THE village of Adersbach, in Bohemia, situated in a valley, at the foot of the Giant Mountains, at the extreme confines of Silesia, is celebrated for the extraordinary groups of rock which rise in its environs, and extend, though with frequent interruptions, as far as Heuscheuer. The village borders on a most beautiful mead, watered by a small rivulet, which has its source in the midst of this rocky labyrinth. It is bounded on the south by large masses of rock which stand upright, contiguous to each other, and separated only by crevices of different widths. The greater number of them are one hundred feet high or upwards, and present forms which are singularly diversified. Some of them resemble works of art, as columns, walls, towers; some are bounded at the top by irregular curve lines, though their sides are as perpendicular as if they had been cut by a level. Others are bent in all directions, and their craggy summits, which hang in the air, threaten to descend every moment from their perilous abode. Some of them stand upon an immense base, and diminish as they rise, while others retain the same uniform dimensions from their bases to their summits. The bases of many of them are rounded by the action of the waters. The most remarkable of these rocks is that com

monly called the inverted sugar loaf, an appellation which sufficiently designates its singular form; and many isolated pillars which, though only a few feet in diameter at the base, elevate themselves amid their compeers, like a range of chimnies.

The moment we enter this labyrinth, we perceive on all sides groups of rock, which surprize us the more, because we are not in a situation to examine their height and extent. They encircle a beautiful mead, which may be considered the vestibule of the labyrinth.

An old honest forester generally serves as guide to those, whose curiosity leads them to explore this romantic labyrinth. They follow a path which is covered, in many places, with sand and rubbish formed from fragments of the rock. This

path, which is sometimes twenty feet wide, and sometimes not more than two, continues its course through innumerable windings between the perpendicular groups, and those masses which, like walls, enclose them on the right and left. A person is frequently obliged to crawl across the intervals, above which the rocks lean one against the other. The imagination of the old conductor has discovered in the most irregular masses resemblances to a palace, a church, a monastery, a pulpit, and an infinity of other objects. By this happy discovery, he hopes to render them more worthy the observation of the curious.

In this labyrinth, a person is obliged to go continually zigzag, one time he walks on the naked sand, at another on the moss and flowery turf: at one time he passes under low saplings, at another, he pursues the course of little rivulets, whose smooth and limpid waters follow the multiplied sinuosities of their course. These little streams are, in many places, provided with little bridges, or crossed by planks, for the convenience of those who explore this little mysterious world. After journeying about a league and a half, the traveller arrives at a place, extremely cool and agreeable, ornamented with saplings, hung with all sorts of mosses and plants, and closed up, on all sides, by tremendous rocks. The loud murmuring of a rivulet, which precipitates from a sort of basin, adds an inexpressible charm to the delights of this solitude. Underneath two lofty saplings, near a fountain as cool and transparent as imagination can conceive, stands a table, a bench, and some seats formed out of the rock. This place is frequently rendered the scene of festive happiness; and is frequently greeted by morning visitants who come to breakfast there. The repast is rendered delicious by the agreeable coolness of the place, which invigorates the animal faculties in a surprising manner.

From this resting-place there is an ascent by a narrow opening. The way is difficult, as it leads over heaps of sand, produced by the wrecks continually falling from the rocks,

and which are as friable as the ashes near the crater of a volcano, for at every step the traveller loses his feet, and sinks in the uncertain sand. But when he arrives at the top, he is more than recompensed by the sight of a cascade which precipitates from the summit of the rocks. The water falls, in its first descent, from a height of twenty feet, on a rock which impedes its perpendicular course, glides afterwards down a gentle descent, and completes its course by flinging itself into the lower basin. Near this stream the rocks have formed a dark and lofty vault, which presents a most majestic and terrible aspect.

It is a work of many days to tra verse all the different paths which cross this labyrinth, but next to the natural beauties which we have already described, is an ancient castle in ruins, situated in the midst of those masses of rock, and which, in all probability, served as an asylum for robbers. The guide, before he takes leave of his company, generally fires a pistol near the narrow opening by which it is entered. The sound, which is reverberated and encreased by the distant echoes, resembles the rumbling sound of thunder.

The learned are generally agreed as to the origin of the singular forms of these rocks. They imagine that the whole space which they cover was formerly a mountain of sand, and that a violent irruption of water, forcing a passage through the parts which were less compact, carried them away, and left, consequently, deep spaces between the solid masses. Such is the general opinion, but it is still doubtful whether the effect has proceeded from a sudden irruption, and whether it may not be more naturally traced to that slow but unremitting action of nature, which metamorphoses every thing after a certain lapse of time, though its immediate agency excites no attention.

The mountain known by the name of Heuscheuer, or Heuschaar, forming the southern extremity of this chain, is in Silesia, in the county of Glatz, about two miles and a half north-east of the town of this name, and a mile and

half to the north of the little town of Reinerz. In approaching the mountain in this direction, a most delightful meadow opens at its feet. It is difficult to reach it on this side, though considerable efforts were made in 1763, to facilitate the access. The traveller passes constantly over ledges of rocks which are detached and laid one over another, in all directions. Some of them are as large as houses, others equal churches in magnitude, nor can imagination give its creations a greater diversity of form than these rocks present. The greater part of the rocks are naked, but at a considerable height we meet a space which has been called the garden, and which contains trees and plants of various kinds. The rocks lift themselves all around, piled one over another. On the summit of Tafelstein, which is one of the most elevated, there is a most interesting and romantic prospect.

The rock on which it is fixed is cut perpendicular, like a wall at a depth of many hundred feet, and extends through various windings along the frontiers of Bohemia. A balustrade has been erected there, in consequence of its being honoured with a visit by the Prince of Prussia. This balustrade leads to the very extremity of the rock, where the spectator may contemplate with security the delightful prospect which opens before him, in all directions. Under his feet he beholds the lofty mountains extending south and west, and presenting summits which are sometimes rounded, and sometimes terminated in a point. The extensive prospect carries the eye of the spectator over the distant Braunau, Nachod, and a great number of other places in Bohemia, immortalized by the annals of the thirty, and of the seven years' war. The traveller has some difficulty however, in believing that he has Bohemia actually before him, for at this immense height the mountains, which separate the towns, castles, villages, and convents, disappear from the sight, so that he imagines he perceives nothing but a level and extensive plain.

of the journey, and was soon after strangled. Our traveller, obliged in his turn to make some confessions, was reassured by the insinuating manners of Mahmoud; who declared his zeal for the court of Persia, promised him help and protection, and even gave him an escort to accompany him to the place of his destination. "I hold thee," said he, "in my hands as a flower that I wish to keep from every breath of wind," and he added some perfidious words, whose covert meaning M. Jaubert could not understand. He refused the usual presents, and in order to procure a list of those persons whom our traveller intended to take with him, he carried his dissimulation so far, as to declare himself responsible for their safety. After all these demonstrations, human prudence could not foresee the Pacha's design.

Our traveller then departed under an escort of Kourdes, accompanied by the Tartar and two servants, but deprived of the assistance of his Armenian guide. The escort soon encreased; every moment fresh soldiers arrived. At length they cross the river which runs at the foot of Mount Ararat, and serves as a frontier to the Turkish possessions; they land, and while M. Jaubert was congratulating himself on his arrival in the Persian territory, he was suddenly surrounded by the Kourdes; one seized him in the middle of his body, another tied his arms, and a third disarmed him. They blind-folded him, turned his face towards the ground, and bound in the same manner his servants and the Tartar. They then carried them all into a solitary valley. Some hours after, M. Jaubert and his attendants were conducted to a lonely castle, where Mahmoud expected them---he pretended to have received from Constantinople an order to seize the person of the traveller, but protested that no attempt should be made on his life. He afterwards caused him to be thrown into a frightful cave, thirty feet under ground, with his three companions. This cavern, five feet wide, and sixteen long, had neither bed, table, nor chair; and upon the ground lay the dead body of a Bey, recently assassinated by order

of the Pacha.

In the morning a feeble light pe

netrated to the pit. The jailor raised the trap-door, and by help of a cord let down some ounces of bread and sour milk for the use of the prisoners such was their only support during a captivity of four months, The air of the prison was suffocating and infectious; and every day they expected would be their last. To all M. Jaubert's misfortunes were added the complaints and reproaches of his fellow-sufferers, and while his time passed heavily in this cruel anxiety, several of the Kourdes, who had taken them, came to him from the Pacha; who, not understanding the papers which he had found in the boxes, and being ignorant of the use of the arms, the spectacles, and other objects of curiosity, wished to have them explained. After having satisfied the enquiries of these wretches, M. Jaubert was sent back to his dungeon. A relation of the governor of the castle and the governor himself, who took pity on the prisoners, came sometimes to console them, and brought them news; but the Pacha had vowed their destruction. Three months expired in this manner, their clothes were all in rags, sleep had forsaken their eyes, and their situation was desperate. The Pacha, to avoid the reproaches of the Porte, or the vengeance of Persia, propagated false reports; but he still hesitated to make an end of his victims. Such was their horrible situation, when all at once the plague broke out at Bagazid. It had not appeared for twenty-four years. The Kourdes fell victims to it, and Mahmoud was attacked; in his delirium he condemned the strangers to death, but he himself died before his rage was satisfied.

His son Ahmed succeeded him, and also condemned the prisoners to death, but as he knew the governor was averse to it, he found a pretext to get rid of him: all was over with these unfortunate men. In his turn Ahmed was struck with the contagion. Terror and superstition induced him to revoke his sanguinary orders; two hours after which he died, and his uncle Ibrahim was acknowledged by the Kourdes.--Through the care of the governor's relation a letter from M. Jaubert, written to the court of Persia,

arrived at its destination. The governor of Erivan had sent for him to Bayazid, and the Chah of Persia menaced the town with the whole weight of his vengeance if they did not restore him to liberty. Ibrahim being frightened consults the Porte, and in the mean time takes the prisoners from their cavern, and confines them in a stable. The answer of the Port soon arrives from Constantinople, and the Pacha, for once faithful to the orders of the Grand Signior, sent M. Jaubert to the camp of Youssuf Pacha, who was then advancing towards Armenia at the head of an army. Thus was M. Jaubert miraculously saved from an apparently inevitable death.

The country inhabited by the Kourdes is one of the most interest ing the author passed through; it belongs, unequally, to the Turkish and Persian empires. Its extent is, in length, from Mount Ararat at thirty-nine degrees and a half north latitude, to the Kamerin chain of mountains at thirty-four degrees; and in width from Mount Ormiah to the Tigris. On the north is the ancient Colchis, on the east Media, and on the south Chaldea.

Kourdistan produces numerous herds of goats, sheep, and oxen, which constitute its chief wealth; and the management of bees is at tended to. The Kourdes are remarkable for their tall stature, fair complexion, and fine features. Their bodies are covered by large cloaks of black goat-skin, and their heads with hats made of red cloth, ornamented with acorns. These wandering people are good soldiers; from military exercises they go to pastoral occupations, and their leisure hours are beguiled with vocal music, for which they have a decided taste. It is true, that the singer they most admire is the one who sings loudest. In other respects, they are distinguished for the same virtues and vices as the Arabs of the desert; the custom of robbing, the love of independence, and great hospitality. In reading the account of the manners of these tribes, I fancied myself in the tent of a Bedouin. The Kourde cannot marry without the consent of his parents, whatever may be his rank or age: paternal authority is to him inviolable. The author adds,

(a reflection worthy of notice), that the traveller amongst the Kourdes ought to fear in proportion to the extent of their hospitality. "You are welcome," says the Kourde, whose hut the traveller passes; "the stranger is a present from God: let him want nothing: misfortune is sacred.” This very man, when traversing the mountains or deserts, is a ferocious robber, who strips his guest without mercy. The secret, which distinguishes the Kourde robber, is, to know how to flatter and deceive him whose wealth they covet.

On the 19th of February, 1806, Mr. Jaubert left Bagazid to go to the Turkish army, and he met with mountains at the defile of Kusseh-day that were covered with snow, whose brilliancy caused a painful opthalmia in all who did not wear a black veil, and neglected to stop up their nostrils. The hurricanes were also very dangerous. The ten thousand Greeks under Zenophon met with the same difficulties at this passage. Youssuf Pacha knew the author personally, having seen him in Egypt after his fatal loss at the battle of Héliopolis. He gave M. Jaubert a very distinguished reception, in consequence of having just received news of the great victory gained by the French at Austerlitz. He promised to send him safe to his destination, and, at the same time, cautioned him against the politeness and agreeable manners of the Persians, who, although so much thought of in Europe, are deficient in frankness and sincerity. The author, while he was waiting to hear from the Ottoman Porte, visited the Christian churches in this part of Armenia. At length his orders arrived, and he quitted the camp of the Osmanlis on the first of April, with an escort of twenty men; on the third day he reached Erz-Inghian, the ancient Satala, upon the Euphrates near one of the chains of Taurus. From thence he arrived five days after at Erze-Roum. Avoiding the road to Bagazid, he directed his course north, towards Khenes, Melez-ghird and Van, which gives its name to a little inland sea. A little way from the second of these towns is the high mountain, called Seiban-dagh, from whose summit the eye commands a circumference of fifty leagues: the Yezidis, a Kourde