient Latopolis, and the palace of Abbas Pasha, on the bank of the Nile. The portico of the temple, half buried in rubbish, like that of Dendera, which it resembles in design, is exceedingly beautiful. Each of its twenty-four columns is crowned with a different capital, so chaste and elegant in their execution that it is impossible to give any one the preference. The designs are mostly copied from the doum-palm, the date-palm, and the lotus, but the cane, the vine, and various water-plants are also introduced. The building dates from the time of the Ptolemies, and its sculptures are uninteresting. We devoted all our time to the study of the capitals, a labyrinth of beauty, in which we were soon entangled. The governor of Esneh, a most friendly and agreeable Arab, accompanied us through the temple, and pointed out all the fishes, birds and crocodiles he could find, to him the most interesting things in it.” The same day they also visited the rock tombs of El-Kab, the ancient Eleuthyas, which are among the most curious in Egypt. “There are a large number of these, but only two are worth visiting, on account of the light which they throw on the social life of the Egyptians. The owner of the tomb and his wife, a red man and a yellow woman, are here seen, receiving the delighted guests. Seats are given them, and each is presented with an aromatic flower, while the servants in the kitchen hasten to prepare savory dishes. In other compartments, all the most minute processes of agriculture are represented with wonderful fidelity. So little change has taken place in three thousand years, that they would answer, with scarcely a correction, as illustrations of the Fellah agriculture of modern Egypt.”

The northern part of Nubia abounds in Egyptian remains, such, for example, as the temples of Dabod, Kalabshee, Dakkeh, Dendoor, Sebooa, &c., &c.; and the whole valley of the Nile is filled with the ruins of cities whose names have hardly survived their overthrow. Noticing but two or three more of these ruins, we will then pass on to other themes.

ABYDOS, AND THE TEMPLE OF MEMNON.

Abydos was the reputed burial-place of Osiris, one of the most sacred gods of ancient Egypt. According to Strabo, it formerly held the next rank to Thebes, and judging from its ruins, Wilkinson thinks it yielded to few cities in upper Egypt in size and magnificence. Going toward it from Girgeh, says Thompson, “we came upon a mound of sand and dust, and broken bricks and pottery, strewed over with bleaching human bones, and ascending this for several rods, and to an elevation of about sixty feet, we came out upon the massive blocks of stone that form the roof of the old temple-palace of Memnon. Here, crawling upon our hands and knees, we got under the roof far enough to see that it covers two large halls supported by rows of massive columns, whose capitals are in the form of the lotus bud, still distinctly preserved. The walls, as far as could be seen, are covered with sculptures, among which the ibis frequently recurs; there are also ceremonial processions and battle scenes, such as are usually depicted in the sculptures of Egyptian temples. No doubt, if this temple should be excavated, it would be one of the most remarkable monuments in Egypt. It dates back nearly fourteen hundred years before Christ. The formation of the roof was peculiar. Large blocks of stone were laid endwise from one row of columns to the other, and then an arch was hollowed out of this solid masonry, still leaving a roof two feet in thickness at its center. The stones were so nicely adjusted, that they fitted closely without cement. The ceiling was studded with stars, and with sculptures beautifully colored. I have not seen in Egypt more exquisite workmanship. Yet the visitor is doomed to disappointment through the great difficulty of access to the temple, in consequence of the drifting in of the sand from the desert and the neighboring mountains. Near by is another temple, also inaccessible, the temple of Osiris, built by the great Remeses, and enriched with alabaster walls, some fragments of which may yet be found. The neighboring mountains are filled with tombs, some of which are nearly four thousand years old. Everything indicates that here was the site of a great city, a city of wealth, population and power, enriched with trophies of conquest and monuments of religion. But these buried temples alone remain, and the Arabs, who now squat in their rags upon the top of the splendid sanctuary of Osiris, have given to the place the expressive name of ‘The Buried.’”

THE TEMPLES OF ABOU SIMBEL.

Passing up the Nile to about latitude twenty-two degrees, on its west side, nearly up to the second cataract, we come to the temples of Abou Simbel. Reaching the bank of the river about midnight, the traveler we have so often quoted tells us: “As I was awakened from a deep sleep by the shock of the boat striking the shore, I saw a huge wall of rock before me, against which six enormous statues leaned as they looked from deep niches cut in its front. Their solemn faces were touched by the moon, which shone full on the cliff, and only their feet were wrapped in shadow. The lines of deep-cut hieroglyphics over the portal of this rocky temple were also filled with shadow, and painted legibly on the gray, moonlit rock. Below them yawned the door, a square of complete darkness. A little to the left, over a long drift of sand that sloped from the summit of the cliff nearly to the water’s edge, peered the mitered head of a statue of still more colossal proportions. I gazed on this broad, dim, and wonderful picture for a moment, so awed by its majesty that I did not ask myself where nor what it was. This is some grand Egyptian dream, was my first thought, and I closed my eyes for a few seconds, to see whether it would vanish. But it stood fast and silent as ever, and I knew it to be Abou Simbel. My servants all slept, and the raïs and boys noiselessly moored the boat to the shore, and then lay down and slept also. Still I lay, and the great statues looked solemnly down upon me, and the moon painted their kingly nomens and banners with yet darker distinctness on the gray rock. In the morning, I found that we lay at the foot of the smaller temple. I quietly waited for my cup of coffee, for the morning reality was infinitely less grand than my vision of the night. I then climbed to the door and entered. The interior is not large nor imposing, after one has seen the temples of Egypt. The exterior, however, is on such a colossal scale, that, notwithstanding the want of proportion in the different statues, the effect is very striking. The largest ones are about thirty-five feet high, and not identical, as are those of the great temple. One, who stands with one leg advanced, while he holds a sword with the handle pressed against his breast, is executed with much more spirit than is usually met with in statues of this period. The sculptures of the interior are interesting, and being of the time of Remeses the Great, whose history they illustrate, are executed with much skill and labor. The head of the goddess Athor, on the face of the columns in the hall, is much less beautiful than that of the same goddess at Dendera. It is, in fact, almost broad and distorted enough to represent the genius Typhon.

“The front of the great temple is not parallel to that of the other, nor does it face the river, which here flows in a north-east course. The line of the cliff is broken between the two, so that the figures of the great Remeses, seated on each side of the door, look to the east, the direction of the line of the face being nearly north. Through the gap in front, the sands have poured down from the desert behind, almost wholly filling up the space between the two cliffs; and though since the temple was first opened, in 1817, it has been cleared nearly to the base more than once, the rapid accumulation of sand has again almost closed the entrance. The southern colossus is only buried about half-way to the knee, but of the two northern ones there is little else to be seen except the heads. Obscured as is the effect of this grand front, it is still without parallel in the world. I had not thought it possible that in statues of such enormous magnitude there could be such singular beauty of expression. The face of Remeses, the same in each, is undoubtedly a portrait, as it resembles the faces of the statues in the interior, and those of the king in other places. Besides, there is an individuality in some of the features which is too marked to represent any general type of the Egyptian head. The fullness of the drooping eyelid, which yet does not cover the large, oblong Egyptian eye; the nose, at first slightly inclining to the aquiline, but curving to the round, broad nostrils; the generous breadth of the calm lips, and the placid, serene expression of the face, are worthy of the conqueror of Africa and the builder of Karnak and Medeenet Abou. The statue next the door, on the southern side, has been shivered to the throne on which it is seated, and the fragments are not to be seen, except a few which lie upon the knees. The great doorway of the temple is so choked up with sand, that I was obliged to creep in on my knees. The sun by this time had risen exactly to the only point where it can illumine the interior; and the rays, taking a more yellow hue from the rock and sand on which they fell, shone down the long drift between the double row of colossal statues, and lighted up the entrance to the second hall of the temple. I sat down in the sand, awed and half frightened by the singular appearance of the place. The sunshine, falling obliquely on the sands, struck a dim reflection against the sculptured roof, and even lighted up the furthest recesses of the grand hall sufficiently to show its imposing dimensions. Eight square pillars, four on either side of the central aisle, seem to uphold the roof, and on their inner sides, facing each other, are eight statues of the king. The features of all are preserved, and have something of the grace and serenity, though not the majesty, of the great statues outside. They look into each other’s eyes, with an eternal question on their fixed countenances, but none can give answer. There was something so stern and strange in these eight faces, that I felt a shudder of fear creep over me. The strong arms are all crossed on their breasts, and the hands hold various sacred and regal symbols, conspicuous among which is something resembling a flail, which one sees often in Egyptian sculpture. I thought of a marvelous story I once read, in which a genie, armed with a brazen flail, stands at the entrance of an enchanted castle, crushing with the stroke of his terrible weapon all who come to seek the treasure within. For a moment the childish faith in the supernatural was as strong as ever, and I looked at the gloomy entrance beyond, wishing to enter, but fearing the stony flails of the terrible Remesi on either hand. The faces were once partially colored, and the black eyeball, still remaining on the blank eye of stone, gives them an expression of stupor, of death in life, which accounted to me for the nervous shock I experienced on entering.

“There is nothing in Egypt which can be likened to the great temple of Abou-Simbel. Karnak is grander, but its grandeur is human. This belongs rather to the superhuman fancies of the East—the halls of the Afrites—or to the realm of the dethroned Titans, of early Greek mythology. This impression is not diminished, on passing the second hall and corridor, and entering the adytum, or sacred chamber of the temple. There the granite altar yet stands in the center, before the undestroyed figures of the gods, who, seated side by side, calmly await the offerings of their worshipers. The peculiar individuality of each deity is strikingly shown in these large statues, and their attitude is much less constrained than in the sitting statues in the tombs of Thebes. These look as if they could rise, if they would. The walls are covered with sculptures of them and of the contemplar deities, in the grand, bold style of the age of Remeses. Some visitors had left a supply of dry palm-branches near the entrance, and of these I made torches, which blazed and crackled fiercely, flaring with a rich red light on the sculptured and painted walls. There was sufficient to enable me to examine all the smaller chambers, of which there are eight or nine, cut laterally into the rock, without any attempt at symmetry of form, or regularity of arrangement. Several of them have seats running around three sides, exactly like the divans in modern Egyptian houses. They were probably designed for the apartments of the priests or servants connected with the temple. The sculptures on the walls of the grand hall are, after those of Medeenet Abou, and on the exterior wall of Karnak, the most interesting I have seen in Egypt. On the end wall, on either side of the entrance, is a colossal bass-relief, representing Remeses slaying a group of captive kings, whom he holds by the hair of their heads. There are ten or twelve in each group, and the features, though they are not colored, exhibit the same distinction of race as I had previously remarked in Belzoni’s tomb, at Thebes. There is the negro, the Persian, the Jew, and one other form of countenance which I could not make out, all imploring with uplifted hands the mercy of the conqueror. On the southern wall, the distinction between the negro and the Egyptian is made still more obvious by the coloring of the figures. In fact, I see no reason whatever to doubt that the peculiar characteristics of the different races of men were as strongly marked in the days of Remeses as at present. The sculptures on the side walls of the temple represent the wars of Remeses, who, as at Medeenet Abou, stands in a chariot which two horses at full speed whirl into the ranks of the enemy. The king discharges his arrows against them, and directly in front of him a charioteer, mortally wounded, is hurled from his overthrown chariot. The groups are chiseled with great spirit and boldness; the figures of the king and his horses are full of life. Towering over all, as well by his superior proportions as by the majesty and courage of his attitude, Remeses stands erect and motionless amid the shock and jar and riot of battle. There is no exultation in his face; only the inflexible calmness of destiny. I spent some time contemplating these grand and remarkable memorials of the greatest age of Egypt, and left with my feeling for Egyptian art even stronger than before.”

Though the river Nile is properly to be classified with the wonders of nature, rather than with those of art, yet as it is so intimately and constantly associated with the wonderful ruins that everywhere line its banks, it may be well to notice it before passing from the wonders of Egypt and of the regions south of it. This celebrated river, which divides Egypt into two parts, and passes on south through Nubia, Ethiopia, &c., is formed mainly by two streams, the Blue Nile and the White Nile. The Blue Nile, the sources of which were discovered by Bruce, rises near latitude eleven degrees north, in the mountains of Godjam, on the south-western frontier of Abyssinia, and flows with a winding course some eight hundred miles to Khartoum, where it unites with the western branch of the river, thus forming the main stream. The sources of the White Nile (so called from the light brown, muddy color of its waters, as the Blue is from the dark bluish-green of its stream) are as yet undiscovered. Twelve hundred miles above its junction, and thirty-three hundred above the Mediterranean, it is still a broad and powerful stream, of whose source even the tribes that dwell in those far off regions are ignorant. Taylor is confident, that when its hidden fountains shall at last be reached, and the problem of twenty centuries solved, the entire length of the Nile will be found to be not less than four thousand miles, and that it will take rank with the Mississippi and the Amazon, as one of the three great streams of the world. In some respects, he says, “there is a striking resemblance between the Nile and the former river. The Missouri is the true Mississippi, rolling the largest flood, and giving its color to the mingled streams. So the White Nile, which is broad and turbid, pollutes the clear blue flood that has usurped his name and dignity. In spite of what geographers may say, and they are still far from being united on the subject, the Blue Nile is not the true Nile. There, at the point of junction, his volume of water is greater, but he is fresh from the mountains and constantly fed by large, unfailing affluents, while the White Nile has rolled for more than a thousand miles on nearly a dead level, through a porous, alluvial soil, in which he loses more water than he brings with him.” The two rivers meet at right angles, but do not mingle their waters till they have rolled some eight or ten miles in their common bed. Both rivers are of about the same breadth at the point of confluence, but the current of the Blue branch is the strongest. On this account, the native boatmen speak of the Blue river as he, and of the White as she. And it is remarkable that the name Nile, which is never heard in Egypt, (where the river is called el-bahr, “the sea,”) is retained in Ethiopia, and there applied to the Blue Nile, probably for the same reason.

The White Nile has been traced up by Dr. Knoblecher and his associates further than by any one before him. In January, 1850, he passed the furthest point reached by any previous expedition; and on the sixteenth of that month reached the village of Logwek, which takes its name from a solitary granite peak about six hundred feet high, which stands on the left bank of the Nile. This is in latitude four degrees and ten minutes north, and is the most southern point which has yet been reached on the White Nile. Dr. Knoblecher ascended the mountain, which commanded a view of almost the entire Bari country. Toward the south-west the river wound out of sight between the mountains Rego and Kidi, near which is the mountain of Kereg, containing rich iron mines which are worked by the natives; and to the south, on the very verge of the horizon, rose a long range of hills, whose forms could not be observed with exactness, owing to the great distance. Beyond the Logwaya range, which appeared in the east, dwell the Berri tribes, whose language is distinct from the Baris, and who are neighbors of the Gallas, that warlike race, whose domain extends from Abyssinia to the wilds of Mozambique, along the great central plateau of Uniamesi. The natives of Logwek knew nothing whatever of the country to the south. The furthest mountain range was probably under the parallel of latitude three degrees north, so that the White Nile has now been traced nearly to the equator. At Logwek, it was about six hundred and fifty feet wide, and from five to eight feet deep, at the time of Dr. Knoblecher’s visit, which was during the dry season. Such an abundance of water allows us to estimate with tolerable certainty the distance to its unknown sources, which must undoubtedly lie beyond the equator. The great snow mountain of Kilimandjarò, discovered in 1850 by Dr. Krapf, the German missionary, on his journey inland from Mombas, on the coast of Zanzibar, has been located by geographers in latitude three degrees south. It is therefore most probable that the source of the White Nile will be found in the range of mountains, of which Kilimandjarò is the crowning apex. The geographer Berghaus, in a long and labored article, endeavors to prove that the Gazelle river is the true Nile, and makes it rise in the great lake N’Yassi, in latitude thirteen degrees south. Dr. Knoblecher, however, who examined the Bahr el-Ghazàl at its mouth, says it is an unimportant stream, with a scarcely perceptible current. He considers the White Nile as being, beyond all question, the true river.

Following the river on to its mouth, the greater part of lower Egypt is contained in a triangular island, formed by the Mediterranean sea, and the two great branches of the Nile, which dividing itself five or six miles from Old Cairo, flows on the one side to the north-east, falling into the sea at Damietta; while the other branch runs to the north-west, and enters the sea at Rosetta. What is called the Delta, resembling the Greek letter of that name, and constituting a triangle, is thus formed. The water of the Nile is here, for the most part, thick and muddy, more particularly when the river is swollen by the heavy rains which constantly fall within the tropics in the beginning of the summer season, and which are doubtless the principal cause of its overflowing the low lands of Egypt. A similar phenomenon is found in the Ganges; and it is the same with all the rivers which have either their rise or course within the tropics: they annually break their bounds, and cover the lands for many miles on each side, before they reach the sea. They likewise leave prolific mud, which, like that of the Nile, fertilizes the land; beside which, the north winds prevailing about the latter end of May, drive in the waters from the sea, and keep back those of the river, in such a manner as considerably to assist the swell. The Egyptians, and the Copts more especially, are persuaded that the Nile always begins to rise on the same day of the year; as, indeed, it generally commences about the same time in June. Its rise was observed for three successive years by Dr. Pococke, who found it to ascend during the first five days from five to ten inches; and it thus continued rising till it had attained the hight of nine feet, when the canal of Cairo was cut. It then rose from three to five inches only in the day; for, having spread over the land and entered the canal, although more water might have descended than before, its rise was less considerable. The other canals were now laid open at stated times, and those which water the lower grounds the last. These canals are carried along the highest parts of the country, so that from their elevation the water may be conveyed to the valleys. So important is this matter of the rise and fall of the river to the whole country, that a thin column or pillar, called the Nilometer, has been erected, to mark the elevation or depression of its waters. A view of it is given in the cut following. It is situated in the middle of a round tower, on the island of Rhoda, not far from Cairo, in the middle of the river. In this tower is a marble cistern, through which the Nile flows; its bottom and the bottom of the river being on the same level. From the center of this cistern rises a slender pillar, as seen in the engraving, marked off into twenty divisions of twenty inches each; the entire space marked on the column being somewhat more than thirty-six feet. This column is of the greatest interest to the people, as connected with their prospects of a harvest; and of the greatest importance to the government, as enabling it to fix the tribute, or tax, according to the hight of the inundation. The tower in which it is placed, is lighted by some eighteen or twenty windows, which form a belt around the base of the dome; and beneath these, and above the cistern, are rooms or apartments for those who come to see the hight of the waters, from which rooms a flight of some thirty stone steps leads to the marble pavement in the center of which the cistern and Nilometer are placed. As soon as the attendants ascertain that the overflow will be such as to fertilize all the land, the large canals are all opened with great ceremony and rejoicing. And as soon as the waters retire again from the fields, they are sown with all kinds of grain, so that in a short space of time the whole face of the country is variegated with the rich hues of the flowering plants and the ripening grain.

The Nile has one peculiar characteristic. Other rivers being supplied by rivulets, the ground is lowest near their banks; but as no water flows into the Nile in its passage throughout Egypt, and as it is necessary that this river should overflow the land, the country is generally lower at a distance from, than near to it; and, in most parts, the land has a gradual descent from the river to the foot of the hills, which terminate the sandy plains most benefited by the irrigation. Among other remarkable appearances, the celebrated Bruce notices a very singular one attendant on the inundation of the Nile. In Abyssinia, the early part of the morning is constantly clear in that season, with a fine sunshine. About nine, a small cloud, not above four feet in apparent breadth, appears in the east, whirling violently round as if on an axis; but having approached nearly to the zenith, it first abates its motion, and then loses its form, extending itself greatly, and seeming to call up vapors from all the opposite quarters. The clouds thus formed having attained nearly the same hight, rush against each other with great violence, and remind the spectator of Elisha foretelling rain on Mount Carmel. The air being impelled before the heaviest mass, or swiftest mover, makes an impression of its form on the collection of clouds opposite; and the moment it has taken possession of the space made to receive it, the most violent thunder possible to be conceived follows instantly, attended by rain. After some hours the sky again clears, with a wind at north; and it is always disagreeably cold when the thermometer is below sixty-three degrees.

Dr. Clarke, in his travels, draws the following elegant picture of this most interesting river.

“Here we were unexpectedly greeted with an astonishing view of the Nile, the Delta, and the numerous groves in the neighborhood of Rosetta. The scene is beyond description. The sudden contrast it offers, opposed to the desert we had traversed, the display of riches and abundance poured forth by the fertility of this African paradise, with all the local circumstances of reflection excited by an extensive prospect of the Nile, and of the plains of Egypt, render it one of the most interesting sights in the world. The beautiful boats of the Nile, with their large, wide-spreading sails, were passing up and down the river. Unable to quit the spot, we dismissed our guides, and remained some time contemplating the delightful picture. Afterward, descending on foot, close by the superb mosque of Abu-Mandur, we continued our walks along the bank of the river, through gardens richer than imagination can portray, beneath the shade of enormous overhanging branches of sycamore and fig trees, amid bowers of roses, and through groves of date, citron, lime and banana trees, to Rosetta.”

THE BARRAGE, OR GREAT DAM OF THE NILE.

We end our sketches of Egypt, and the Nile, by a notice of the barrage, or great dam, at the northern part of the Delta, just below where the river divides into the two great streams which empty themselves at Rosetta on the west, and Damietta on the east. This immense work, which is hardly heard of out of Egypt, is one of the greatest undertakings of modern times. It is nothing less than a damming of the Nile, so as to hold back its waters and keep them in reserve, till, by letting them out, at the proper seasons, two inundations may be produced each year, and so the crops doubled throughout the Delta. This great work is not only projected, but far advanced toward completion. Each branch of the river is to be spanned by sixty-two arches, besides a central gateway ninety feet in breadth, and flanked by lofty stone towers. The point of the Delta, between the two dams, is protected by a curtain of solid masonry, and the abutments which it joins are fortified by towers sixty or seventy feet in hight. The piers have curved breakwaters on the upper side, while the opposite parapet of the arches rises high above them, so that the dam consists of three successive terraces, and presents itself like a wedge, against the force of such an immense body of water. The material is brick, faced with stone. When complete, it is intended to close the side arches during low water, leaving only the central gateway open. By this means sufficient water will be gained to fill all the irrigating canals, while a new channel, cut through the center of the Delta, will render productive a vast tract of fertile land. The project is a grand one, and the only obstacle to its success is the light, porous character of the alluvial soil on which the piers are founded. The undertaking was planned and commenced by M. Linant, and has been continued by other engineers. “The Egyptian boatmen,” says Taylor, “have reason to complain of the barrage. The main force of the river is poured through the narrow space wherein the piers have not yet been sunk, which can not be passed without a strong north wind. Forty or fifty boats were lying along the shore, waiting the favorable moment. We obtained permission from the engineer to attach our boat to a large government barge, which was to be drawn up by a stationary windlass. As we put off, the wind freshened, and we were slowly urged against the current to the main rapid, and at last reached smoother water, and sailed off gaily for Cairo.”

THE AFRICAN BIRDS’ NEST.

Before passing to the ruins of some of the cities of antiquity, we would here, by way of variety, briefly describe the wonderful and curious nest of the “sociable weavers,” as they are called, which abound in some parts of Africa; a view of which is given in the engraving below. Hundreds of these birds, in one community, join to form a structure of interwoven grass, containing various apartments, all covered by a sloping roof, which is extended, from year to year, as the increase of their numbers may require. A traveler, having examined one of these huge nests, found it to consist mainly of grass, without any mixture, but so firmly basketed together as to be impenetrable to the rain, and extending like a canopy over all the particular nests built by the individual birds. The one he examined contained no less than three hundred and twenty cells.

Returning from this digression, we now pass to the notice of some of the ruins of the cities of antiquity; and first to the

This noble city of ancient Syria, also called Tadmor, is of uncertain date and origin, but is thought by some to have been the “Tadmor in the wilderness” built by Solomon. The first view of the city is exceedingly magnificent, the snow-white appearance of the innumerable columns and buildings, contrasting strikingly with the yellow sand of the desert. Its ruins are not to be compared, as to the size of the gates, columns and temples, with those of Balbec or Thebes; but they are more remarkable for their vast extent, and are less encumbered with modern fabrics than most ancient remains. They consist of temples, palaces, gateways and porticos of Grecian architecture, scattered over an extent of several miles. One of the most remarkable of them is the temple of the Sun, the ruins of which extend over a square of more than two hundred yards. The temple itself, which points north and south, is thirty-three yards in length and about fourteen in width. At its center, on the west side, is a magnificent entry, on the remains of which vines and clusters of grapes are carved in a bold and masterly imitation of nature. Over the door is a pair of wings, extending the whole breadth. Its north extremity is adorned with curious fret-work and bass-relief, and in the center is a dome, or cupola, about ten feet in diameter, of solid stone. To the north of this is an obelisk of seven large stones, which probably once supported a statue; and about a quarter of a mile distant are others similar to it, as if forming originally part of a continued row.

About one hundred paces from the middle obelisk, straight forward, is a magnificent entry to a piazza, forty feet in breadth and more than half a mile in length, inclosed with two rows of marble pillars twenty-six feet high, and eight or nine feet in compass. Of these there still remain one hundred and twenty-nine; and by a moderate computation, there could not have been originally less than five hundred and sixty. At the west side of this piazza are several apertures for gates into the court of the palace, each of them ornamented with four porphyry pillars, not standing in a line with those of the wall, but placed by couples in the front of the gate facing the palace, two on each side. Two of these only remain entire, and one only standing in its place. They are thirty feet in length, and nine in circumference. On the east side of the piazza stand a great number of marble pillars, some perfect, but the greater part mutilated. In one place eleven of them are ranged in a square, the space they inclose being paved with broad flat stones, but without any remains of a roof. At a little distance are the remains of a small temple, also without a roof, and having its walls much defaced. Before the entry, which faces the south, is a piazza supported by six pillars, two on each side of the door, and one at each end. The pedestals of those in front have been filled with inscriptions, both in the Greek and Palmyrene languages, which are become totally illegible. Among these ruins are many sepulchers, ranged on each side of a hollow way toward the north part of the city, and extending more than a mile; some being mere heaps of rubbish; others half fallen, exposing their shattered chambers; while one or two remain almost entire. They are built in the shape of square towers, from three to four stories in hight, each forming a sepulchral chamber, with recesses divided into compartments for the reception of the bodies. Some of the chambers are beautifully ornamented with Corinthian pilasters and sculptures, almost in perfect preservation, executed in bold relief; the walls are of white stucco, and the ceilings are divided into diamond-shaped compartments, delicately ornamented with white stars on a blue ground; while over the doorways are inscriptions both in the Greek and Palmyrene languages. The outsides are of common stone; but the floors and partitions of each story are of marble. A walk crosses the center of this range of buildings, and the space on each side is subdivided by thick walls, into six partitions, the space between which is wide enough to receive the largest corpse. In these niches six or seven are piled on one another.

RUINS OF BALBEC.

Baal-bec, or Balbec, is supposed by many to be the same as Baal-ath, built by Solomon in Lebanon, as mentioned in the eighth chapter of the second book of Chronicles. Its magnificent ruins are described by Mr. Bruce as even surpassing what he had seen at Palmyra. He was particularly struck by the splendid vestiges of the great temple, supposed to have been dedicated to the sun. The castle of Balbec, or tower of Lebanon, is described by Leander, a Carmelite monk, in his interesting travels, as a surprising monument of antiquity, built according to the tradition of the natives, by Solomon. His relation is as follows. “Balbec is distant from Damascus, toward the north, about fifty miles, and on the southern side is watered by springs and rivulets, brought thither, no doubt, to fill the ditches by which it was to have been surrounded for defense, but which were not completed. It is situated on the lofty summit of a hill, in approaching which the façade of the castle is seen, having two towers at its right angles, between which is a great portico, resembling the mouth of a vast cave, and provided with very strong walls. That on the right hand, by which the portico is attached to the tower, from the west to the north, is composed of four stones only, the fifth, which was to have completed the fabric, being deficient. The length of each of these stones is not less than sixty-two feet, and their breadth and hight thirteen. They are so artfully brought together, without any cement, that they appear to be only one solid block. The remainder of the wall to the left is of hewn stones, well cemented with quick-lime, the smallest of which are six feet in length, and four feet and six inches in hight: there are many which are upward of fifteen feet in length, but the hight of all of them is the same.

“Having entered the cavern by the grand portico, the traveler proceeds in obscurity to the distance of eighteen paces, when he at length perceives a ray of light proceeding from the aperture of the door which conducts to the center. At each of the sides, and within this grand portico, is a flight of stone steps which leads to the subterraneous prisons. Their aspect is horrid, and they were formerly dangerous, being frequented by banditti and robbers, who would plunder, kill, and here bury such wretched travelers as were imprudently led by their curiosity to penetrate, and risk the descent without being well escorted. Following the road above, by the cavern, to the extent of fifty paces, an ample area of a spherical figure presents itself, surrounded by majestic columns of granite, some of them of a single piece, and others formed of two pieces, the whole of them of so large a dimension, that two men can with difficulty girt them. They are of the Ionic order of architecture, and are placed on bases of the same stone, at such distances from each other that a coach and six might commodiously turn between them. They support a flat tower or roof, from which projects a cornice wrought with figures of matchless workmanship: these rise above the capitals with so nice an union, that the eye can not distinguish the place where they are joined. At the present time the greater part of this colonnade is destroyed, the western part alone remaining perfect and upright. This fabric has an elevation of five hundred feet, and is four hundred feet in length. In its exterior, and behind, it is flanked by two other towers similar to those of the first façade, the whole projecting from the wall, which within is provided with loop-holes, to keep off the enemy, in case of necessity, by the means of stones, fire, &c. It also surrounds the colonnade, more particularly in the part which looks toward the east. At the left flank rises a temple, which tradition says was the hall of audience of Solomon, in hight at least eighty feet, and long and large in proportion. Its stones are all sculptured with bass-reliefs, similar to those which ornament Trajan’s column at Rome, representing many triumphs and naval engagements. Several of these bass-reliefs have been defaced by the Saracens, who are the decided enemies of all sculptures. Without this grand hall is an avenue of the same size and breadth, where the traveler admires a large portal constructed with three stones only, attached to which, in the middle part, serving as an architrave, is seen, in a garland of laurel interwoven with flowers, a large eagle admirably sculptured in bass-relief. At the sides of the portal are placed two columns, in one of which, although formed of a single stone, is a winding staircase by which to ascend to the architrave: the passage is however very narrow. There is in the vicinity another temple, of an octangular shape, with a portico of superb architecture, and having three windows on the side opposite to the former.”

Three times Leander returned to visit this splendid vestige of antiquity; and on the last of these occasions, being well escorted, he proceeded to the distance of about a mile, to the foot of the mountains of Damascus, whence the stones employed in its construction were brought. He measured the stone which remained there, and which has already been noticed as having been intended for the fifth in the construction of the wall: it had been hewn out on all sides, was lying on the ground, and was simply attached to the rock at the lower part. Its length and dimensions were such that he could not conceive how it would have been possible to detach it, and still less with what machines to move, transport, and raise it to the hight at which other stones are placed, more especially as the sites, the roads, and the masses of rock are such, as to exceed in roughness and difficulty whatever the imagination can picture to itself. In the vicinity of the cave whence the stones were drawn is a very beautiful sepulcher supported by columns of porphyry, over which is a dome of the finest symmetry, and of great beauty.

RUINS OF BABYLON.

The ruins of Babylon are deeply interesting, not only on account of their great antiquity, but from the associations connected with them. They have been visited and described by Mr. Rich, resident for the East India company at Bagdad; and the result of his researches is given by the Rev. Mr. Maurice, author of “Indian Antiquities,” and assistant librarian to the British museum, in his elaborate work entitled “Observations connected with Astronomy and Ancient History, Sacred and Profane, on the Ruins of Babylon.”