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no more.

About the Augustan period the shape of the sarcophagus was changed, and the mummies were not wrapped in the human form, but of an equal thickness all down, and swathed in a coarsely painted cloth exhibiting portraits of the deceased.

The cost of these embalmments varied from £4 up to £250, according to the rank in life of the deceased, and the luxury of the coffin and ornaments. There are specimens still in existence which contain above 1000 yards of linen, varying in texture from good calico to superfine cambric. The majority, however, belong to the middle classes, and their cost is estimated at £60; but calculating them all at the cheapest-namely, £4-this would give an annual expense for manufacture of £666,000. For our own part, however, unless the lowest classes were mummified at the public cost, (which is very improbable,) we do not see how even £4 could have been paid for their funeral expenses; and as Mr. Gliddon remarks that only a single negro mummy has been found, although negroes were always very numerous in Egypt as domestic servants, there must, we think, have been a portion of the population allowed to moulder in the usual way. The whole of the revenue arising from this process belonged to the priests, "who were the physicians, apothecaries, mummy-makers, undertakers, scribes, and sextons, and who, besides, leased out the sepulchral excavations in which the bodies were to repose.' ." They held also the monopoly of the linen cloth used for wrapping the body, the flax for which was grown and manufactured by themselves. The mummies made, however, were so strictly the property of the purchasers, that a debtor was obliged to give up in pledge to his creditors the remains of his ancestors; and if he died insolvent, his next relations were held bound, both in honor and law, to redeem them.

The pyramids, it is now known, were sepulchres for containing the mummies of the Pharaohs. "As to the epoch of those of Memphis," says Mr. Gliddon," these were all built between the times of Noah and Abraham in the scale of Biblical chronology, and those of Menes, the first Pharaoh of Egypt, and the founder of the first dynasty at Memphis, and the thirteenth dynasty in collateral Egyptian hieroglyphical chronology. Thus all the Memphite pyramids existed and were ancient 2000 years before Christ. All the pyramids in lower Egypt are 4000 years old; and taking the pyramid of Moris, according to Lepsius' letters, built between 2151 and 2194 years before Christ, as the last of this series, the remainder will successively recede to above 5000 years ago."

and if the death took place during the year, this was immediately cased over, and thus a small pyramid formed. If the king lived a second year, another course of stone or brick was added, and so on another and another, till, as in the case of the Great Pyramid, the solid materials thus piled over the chamber in the rock would suffice for the construction of a city. "The pyramid continued to be increased every year until the death of the king in whose reign it was erected, fresh courses being added each year of his life. When the king died, the work of enlargement ceased, and the casing was put on the pyramid. This was done by filling up the angles of the masonry with smaller stones, and then placing oblong blocks one upon another, so as to form steps from the base to the apex; after which, beginning at the top, and working downwards, these stones were bevelled off at the corners, so as to form one uniform angle, and give a smooth surface to the pyramid, leaving a perfect triangle. Two conclusions will strike the observer; first, that a pyramid, being smooth from its base to its summit, was by its builders never meant to be reäscended; secondly, that the entrance was hermetically closed, never to be reopened; although its location, to judge by classical and Arabian traditions of hieroglyphics on the exterior, was probably indicated by a royal tablet, or stele, commemorative of the Pharaoh interred in each sepulchre. * The philosophi

cal deduction from all this is, that the size of the pyramid is in direct proportion to the length of the king's reign in which it was constructed, having been begun at his accession, and finished at his death.

Large pyramids indicate long reigns, and small pyramids short reigns. The sixty-nine pyramids, therefore, represent some seventy or eighty kingly generations, (two kings having been sometimes buried in the same pyramid,) the last of which race died before Abraham was born. Such is the law of pyramidal construction. Of its importance in chronology the reader can judge."

In the Great Pyramid there are several chambers; the Great Hall, the Kings' and Queens' Chamber, the Well, as it is called, &c.; and there are air-passages communicating from these with their external surface. The casing-stones were eight tons in weight, but were removed by the caliphs, so that the edifice can now be ascended as if by the steps of a stair. There is no danger either in the ascent or descent; although, in 1831, Mr. James Mayes, an English traveller, contrived to commit suicide by throwing himself from the summit.

The private tombs scattered around the regal pyramids are full of interest of the same kind; being covered with paintings of the manners, cusWhen a king commenced his reign, a small toms, genealogies, &c., of the ancient Egyptians isolated hill of rock was fixed upon for his tomb, to such an extent, that the antiquary Lepsius and a chamber excavated in it, with a passage promises to write the court journal of the fourth communicating with the surface. Around and Memphitic dynasty, which flourished five thousand over this a course of masonry was built in a four-years ago! "The manufacture of glass," Mr. sided figure, converging at the top, in general of Gliddon tells us, was known in Egypt 2000 limestone, but in four instances of sun-dried brick; years previously to its reported discovery by the


London town has outgrown the original resources of the spot, and is now dangerously and disgracefully ill-watered. The supply is both inadequate in quantity and bad in quality; the badness being of various degrees, from the insidiously unwholesome to the loathsome and fatal-in other words, from slow to rapid poisoning. In order to put this matter in the clearest light, let us briefly consult the natural history of our subject.

Water in its simplest state is a combination of oxygen and hydrogen in definite proportions. When freshly obtained by the contrivances of the chemist, it is insipid and unfit for alimentary purposes; but on exposure to the air, it quickly imbibes an additional portion of oxygen, which it holds in solution, thereby acquiring a more grateful flavor, and a character in the highest degree congenial to the animal economy. In this second state, then, it constitutes the natural standard of pure potable water; every decline from which is indicated by a proportionate increase in specific

Phoenicians; and the decimal system of numera- | perfect harmony with the organic laws of the unition, units, tens, hundreds, thousands, and upwards, verse, which can never be violated with impunity, was current in the days of the Pyramids, or 4000 is the ideal goal of advancing civilization. years before the Arabs of Mohammed's era. In the tomb of Eimei, architect of the pyramid of Shoopho, of the fourth dynasty, is an inventory of his wealth. There are, amongst other details, "835 oxen, 220 cows, with their calves, 2234 goats, 760 asses, and 974 rams." The numerals are hieroglyphical ciphers; and the same decimal system is found in the quarriers' marks on all the pyramids. Indeed, it became evident that perhaps, with the exception of steamboats, electrotypes, Daguerreotypes, the magnetic telegraph, chloroform, printing-presses, and cotton gunpowder, the arts and sciences were much the same at that early period in the Valley of the Nile as at this time in our own country. The drawings of the trades, as found pictured on the walls in the tombs, show the practical sort of people the Egyptians were. Corroborations of the last remark are to be found in the various paintings now extant of" carpenters at work, boat-building, musicians, poulterers, veterinary surgeons, wine-pressing, brick-making, weaving, ploughing, transport- gravity, evidencing the presence of extraneous ing of columns," &c. All these are illustrated by, and serve as illustrations of, that sacred language which, at the end of fifty ages, speaks to us from the tombs almost as intelligibly as it did to the priests at a time which could only be known to the Jewish patriarchs as an old-world tradition. Having now run through these lectures-although not in a cursory manner, for one must pick his steps while traversing such a mass of erudition-we have only to recommend the volume to the studious reader, as one from which he will receive as much general information on Egyptiological science as he could obtain by the perusal of a variety of more bulky, though not more learned, productions.

From the Spectator.


matter. Now as water possesses great solvent powers, it readily becomes impregnated with foreign ingredients. The pure element, distilled in the great laboratory of nature, and stored up in the clouds and vapors of the higher regions of the air, descending thence in the form of rain, carries down with it the gases and the finer particles of solid bodies suspended in the atmosphere. The fallen rain, flowing along the surface of the earth and sinking through its interstices, parts with some of these adventitious matters, to enrich the soil and speed the work of vegetation; in exchange for them it again takes up others, such as animal and vegetable remains, and earthy, alkaline, and metallic salts. Thus freighted, and often depositing and renewing its freight, it pursues its subterraneous course, until it again finds vent at some point where the stratum over which it trickles crops out at the earth's surface. The lower that stratum, the purer in general is the water issuing from the spring. The water of Artesian wells, being derived from a great depth below the surface, is preeminent for purity and softness.

LONDON pines and sickens for want of water! The paragon of modern cities, the unrivalled metropolis of the mightiest nation of the earth, is grovelling like a Calmuck camp in squalor, stench, and unwholesomeness, for want of one of the first The hardness of water is owing to the presence necessaries of life. The fact illustrates a curious of earthy and alkaline salts. A great portion of tendency in civilization to run in some respects a the water used in London labors under this grave cyclical course. Allured by certain natural ad- defect. The consequences are, great waste and vantages of site, and chiefly by the abundance of enhanced cost in washing and culinary processes, water for domestic use and for the purposes of and a long catalogue of bodily sufferings entailed manufacture and transit, men congregate together on the drinkers of the impure beverage. To illusand lay the foundation of great cities. In the lapse trate by contrast the pernicious effects of repeated of ages, as their numbers and their activity in- calcareous drenches, we need only point to the recrease, their own animal exuviæ, and the refuse storative qualities of the Malvern waters. Long matter of the arts which they exercise, become before Priessnitz and hydropathy were heard of, sources of grievous discomfort, vitiating the soil, those celebrated springs were resorted to for their the water, and the air. A wise economy will curative powers, especially in diseases of the dithen seek to arrest this deteriorating process, and gestive organs, the kidneys, &c., such as the to recover and preserve for the dwellers in the hard water of London tends to produce. Now city the primitive bounties of nature. To be in the Malvern waters are not of the mineral class;

same identical dose of agaric wine has been known to make five Tartar tipplers happy one after the other. It is not speculating too minutely to con

sordes or of morbid poison may pass unaltered through the bodies of several human beings successively.

they cure, not by means of any medicinal ingredients contained in them, but simply by virtue of their own exceeding purity. Their specific gravity is only 1.002, showing them to be all but de-jecture that in London the same particles of animal void of foreign admixture. There lies beneath London, quite accessible and ready to overflow for our use, an inexhaustible lake of water as pure as that of Malvern; but we are forbidden to touch it. The sick Londoner, craving for nature's pure cordial draught, must gulp down his lime-drugged potion, in reverence for the monopoly of the water companies.

But there are worse impurities in our daily drink than those of which we have yet spoken. We are paying the companies collectively 340,000l. per annum for the privilege of cooking our food, sweetening our persons, and washing down our meals, with a more or less concentrated solution of native guano. Excepting the parts of London supplied by the New River, the metropolis derives its supply of water chiefly from the Thames, just as in the reign of Henry the Third, when the limpid river still pursued "its silver winding way," where now we see a great fetid ditch, seething with the putrescent sordes of more than two millions of human beings, and incessantly churned by the paddles of steamers rushing about in every direction to make the infusion more slab and homogeneous. The tyranny of the water companies entails on this metropolis some of the horrors of a state of siege, literally compelling its inhabitants to quaff

The stale of horses, and the gilded pool
That beasts would cough at;

with other nameless abominations, the outpourings
of the common sewers. There are public pumps
in London, but, for the sake of consistency we
suppose, many of these are so situated as to re-
ceive the drainings of graveyards. Elsewhere,
wells and cisterns have been constructed in such
a manner as to have their contents mingled with
the overflowings of the adjacent cesspools. The
frightful mortality by cholera in Albion Terrace,
Wandsworth, has been distinctly traced to that
very cause. It is also worthy of especial note,
that the localities which have been most desolated
by cholera, are those which are supplied by the
companies that procure their water from the
Thames below Vauxhall Bridge.

In Goldsmith's Citizen of the World there is an account of certain Tartar tipplings, that bear no remote analogy to our London ways of using water. From a choice species of mushroom or agaric the Tartars extract a wine too costly to be within the means of any but the rich; the poorer sort, being forced to content themselves with the generous juice at second-hand, assemble round the place where the revels are held; and we pray our readers to surmise the sort of transformation it is made to undergo before it reaches their lips. Dr. Pereira, if we remember rightly, states, in his commentaries on the Materia Medica, that the

The grievances we have here set forth are no new ones. They have been for many years the subject of loud and general remonstrance. Flesh and blood can endure them no longer. There is nothing to hinder their prompt and entire removal, except the resistance of the water companies on the one hand, and on the other the absence of a power able and willing to enforce the reasonable desire of the community. To do that is the proper office of the government. If par hazard we possess a government which is not altogether a sham, it will seriously take up this subject at the commencement of next session; only a government can bring together the needful information on the legal hindrances that obstruct the supply of sweet and wholesome water for London and the other towns-only a government has power to grapple with those obstructions by a sweeping vindication of public health against private monopoly and local corruption.

What hast thou to do with Peace?

2 Kings, ix. 18.
CHILDHOOD! thy wild and frolic hour,
Long as the butterfly's bright race,
Or the gum-cystus' dazzling flower,

As short-lived, and as full of grace;
Does it the calmer good contain?

Will it from future care release?
Glad art thou-joyous, free from pain-
But, what hast thou to do with peace?

Maiden of throbbing heart-whose breast
Hardly for what 't is yearning knows,
Yet, like the polyp, without rest,

Its trembling filaments out-throws,
Oft to be wounded-shrinking oft,
Wearied, but not from search will cease-
Tears check with pain thy rapture soft-
And what hast thou to do with peace?

Manhood, thine eye is still elate,

The weapons in thy hands are strong;
Thought sits within thy brow sedate,

Success hath sped thee; thou hast fame-
And busy cares thy bosom throng.

Bays that might serve victorious Greece;
Tumultuous joys thou hast, and name-
But what hast thou to do with peace?

Thou sire, of venerable age,

With sons to take thy heritage,
White-haired; for counsel rightly sought;

And well-filled chests, for which thou 'st wrought;
Long have been here thy wanderings,

Thy grandchildren sit on thy knees;
Thou 'rt troubled about many things—
And what hast thou to do with peace?


expecting him. Years had not conquered Casimir's dislike to the surly peasant who had been YEARS glided on, each summer regularly bring- the butt of his childish persecution; when, thereing the family to Stanoiki, and winter as regularly fore, divers means of attracting the creatures to transporting them to Lemberg. During this time the surface had been resorted to in vain, he exbut little perceptible change took place in the sev-claimed: eral personages of this drama, with the exception

"Doubtless they are gone into the hollows of the rocks-it is the way with these animals when scared."

"A precious goose-chase we have had of it," said one of the young men, so incensing Casimir that, turning to Pavel with rage, he cried :

"If I find that you have deceived me, by all that is sacred, I'll break every bone in your body!"

"That dog has again been lying! How dare of Casimir, who was now verging upon nineteen, you, sirrah, look at me thus? By my honor, I and looking and demeaning himself like a town- think the fellow has a mind to be insolent! bred cavalier. He had, latterly, attended lectures Where are the beavers ?-can none of you say?" at the Lemberg university; but a recent duel The peasants looked stolidly at Pavel, who at between a Polish and a German nobleman, occa-length answered, in a voice tremulous with supsioned by difference of opinion, political and pressed emotion: national, which had ended fatally to the former, had induced many cautious mothers, and among them Casimir's, to recall their sons until the first distemperate heat produced by this affair should have subsided. Casimir had gained but little by his short and irregular attendance at college. The only thing he deigned to borrow of the Germans was their smoking propensity; and he was, indeed, seldom now seen without a pipe in his mouth. He was at this time a fair, aristocratic Pavel, with expanding nostrils, flashing eyes, youth, seeming by rapid growth to have somewhat and heaving chest, folded his arms, threw back undermined his strength, with that mingled air of his head, and met sternly the eye of his young indolence and grace which constitute what is com- lord. Casimir, excited beyond the pitch of endurmonly called an elegant person; but there was ance by this tacit though manifest defiance, grasped about his mouth, already ornamented with an his riding-whip nervously; and the scene might incipient moustache, and in his light gray eyes, a have had a tragic conclusion, had it not been interfeline expression that marred the effect of a coun-rupted by the general cry-"A beaver, a beaver!” tenance which, despite its effeminacy, might have No sooner was Casimir's back turned, than been termed handsome. Pavel walked off, making the best of his way to the village. Casimir's eye, however, was upon him. That he did not call him back was due to no feeling of kindness or mistrust. For the former he was too much spoiled- for the latter too bold; but he remembered his father's interdiction about this serf, and felt that it would not do to carry things too far; so he let him go, mentally resolving that when he should be lord of the manor, such a face as that should not be seen within its boundaries. And Pavel, as he wended his way home, muttered to himself: "When that young lord comes to the estate, he must either let me depart, or there will be war between us!"

The spring of the year 1845 was the first time that Casimir had visited the estate since his residence at the university. He came accompanied by a few of his friends who had proposed to assist him in whiling away the tedium of a residence in the country; and tedious enough it proved, no ripple stirring the monotonous, calm surface of the life at the chateau. Still, one or two incidents occurred during this summer which, however trifling and insignificant to all appearance, assume some importance from their connection with after



War between the vassal and the lord! a history of malignant, merciless hatred on the one hand-ceaseless persecution, from which there is no escape but in death; or, on the other, a surprise in a lone place, a fierce struggle, and an unknown grave!

At a considerable distance from the chateau, touching the confines of the domain, there was a dark, desolate-looking pool, surrounded by a mass of rocks so embedded in the sand as to be little discernible from afar. In this pool Pavel, in his solitary roamings, had traced a colony of beavers, abundant enough in some parts of Gallicia, though rare in others. His discovery soon became the But Pavel was not the only one on the estate talk of the village, where it reached the ears of whom Casimir loved to annoy. Instigated by his Duski, who lost no time in communicating the mother's thoughtless remarks, he took it into his intelligence at the chateau. Casimir immediately head that his father did not overlook the peasants determined to visit the spot; and, conceiving him- with sufficient care, and began to inquire into the self to be of an age when no paternal commands most minute details connected with them, in a way in trifles should interfere with his will and pleas- that gave rise to a saying among the serfs, that he ure, ordered Pavel to wait for him at the pool, to should have been the steward's son instead of the point out the exact place where the beavers might lord's, showing such an apt disposition for his line be seen. of business. His mother, with her usual blindHe came, with his young friends, full of eagerness, called this narrow intermeddling an evincing ness for the sport, riding at a gallop to the spot of an early turn for affairs, whilst his father rewhere Pavel and a few more villagers stood proved it as often as it came under his cognizance.

The count loved his son, but he did not encourage | deed-" it 's well; but he who plants another tree those illusions about him which his mother so on this estate is not worthy to call himself a Pole. largely indulged. He saw what was true-that The only relaxation of the slave is the brandy he was not deficient in talent, though it was ren-bottle. Be it so; but remember this day, and dered of little avail by mismanagement. He now never toil for those who, at best, reap where they put his trust in that great reformer, the world, and have not sown, and destroy where they do not hoped that the lessons of life would correct the choose to reap.' evils of a bad education.

In the shooting season, neither Casimir nor his friends spared the property of the peasants; and again Pavel was destined to undergo an interview with the young man, chance seeming to be as malicious in this respect as Casimir's will had been formerly. Applying his semi-education to the doing of everything that came in his way with more reflection and method than his companions, Pavel had turned a piece of waste-land to account, by converting it into a nursery for fruit-trees-a rare effort in Gallicia, where the cultivation of fruit was long neglected, not so much owing to the climate, hard and rough though it be, as to the claims of the lord of the soil upon the produce-a system which paralyzes all industry, and destroys alike hope and energy. Pavel's care and patience had been duly rewarded, and a young orchard was now shooting forth, the first that had arisen on the Stanoiki estate.

One morning, as he was musing over the increasing vigor of his young trees, the gamekeepers, accompanied by twenty or thirty peasants, came in sight, and advanced directly towards him. The men pressed into the service of the battue were all of Pavel's village, and had watched, with a sort of interest, the growth of his splings; when, therefore, they were ordered, in an authoritative manner, to cut down the plantation, they hesitated, eying Pavel as if they expected some hint from him in what manner to act. The head gamekeeper, either seeing something dangerous lurking in Pavel's dark eye, or doubting, in this case, ready compliance with his orders on the part of the boors, beat a precipitate retreat, but soon reäppeared, accompanied by Casimir himself.

"Again insolent!" said the young count, approaching Pavel-" what means this? Here is a thicket we must have down, and you dare to oppose the gamekeeper in his duty?"

Pavel smiled bitterly.

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But that summer the count himself caused much discontent on the estate. Many of the peasants who had attempted to slur over part of their dues, were reminded of them in no gentle manner. Arrears in kind were called in with severe exactitude-pecuniary arrears that had been overlooked for many terms were now rigorously claimed ; and men who thought by producing musty records to prove that their tenure obliged them but to so many days' work gratis, and to supply but a limited number of teams, were made to feel the nullity of these documents, and forced to accept what terms the count or his steward chose to dictate. But the chief subject of complaint was at harvesttime. On most of the Gallician estates, at this season of the year, the peasants were entirely at their masters' disposal; and whatever attention they might have to bestow upon their own land— be the nature of the work never so pressing-the risk to their own harvest what it might-they must toil incessantly until their masters' grain was gathered in. Every year, at this period, great discontent prevailed throughout the country; and in the autumn of 1845, the peasantry began to quarrel more seriously than heretofore with the exaction of these extra days of labor. The count's serfs, before following the example set them by those of the neighboring estates, determined to make an appeal to his generosity. They deputed envoys to him, selected from the oldest men on the property; but they were received with an explosion of rage most rare with their master, and sent home scared and frightened. What could not be claimed as a right, it was now determined to establish by precedent; but the count, who had foreseen this measure, threatened, if it were persisted in, to bring a regiment from Lemberg to settle the question.

As the autumn advanced, however, the severity of these exactions suddenly relaxed. These contrary movements of heightening and lowering

"Will you answer when you are spoken to, pressure being simultaneous throughout the several varlet ?"

"I am reply.

circles of Gallicia, it was obvious that both de

no varlet of yours," was the bold pended on more than the mere caprice of the land

Pavel's friends looked at him approvingly. Not so the young count-could a look have killed, that moment had been Pavel's last. With a motion of his hand, he directed the peasants to proceed to the work of demolition, who now hastened to obey, managing, in so doing, to form an effectual screen between Pavel and his tormentor, from behind which the former retired, unobserved, from the spot; but his little plantation was mercilessly laid bare.

lords. Changes, too, in the family arrangements at the chateau were not a little puzzling. There appeared to be no thought of removing to Lemberg for the winter; and, par extraordinaire, the countess seemed perfectly resigned to the notion of facing the snows at Stanoiki. No ennui seemed now to scare away the guests, for the mansion was constantly full; and many were the surmises of the servants, the peasants, and even the steward himself, upon the sudden influx of visitors of all kinds and ranks. So numerous, "It's well," he said, when they next met, to indeed, were they, that the castle being all insufthose who had been compelled to accomplish the [ficient to contain them, many flocked to the village

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