here and there patched with tufts of coarse grass. Such is the prospect as far as the eye could reach, the datetrees even ceasing after leaving Mohummerah three or four miles, and no sign of cultivation or human abode appears to give animation to the dreary wilderness, seldom trodden by the foot of man. Game, however, of many kinds abounds, and immense flocks of duck and teal are always on the river. The lion, too, is said to be not unfrequently found in the jungle upon the banks."

Captain Rennie went up the river to Ahwaz, where there is a barrier of rocks, the only impediment in the navigation of the river for a hundred miles. Here the remains of an ancient bridge, which is said to have spanned the river in the time of Alexander the Great, are still to be seen. The party actually saw the Persian army there; but the latter retired at their approach, and, after destroying some magazines of powder and provisions, Captain Rennie returned to Mohummerah on the 4th March. The same day Sir James Outram received a despatch, informing him that peace had been concluded at Paris, and the Persian war was at an end. Sir James immediately commenced operations for evacuating Mohummerah, which was finally quitted in the beginning of May. The place is very unhealthy during summer, and we had no object in retaining a garrison there. The General himself proceeded up the Tigris to Bagdad to confer with Mr Murray, the British ambassador to Persia, who was to return to that court, and receive an apology for some insults offered to him before the interruption of diplomatic intercourse between Great Britain and Persia. A very curious incident occurred during the voyage of the Planet, a small river steamer which followed the one conveying Sir James. There were some horses on board belonging to Major Kemball, the consul-general at Bagdad, one of which got loose and leaped overboard just at dawn.

The steamer was then about halfway to Bagdad, and getting under weigh after anchoring as usual for the night. The horse was not missed for half an hour, but was then descried ashore in what seemed very unpleasant proximity to a splendid lion. The lion circled round and round him, always closing in. The horse remained motionless, beyond turning his head sufficiently to watch the lion's movements. Suddenly the latter gave a tremendous bound, but the horse was too quick for him, and escaped with a slight scratch; but instead of galloping away, he only went a hundred yards, and again stood still. The lion commenced his former tactics with a similar result, only his bound was less vigorous this time. The horse did not even yet take completely to his heels: he seemed either tied by some strange fascination, or inclined to tantalise an enemy, from whom a few minutes' canter would have entirely freed him. Again the lion commenced his circles; but ere they were narrowed to springing distance a party had landed from the steamer, and the instant the horse descried them he came galloping down as fast as he could, while the lion stalked breakfastless away towards the jungle.

The voyage from Koma (where the Tigris and Euphrates join, and form the Shat-ul-Arab) to Bagdad is about thirty miles. Not one single house is passed on either bank during the whole of this journey. We doubt if there is any other part of the world-the Great Desert not excepted-where so great a distance could be traversed without seeing some permanent human habitation; yet this is not a desert, condemned by an unproductive soil, an absence of water, and a tropic sun, to hopeless sterility. It is a desert whose soil is rich and climate genial-a desert through which mighty rivers roll their fertilising treasures to the ocean. Perhaps when the West has been filled up, the overflowings of European population may turn to

wards the East, and quarry amid the ruins of Babylon for materials to build new cities in the Mesopotamian plains.

Bagdad is the capital of a Turkish pachalic, or district under the government of a pasha. The country nominally swayed by this functionary is enormous, comprising a great part of Arabia; but in reality he can scarcely make himself obeyed beyond the walls of Bagdad, and frequently trusts to the English consuls to transmit his despatches to Bussorah, the second town of the district; for messengers between the British officials are more civilly treated by the Arabs than those of the Turkish Government. Sir James Outram found Bagdad a more convenient place than Bushire at which to wind up his diplomatic functions, as the posts from England are a week sooner in arriving. He had nearly completed his business, which, as it only referred to the return of the embassy to Teheran, was of no great importance, when he received one morning a packet containing intelligence of fearful import. It was the first news of the Indian mutiny and massacre at Delhi. Sir James at once perceived that his experience and services might be required in a wider field than he was now engaged in, made his final arrangements regarding the treaty with Persia as rapidly as possible, and started with his Staff for Bushire the beginning of June. He there handed over the command of the forces in Persia to General Jacob, and proceeded to win_fresh honours and rewards in India, which we trust he may be long spared to enjoy.

General Jacob had no enemy to contend with in the field. His principal attention was directed to providing effective shelter for the troops against the burning sun, which strikes so fiercely on the Persian Gulf for four months of the year. By the energy of Colonels Hill and North, and the officers of the Bombay Engineers, this was so well accomplished that the mor

no

tality among the troops was greater than if they had been in a temperate climate. The occupation of Bushire lasted till October, when it was made over to the Persians. A single native infantry regiment remained at the small island of Karrack till the beginning of 1858.

So ended the Persian war of 1856-57. Like the little child in

Southey's "famous victory," our readers may ask, "And what good came of it at last?" And we cannot tell, any more than the old man could, except that it certainly was not a famous" victory. It is not much to boast of, that, by an expenditure of two or three millions sterling, we equipped a force sufficient to harass the shores of a barbarous empire, which had not a single war-galley. We made the Persians give up Herat; but what benefit either her Majesty's Indian or English empire received we cannot comprehend. What little interest we have in Persia should be friendly, and make it an object to strengthen her; but by depriving her of Herat, we of course weakened her, and alienated her affections. Formerly English officers used to drill the Persian battalions; but lately a whole staff of Frenchmen have been summoned to Teheran. By making Herat independent we have added one more to the turbu lent principalities of Central Asia, and therefore made one more chance of a disturbance. This would matter little to the English public or Indian ryot (who, as he has to pay the war charges, is a principal party interested), were it not for the unfortunate inclination our statesmen evince to meddle in these matters, which concern them not.

The British Embassy returned to Teheran in July, and a mission under Lieut.-Colonel Taylor was despatched to Herat to see the former dynasty re-established, and the Persian occupation properly terminated. This object was successfully accomplished, and we trust these are the last Englishmen who will visit that inland princedom in

Ir was on a mellow evening towards the close of last September that I entered Antwerp for the second time, after the lapse of many years. There is always a feeling of sadness attendant upon revisiting a place which has been the scene of much past enjoyment, and I was in no humour for jingling into the venerable city with half-a-dozen other passengers in a railway omnibus. I preferred strolling quietly over the old draw-bridges which span the ditches of those memorable fortifications, whose green banks were reflected with marvellous precision in their sluggish waters. There was some fête in the outskirts of the town, to which merry groups of gaily-dressed women and children were hastening. The old familiar carillon rung gaily out from the cathedral, the network of whose pinnacles stood, bathed in light, against the evening sky. I turned to the right out of the Place du Mier, crossed the site of the ruined Bourse, and soon found myself on the Place Verte (which autumn was already beginning to strew with "lyart leaves)," immediately opposite the cathedral. It may seem paradoxical, yet I believe it is true, that one charm of the most glorious monuments of Gothic art consists in their incompleteness. That truncated tower, patched with rude brickwork amidst its rich and gorgeous ornament, appeals more powerfully to our sympathies than its finished and perfect neighbour. It tells of aspirations unfulfilled, of the schemes of ambition crumbling into dust, of the struggle, the defeat, and the disappointment which are incident to humanity. But it is not my intention to moralise; I seek only to call up pleasant memories of the past in my own mind, and to awaken similar recollections in those who have shared like pleasures in

bygone years. The old cities of Belgium, with their historic associations, their gorgeous architecture, and their rich treasures of art, are enchanted ground. The wealth of Bruges has departed. Her streets are deserted, and her quays are desolate. But the gratitude of a crippled soldier has endowed her with riches that pass not away with the vicissitudes of fickle commerce, and the name of Memling survives, whilst those of her merchant princes are forgotten. Mechlin and Ghent are rich in priceless treasures; but queen over all is Antwerp. The carillon has again rung out. The shadow is deepening over the grave of Quentin Matsys, and there, close beside it, stands his most fitting monument that iron canopy over the well by the grand portail of the cathedral, which has been a crown of glory to him for four centuries. How simple the design! how exquisite the workmanship! Four slender columns, meeting in a Gothic arch of beautiful proportion, support the figure of a pigmy warrior, who hurls down his gage of defiance, alike against the tyranny of Philip and the cruelty of Alvathe insensate rage of the iconoclasts who profaned the fair temple of God, which he seems to guard, and the fouler bigotry which defaced His image in the fairer temple which He had himself created. Round the pillars, branches of holly, green and immortal through ages of misery and bloodshed, intertwine themselves in fantastic wreaths, graceful as that "pleached bower" in which Beatrice hid to listen to her cousin Hero; and their young and vigorous shoots point upwards, appealing to Heaven from the oppression of man. Such is the legend worked by the prophetic hand of Quentin Matsys, a quarter of a century before the Emperor Charles V.