learning" and "critical knowledge" of Mr. Wilson (whom he has the temerity to accuse, in his "Observations," of "a tone of dictation and confidence") placed in contrast with them; but we know of only one remedy, that of making a juster estimate of his own capabilities.

The outery Mr. Taylor raises about the abstract we made of the anecdote of "the Mogul's Slipper," in which we compressed his wordy narrative of nearly four quarto pages into about thirty lines, is quite characteristic of him. The slightest deviation from the "word for word" system of rendering is a heinous offence in the eyes of a mere translator. The "thought" which arose on reading this abstract, which we did not say was his, "Are these my words?" would have been better timed when he used Mr. Wheatley's translation without acknowledgment.

Calcutta.

TWILIGHT.

Is the blue briny water of Araby's ocean
The tropical sun is now bathing his rays,
While light breezes rustle the leaves into motion,
Diffusing fresh vigour laid low by his blaze.
The mild streaming moon-beams are now all my taper,
A leaf of banana, spread smooth, is my paper,
And a clear starry welkin, divested of vapour,
My canopy forms, as I pen you these lays.

The Hindu his tom-tom is joyously sounding;

The dark-jewelled dames shout their death-wail of woe;
The Moslem his saint's tomb with lamps is surrounding,
While large flying vampires exult in the glow;
The white men their requiem bugles are blowing,
The air with gay night-flies in spirals is glowing,
While low in the west the electric is flowing,

And pealing is thunder, far distant and low.

'Neath a high clayey bank, on the broad muddy Gunga,
Where bats, owls, and snakes o'er the channel preside,
All lonely I sit, in my swift skimming dunga,

And list to the flood boiling by in its pride,
To the snort of the crocodile deeply inhaling,
The growl of the wolf, and the jackall regaling,
The scream of the scared fowl aloft loudly railing,
The ferry-man's call ere his last trip is plied.
As I gaze on each cluster of lights that bespangle
The concave of heav'n with their radiance divine,
Seven far to the northward my fancies entangle,
The Ursa, that points to the pole-star divine:
The first that attracted my boyish attention,
The last trait of home that remains in extension,
And still, though a pilgrim, its wonted ascension
To me gives more joy than all others that shine.
For linked to its orbs are the scenes of my childhood;
In fancy I trace them each cool shady eve;
In canoe on the Gunga, or tent in the wild wood,
A relic of home in its horns I perceive;
And fondly I think, on its beams while I'm poring,
The eye of my Nora is it too adoring,

That she fondly looks for my welcome restoring

To home, to her arms, ne'er again them to leave.

Asiat.Jour.N.S. VOL.26.No.101

OOMANOONDA.

F

A VOYAGE UP THE RED SEA.

NO. I.

THE wind blew fresh and fair, and our old crazy craft bowled along at the rate of seven knots. The crew were about; some at prayers, others sipping coffee. The solemn and measured praise to Allah was heard above all; and a pause was filled up with the gurgling of the water-pipe. The night was beautiful, and the stars lit up the blue canopy above us;* the dark hills casting a sombre shade on the water.

As we neared the bab, or gate, the wind failed us, and as the current was adverse and strong, we had a hard struggle: but light zephyrs off the land occasionally filled our sail, and we made good our entrance.

The entrance to the Red Sea is known under the general appellation of Bab al Mandeb; it is formed by the coasts of Arabia and Africa, which bind this arm of the ocean along its whole length with steep and arid hills, till they arrive at this point, where they appear to meet-on the Arabian side, by the extreme southern promontory of that peninsula; and opposite, by a projection or cape of the African continent, leaving a space between of about twenty miles, which is occupied by several islands, the principal of which is Perim and the group called the Brothers. The whole of these islands, and the hills of the adjacent continents, bear the marks of volcanic action-barren, of a cinder-like appearance, and destitute of water. Some of our crew, who are natives of these parts, assert that there are many burning mountains in Hadramut, the craters of which are now open. On the peaks of the hills which towered above us on our right-hand, the officers of the Indian navy discovered large quantities of sulphur and masses of magnet-stone: they also found the compass very much disturbed in their vicinity.

The nearest hill the natives call Fermise, or 'Lanthorn'; and tradition assigns as the cause that it was once burning, and served as an admirable beacon to vessels approaching the sea.

It fell calm, and the current drifted us about in the narrowest part of the strait, which is hardly half a mile wide. The moon rose, and we were in some degree relieved from our anxiety, as it enabled us to judge our distance from the shore, and ascertain for certainty if we were taking the right course, which is hereabouts rather difficult to discover in the dark. Our jolly-boat was lowered, and we towed the vessel off the land, which we had approached so near, that should any wind have blown, it would have been kept from catching our sail by the rocks which frowned above us.

The ancient mariners, by the names they have given to the different headlands and islands here and in the neighbourhood, have left us an everlasting memorial of the dangers attending the eastern maritime commerce in those times. The entrance of the sea is called the Gate of Sorrow, or Weeping; the cape itself, Affliction; the extreme east point of Africa, which must have been the last land they lost sight of, the Cape of Burial; and after we enter the sea, where the small vessels of those times could run in-shore and sail up between the reefs, Zigger, or Prayer. Here we may suppose they performed worship to their gods, or thanksgiving for a safe delivery from the dangers of the voyage; or, if on the outset, offered up a propitiation for success, before they launched into the seeming dangers. The African coast is called Bur- Agim, or the Strange Land. With energy they pointed out their own shore as “Araby.”

* The beautiful etherial blue cast of the sky at night in these regions is a subject of admiration to all who have traversed them.

The sea was a perfect calm. The current had become favourable, and it carried us rapidly through. The dangers of the voyage were now considered over ; our crew assembled in the poop, and, in a musical chaunt, they all together pronounced a "salam," which, by dwelling on the last syllable, and gradually lowering it till it died away, gave it a solemn and greeting sound, which was caught up and answered by the dark and empty caves. Prayers were now said; and although we caught the wind which backed our sail as we rounded the cape, not a soul offered to move till he had done offering up thanks to his maker. The solemn chaunt of their prayers, and the whole scene, led me to picture to myself the many heart-rending scenes of distress this cape-the Cape of Affliction-has witnessed.

As we enter the sea, we leave the shores of the province of Hadramut. Two days previous to entering the straits, we passed the port of Aden; and on nearing the shore, we had a distinct view of the low sandy strip that intervenes between the hills and the sea, on which we saw a few Bedouin tents. The hills of this part of Arabia Felix branch out from a great chain that runs from the south-west to its opposite quarter, and approach the sea, leaving a sandy arid strip of only a few miles in breadth, fashioned into crescents or bays, by the hills extending their rocky ridges to the water's edge, and forming a succession of abrupt headlands. This is the shore of the province of Hadramut. Between the sea and the mountains, not a more dried-up spot exists in nature; still, it is the happy Arabia of the poets; but such an unpoetical sea and coast I never before cast eyes on.

Hadramut, in remote times, was governed by a race of kings, known in history as the Hamyrite dynasty, so called after their founder; which kingdom, it appears, was originally peopled by the descendants of Hozoramavoth, first in descent from Jochton: this word, the Arabs assert, implies the "presence of death." The capital of this kingdom was Saba, afterwards called by the Greeks Mariaba. The riches and fame of this portion of the Arabian peninsula continued as long as they were the carriers for the Tyrian market. Ocelis, the great starting port of those times, was in the vicinity of this territory; but as soon as the Ptolemies enforced the plans of Alexander in regard to the channel of the Indian trade, the commerce, which the Hamyrites had enjoyed for upwards of a thousand years, fell from their hands. The Hamyrites had a separate language from the other tribes of Arabia, and a distinct written character, which is preserved to this day on various monuments in the country. The copies in Mr. Wellsted's possession are closely allied to the Phoenician and Ethiopic. When we recollect that the merchants of Teman and Dedan were constant visitors to the Tyrian emporium, they were the carriers to the people of Arabia, who most profited by the intercourse with Tyre; consequently, we may infer they received their written characters from that people. The tribes about here speak a distinct language from the Arabic; and the people, judging from those met with on the coast, are an athletic race of men, of a dark complexion, with features and hair the same as the other Arabians; but not so symmetrical in form, or so pleasing in feature, as the Arabs of the northern portion of the peninsula.

Hadramut, at present, is governed by a number of petty sheikhs, and the inhabitants are divided into tribes, which keeps them in constant feud and war. After we had cleared the straits, the breeze freshened to a gale, and we anchored in Mocha roads about seven the following morning, and repaired to the British agent's, where we met the officers of the Indian navy vessel of the

Gen. x. 26.

station. We spent the day with these gentlemen, and enjoyed the good things of Mocha: this place is famous for its bread, coffee, fish, and fruit; not forgetting butter and eggs.

The town of Mocha is built upon a low sandy shore-a barren, sterile strip, that intervenes between the mountains of Senna and the sea. The appearance of the place from the seaward is handsome, and from being built upon a slight eminence, is also imposing. A wall, constructed of bricks, with batteries, encircles the town; and although rather a miserable barrier in our ideas, still not a contemptible one against the invasion of the Bedouins. The number of houses, by a census lately taken, was three thousand-about two-thirds only of which are inhabited; many of them are of three stories, stuccoed, and highly figured on the outside with those pointed ornaments that enrich the moresque style. The front of each dwelling is ornamented with a wooden balcony, which is elaborately carved with arabesque fretwork and elegant tracery; it is in general occupied by a divan, and affords the lounger an opportunity of seeing what is going on in the streets, which otherwise would be impossible, without great inconvenience, from the situation of the other windows, and the extreme narrowness of the streets. The sacred portion of the house, al Hareem, may always be known by the bamboo jalousies, as they have been aptly termed, which hang before the windows, so that the poor unfortunate victim, thus caged, cannot even see out.

The style of architecture in Mocha is peculiar to this part of the country, and extends from Jidda in this sea to Bahrein in the Persian Gulf; and the true moresque and pointed arch is found in the modern, as well as the very oldest buildings. The houses are spacious, and built round a court. The door of entrance is large, which leads into a passage that enters the court; around are seats, which are matted. Here the master of the house sits, and receives his guests; if a merchant, here he makes his bargains.

Amongst orientals, there are no men about town-no loungers; every man has a profession, even the sultan. Here the master generally dines, never eating with his women, which custom appears a very old and general one in the East.

The streets of Mocha are exceedingly dirty, like those in all eastern towns; here they appear never to have been swept, and from a long accumulation of dirt, have acquired a considerable inequality of height. The roofs of the houses are flat, and serve as sleeping apartments in the sultry season. All the water-spouts lead into the streets, which are not more than four yards wide; so when it rains, or any water is spilt above, those walking beneath are sure of getting it upon their heads. A merchant here rises in the morning and goes to his shop (perhaps the whole way leads through a covered bazar), where he sits till the evening, never stirring from his lounge, excepting for the mid-day prayers; and the places of worship are so numerous, that he has seldom far to go. Here no person ever thinks of walking for either exercise or amusement. The acme of delight of all easterns is to go beyond the gates of their city, to a garden or a fountain, and there enjoy his pipe and coffee.

The illusion of Mocha being a fine city, which the view we had of it from the sea certainly impressed us with, vanished, as we picked our steps through its deserted streets, and found half the houses in ruins.

The streets of an eastern city are quite deserted; all business is done in the bazars—there all congregate; occasionally, a man is seen hurrying to his home, or the young women who carry water from the wells to the houses.

The coffee houses are the general lounges. Here they are large open sheds,

furnished with small stools for the visitors to sit upon. In other parts of Asia they are well built, and furnished with mats and benches, but the Arabs are not so luxurious in these matters as the Turks. On entering a café, it is customary to say, "Peace be with you !" which is responded to by those you seat yourself nearest. Coffee is then served to you in a small china cup, shapen like the half of an egg-shell, which fits into a brass saucer of a similar shape; the latter is a very necessary protection to the fingers, as the cup or saucer are without handle, and the beverage is sipped scalding hot. If you wish a nargeila, which is the water-pipe, a boy is always ready for that purpose : you give him tobacco from your own bag, and he prepares the pipe. The whole charge for a coffee and pipe is one comassie, the hundredth part of a shilling. The inhabitants of Mocha are a sickly, sallow-looking race, and very many of them lame, from the effects of a sore which attacks them in the legs, and in some cases destroys their extremities. They are much addicted to smoking a preparation of hemp, which is very similar in its effects to opium.

The merchants of Mocha are principally Indians from Surat, and Banyans from Cutch Mandivie; to each of these ports the trade is very considerable. Most of them are English subjects, and, consequently, trade free and independent of the many exactions levied on other merchants by the Turkish governor. There are also large numbers of resident Semanlies and Habeshies. There Africans are forbidden to reside in the town; their village, without the walls, is composed of reed huts, constructed in the shape of bee-hives. The merchants of each of these nations carry on their respective trade with the people of the town, where there is a ready market for their goods, which are again purchased by the Arabs, and merchants of the interior, with the dollars they receive in return for the coffee.

Amongst the assemblage of beings generally found in an oriental city, Jews are the most conspicuous, both from their features, and the finger of scorn that is pointed at them. Here, however, I could find but two families, who were living without the town, in a small suburb, called Hara al Yude. On inquiry, I found there was formerly a very considerable colony of them settled here, but repeated persecution has dispersed "the scattered." We walked out to see these two families, and they were quite delighted at our taking so much trouble to inquire after them. The wife of one of them said she recollected Lord Valentia. Her daughter, a black-eyed Rachael of seventeen, served us with coffee and arrack, while her old father told us a rambling story about their persecutions, plentifully shedding tears, and repeating from the Psalms. I made him dry his eyes, and show us their synagogue-a little building, about twenty feet square. They had one edition of the law, written on vellum. The rabbi would not part with this, although I offered him double its value, and another edition I had obtained from a rabbi who came across from Bombay with us. He was an old patriarchal-looking man: his beard was as white as snow, but his eye was yet undimmed, which showed that care, more than time, had blanched it. I told him I was going to Jerusalem: he embraced me. These people were so poor, that we could not refrain from making them a small present. The poor rabbi felt that he could make no return, so I begged of him to point out any passage in the Psalms that would remind me of him and his thankfulness, which was more than repayment to us. He wrote this passage in my note-book :

"Woe is me that I sojourn in Mesech, and that I dwell in the tents of Kedar."

The rabbi mentioned to us, that there were many families of Jews settled