always attract their special attention; and when they arrive at the
Rambla, a kind of Boulevard, where the best hotels are situated, usually
occupied by visitors arriving from other countries, their first impressions
seldom become erased from the spectator's mind, even when perambu-
poorer districts.
lating the narrow dirty streets in more ancient and

As might be expected, the Rambla forms the great centre of attraction to the idle, the occupied, and also the fashionable portion of the Barcelonese population. It extends from the sea-shore quite through the whole city; is about two-thirds of a mile in length, and otherwise very much resembles the Unter-den-Linden promenade at Berlin. Before the houses, which contain numerous shops, many cafés, coach-offices, and so forth, besides a paved footpath on each side, there is a broad carriage-way, while the centre portion-of some breadth-is solely reserved for foot passengers, having a double row of fine shady trees, with numerous seats, both fixed and movable, for those who prefer conversation with each other at their ease, to sauntering about on the smooth and cleanly swept gravel walk.

After visiting various Alamedas, Paseos, and other often celebrated public promenades in numerous Spanish cities, which are frequently lauded by strangers as by natives, the present critic unhesitatingly gives a decided preference to the Rambla of Barcelona. The Prado at Madrid may generally possess more aristocratic frequenters, or the Alameda at Cadiz oftener exhibit both elegant and prettier costumed ladies, than those seen during week days on the Rambla; nevertheless, the spectacle it usually furnishes, especially on Sunday evenings, is always attractive, and characteristic of Spanish manners, as likewise their taste to pass much time in the open air, and there enjoy each other's society. One of the days he passed at Barcelona being Sunday, when the moon was at its full, and the weather, though warm, yet felt agreeable after sunset, the writer had thus an opportunity of seeing the Rambla to the greatest advantage. Even till past eleven, or near midnight, ladies in full costume, usually without bonnets, and having black veils suspended from the back part of their heads by jewelled pins or otherwise, which hang gracefully over the shoulders, with the indispensable fan almost always in motion, then mustered in great numbers; while well-dressed gentlemen were also numerous. In fact, the whole scene more resembled an "at home," or a "tertulia," to quote the Spanish designation, than a public promenade. Besides the above, various specimens belonging to less elevated ranks also freely mixed in the crowd; while that disgusting abomination, so universal among Spaniards-cigarette smoking-showed that many men, having good coats on their backs, and otherwise fashionably attired, did not appear really aware they were then in the presence of polite female society, since none seemed to think there was any harm done, when puffing into the smiling faces of those "belles," with whom they might be conversing, a tobacco-tainted atmosphere. But perhaps this filthy custom is only one of the "cosas di España" so common throughout the Peninsula that it is rarely noticed either by delinquents or those disapproving of such habits. Hence, these breaches against good breeding may be here seldom condemned. This becomes more regrettable, for, were the rules regulating true politeness rigidly enforced, likely some improvement would take place in that particular.

Besides the Rambla and Plaza del Palacio, that of the Constitucion,

I 2

very

near the former locality, as also the square in which the palace of the Audiencia Provincial is situated, deserve being visited, on account of their rather beautiful structure. Several of the streets are wide, straight, and contain houses apparently commodious, exhibiting externally also much the same aspect as analogous thoroughfares in Paris. Having, however, almost invariably, thick matting, or carpets, by way of curtains, hanging outside the windows to exclude sunshine, a vista along these so decorated streets looks very Oriental. Generally speaking, they are narrow, and different from those of more modern construction. In the older part of the city many are not only very tortuous, but of so limited width that vehicles cannot enter; while two horses, mules, or donkeys, could scarcely pass, and certainly not if loaded. Numerous streets, hence, have posts placed to prevent any one but foot passengers from entering; while at others, which are sufficiently broad to allow one line of wheel carriages effecting a safe passage, a small signboard, exhibiting the figure of an animal drawing a cart, is placed with its head directed towards the end, through which it can only proceed. Of course, when the drawing animal's head is reversed, all entrance by that terminus is strictly prohibited. A large portion of the city, especially the most ancient, being of this description, and into which sunlight rarely if ever enters, but where no free ventilation can prevail, or pure atmosphere be admitted into these thicklypeopled districts, it cannot seem surprising if pestilence and fever, both in ancient and modern times, should attack the population. No doubt these localities, which superficial observers have even praised as both "shady and sheltered," are being gradually improved; while, in consequence of the present laudable desire for modernising, and whereby new streets have been recently built, imitating other cities of Europe, beneficial results must inevitably follow in reference to public health.

The churches are numerous, and some merit examination. The cathedral, or Seo," as it is denominated, will of course first attract the attention of travellers, especially as from thence a fine view of the whole district may be obtained, in consequence of being situated on the highest part of the old town. When visiting these structures, Ford's Guide Book, which all tourists should possess who travel in Spain, will fully describe and point out whatever may be worthy of inspection. Consequently, to give a detailed description of any of the different places of worship seems superfluous. It may, however, be remarked generally, that several are very ancient, and others exhibit rather elegant Gothic architecture, having a square polygonal belfry attached. During the Sunday forenoon, which the writer spent at Barcelona, he accidentally entered one of the principal churches, which then happened to be filled by an apparently fashionable congregation, while a priest was preaching. The audience seemed most attentive to the sermon, which was impressively delivered by the preacher, who must have been a great favourite, from the dense crowd of people assembled.

The church was splendidly illuminated with a profusion of candles over the high altar, and elsewhere. The orator spoke much of the Virgin, and of her efficacy in saving sinners; but he rarely mentioned the name of Christ. Looking over the heads of this crowded congregation, it was a curious spectacle to notice the constant movement of fans in the hands of worshippers, the graceful veils of the ladies, their black hair and sparkling eyes, which, however, sometimes wandered towards other objects

than the priest or dead images before them. Nevertheless, complete silence reigned everywhere, which is invariably a characteristic feature in Spanish churches; so that when not lighted up during some "funcion," these localities are always sombre and melancholy.

While matters were thus proceeding inside, opposite the chief church entrance a number of persons were likewise congregated, for whom there was no room within. One general remark would therefore at present be made by the writer, as it fairly applies to nearly all the churches he visited in Spain, viz. that however beautiful they may be in detail, these structures are very frequently spoiled, in their general effect, by a superfluity of ornament; gilding the walls, pillars, altars, and so forth, being often to such an extent that the place looks as if it contained a collection of gingerbread figures, like those seen at fairs, but of unusual magnitude, while the light from without is so obstructed that it becomes difficult to see the interiors, or to examine those parts which might merit approval, and still less the pictures they contain. But respecting these inherent defects applying to Spanish churches and cathedrals, almost without an exception, further criticisms will be made in the course of this narrative.

WIND-SOWN FLOWERS.
(BEING TWO EPIGRAMS AND A RONDEAU.)
BY W. CHARLES KENT.

I. BIRTH OF THE BUTTERFLY.

VELVET larvæ, sleek and green,
Dyed by verdure each devours,
Like green buds in bloom are seen,
Blossoming to fluttering flowers.

II. THE SWEET O' TH' YEAR AND THE FALL O' TH' LEAF.
Vernal hopes, when gushing

From youth's heart, resemble,
In their radiance tender,
Spring-time's silver flowers:
Withered hopes, all blushing
Death-red, downward tremble,
As with ruddy splendour
Autumn's golden showers.

III. A RONDEAU.

Round her slender waist a garland,
Woven in frolic, Lilian wound;
Sweet blush-rose and sweeter jasmine
In the coil alternate bound.

Sauntering midst the blooming thickets,
Trained for timorous love's retreat,
With the calm blue heaven above us,
And the green grass at our feet-
Better thus, said I, the garland

O'er my Lilian's brow be placed,
While a loving arm creeps fondly
Round her slender waist.

THE MYSTERIES OF THE DESERT.

It is an old saying that travellers see strange things, and of a surety the French are the travellers who see the strangest. Not so many months back we were pecked to pieces by the critics because we seemed to put faith in the extraordinary yarns an old sailor, M. de Jonnès, narrated to us, and now we have come across another adventurer, who has spent so extraordinary a life that we almost fear to make extracts from it. Still we will bid the critics defiance, and proceed to analyse the life-history of Hadji Ben-el-Hamed Bey, and reveal the desert mysteries he describes, always without guaranteeing their truth. That we will leave to M. Stanislas de la Peyrouse, who has volunteered a preface.*

The hadji's real name is Louis du Couret, and he is the son of a colonel of the Empire, killed in Spain in 1813. From his earliest youth he entertained a desire, like Lord Lovel, foreign countries for to see, and, at the age of twenty-four, he tore himself from his newly married wife and proceeded to the East. It does not seem as if he were in any hurry to get back to connubial bliss, for he has been travelling nearly ever since. He fought at Nezib, under the banners of Ibrahim Pasha; but when peace was restored, he proceeded into Central Africa, where, according to his biographer, he proved one of the most surprising facts of anatomic physiology, the existence of the Niam-Niams, or gentry with tails. Some people are so daring as still to deny their existence, in spite of the hadji's assertion. It is a pity that the colonel did not shame the doubters by bringing home a live specimen; but we presume the difficulty arose from the fact of the Niams being anthropophagists, and would, therefore, have run a risk of starvation. But the great desire M. du Couret felt was to visit Mecca, and he therefore became a Mussulman, going through the ceremonial with unshrinking fortitude. We have had a traveller who incurred the same risks without altering his religion, but M. de la Peyrouse makes it a point in his hero's favour that he should so nobly have overcome prejudices. Still, we must do him the credit to state that he has remained true to his new faith, though what views madame son épouse entertained on the delicate subject of polygamy are not made known to us. After a lengthened stay at Mecca, the hadji traversed the Hedjaz-Yemen-Hadramout and the country of the Wahabites. He was, among other accidents, shipwrecked, and exposed for sale in the marketplace of Derrezêh by his captors. He was saved from this humiliation by the governor of the province, and set off for Bagdad, proceeding thence to the states of the Imaum of Mascat, whose confidential minister he speedily became. After serving for some time as Arabic interpreter to a French mission, the hadji set out for Persia, where he made rather a mess of it. Accused of a crime of which he was innocent, he suffered the bastinado, and was obliged to fly for his life. He succeeded in reaching Mascat once more, and finally returned to France, after twenty

*Les Mystères du Désert: Souvenirs de Voyages en Asie et en Afrique, &c. Two Vols. Paris: E. Dentu.

years' absence. He applied to the government of 1848 for means to carry out a mission in Central Africa, but was foiled, and has since supported a numerous family by his literary labours. His first production was "Le Pélerinage à la Mecque," edited by Alexandre Dumas; next, "Arabia Felix," which appeared in the feuilleton of the Siècle; and lastly, "Les Mystères du Désert," which we have now under consideration. Going on at the present rate of progress, the hadji will require twenty years to describe all his doings in the East, and we heartily wish them to him. He should, however, publish more rapidly, for his books lose much of their interest, owing to the lengthened period since the events occurred. Still we can find much that is novel and worthy of extract.

In order to pursue his researches in Arabia, the hadji joined a caravan bound for Mareb. The only European who had ever entered this country before him was a Frenchman, Arnaud, known as the Hekim Yussuf. The journey was a terrible one, for the caravan had to pass through the celebrated seas of sand before reaching Mokallah, on the Indian ocean. But, in addition to the usual difficulties of a desert journey, this portion of Arabia was more especially infested by wild beasts, and the lions are such a scourge, that various novel schemes of killing them have been invented. Here are some specimens:

The Mareby have invented an infallible method for waging war on the lions. They train panthers to hunt it, just as our dogs are taught to follow the track of the boar or wolf. To obtain this end the panthers are caught while still young, and when perfectly broken in, the hunter binds their eyes and hangs them over his dromedary by a rope. When the lion's hiding-place has been detected, the boldest of the tribe walks towards the animal. On his approach, if the lion be at home, it is sure to come out, for it is ever ready for a fight. Then the panthers are uncoupled, and attack the foe, one in the front, the other in the rear. Then a deadly combat ensues, and the panther that faces the lion is almost certain to lose its life. But the other one leaps on the lion's back, and breaks in the vertebræ of the neck. At times, the lioness will come to the rescue, and then hunters and panthers have their work cut out.

Another favourite mode of killing the lion is to watch till it has indulged in a gorge of beef, when it lies digesting like a boa-constrictor, and cannot offer the slightest resistance. Another way is to dig a trench, surrounded by a strong breastwork of wood, in which the hunter lies by the side of an ox. The lion, attracted by the scent of fresh meat, comes within range, and the hunter takes a deliberate aim. The only unpleasantness is, that if he does not kill the animal at the first shot it is all over with him; no matter how strong the breastwork may be, the lion is sure to tear it down and take its revenge. In addition to wild beasts, the desert is infested with all sorts of noxious serpents, which cause grievous losses to a caravan. On the journey to which we refer, the reis, by mistake, stopped at a place known as the "refuge of vipers," and the consequence was that several persons and camels were stung to death. The reis, in philosophising on the matter afterwards, ascribed it to the fact that, on setting out, a santon had cast a spell on the caravan. The superstitious Arabs have various omens to predict the result of an expedition. Thus, if, on setting out, they meet a black man in a poor condition, that is a bad sign. On the other hand, two