a

of Karakoz, the Eastern Punch. The latter consists in a kind of phantasmagorical representation, in which the shadows of two or three grotesque figures are thrown on a piece of cloth, behind which are a light and the man who directs the whole and holds the conversation. The characters are Turks and Persians. Karakoz is generally a Turk, and performs actions something similar to those of the long-nosed hero of London streets, but far inferior in wit and variety. Sometimes the whole affair is nothing but a series of tedious conversations, (in a language understood by no one of the spectators, except when a phrase of Arabic is now and then introduced), ending in the expulsion of one of the interlocutors, whom Karakoz generally kicks out. Formerly, it was the custom to introduce an European consul, in all kinds of undignified positions ; but this has been forbidden by the government.

At many coffee-houses singing alone forms the attraction. The songs, as might be expected, are, for the most part, about black eyes and tresses ; and are chaunted by young men or boys, generally handsome and well dressed. Their profession is by no means a sinecure ; and they are often driven, in order to acquire the necessary degree of excitement, to resort to the use of the intoxicating hasheesh, either by smoking it, chewing it, or taking it in those carefully compounded bonbons for which Cairo is celebrated. The use of this drug soon spoils their voices, and gives them a dissipated and vacant expression of countenance. of the coffee houses two or three hundred people collect to listen to these performances; and it is the custom, at the end of nearly every verse, for the spectators to cry out in chorus “ Ullah !” prolonging the exclamation to its utmost possible length. A man, with a tray or tambourine, goes round occasionally to collect the fivefuddah pieces which the generosity of the spectators induces them to bestow. Meanwhile a great consumption of shishehs and chibooks goes on, as well as of coffee and of water, the latter being generally supplied gratis. Some coffee-house keepers put an aromatic herb into the water-jar, and passers by often go in, take out a pitcher full, drink, and depart, without being expected to pay, or even to say "thank you.' They are, however, deemed bound, if possible, not to touch the brim of the pitcher with their lips ; but to turn back their heads and pour the water literally down their throats.

Many coffee-houses are too small to hold the crowd which collects on these occasions. The lovers of harmony, accordingly,

NO, XXIY. VOL. IY.

In some

KK

sit in front of the door, on benches or small crates or cages, made of the branches of the palm tree. The singer occupies, with the music, a conspicuous position, which arrangement, to my taste, might be dispensed with, as most of them, however handsome they may be, contort their faces in a most hideous manner. The Arabs enjoy these performances exceedingly; and with them, when the accompaniment of fife and coffee

is not forgotten, there is no surer way of producing the much-longed-for oblivion of all the cares of life, as well as a soothing consciousness of present enjoyment, without any violent excitement, which they call by the short and expressive name of “ Keyf.”

The quarter of Abon-el-Abbas is situated at the commencement of that long tongue of land which terminates in the site of the ancient Pharos. It therefore touches on both sides on the sea. During our stroll we came to a coffee-house situated on the shore, near an old fort ; and entering, called for shishehs, or waterpipes, and coffee. In order to enjoy the beauty of the night scene, we took our station on a little terrace overhanging the water, which, as usual, was restless, and rolled in with an incessant murmur, and splashing against the feet of the houses that line the shore. The moon was just at that time hanging over the hill of Kom-el-Dyk, on the opposite side of the bay or harbour, so that it silvered the tops of the rushing waters, and allowed us to extend our gaze far out across the dim sea, on the one hand, and to trace the bleak outline of the houses, and forts, and batteries, that swept round the other, from the Pharillon and Pharos to our feet. Unfortunately there were no rising grounds worthy of the name to diversify the scene ; so that with the exception of the jagged profile of the half-finished fort on the hill-I have already mentioned, all was flat and low. At such a time, however, the irregular outline of the city, with its slender mosques, its turreted houses, its palm trees rising here and there, with their drooping clusters of leaves at the top like so many hearse-plumes, its twinkling light reflected in the tremulous wave; and the longsweeping line of the sea-horizon, with difficulty distinguished above the white breakers that guard the entrance of the port, beheld between a huge old deserted fortress on the one hand, and a vast pile of buildings, celebrated as the scene of a horrid murder, on the other : all these things, I say, seen through the graceful arches of wood-work of the terrace of an eastern coffee-house, and combined with a clear blue sky, clustering with stars that vied in brilliancy with the silver moon herself, formed a landscape which even Claude would not have disdained to paint.

We spent nearly an hour in this quiet place, inhaling the fragrant tumbuk, and sipping the thick black coffee. Our conversation turned principally on England, and I was expected to enumerate all the wonders to be witnessed in that land of wonders, and to give my opinion as to the length of time a British fleet would take in blowing the forts we then saw out of the water. It is the general impression in Egypt that sooner or later this consummation must come to pass; but by the Levantines the idea is not considered at all pleasant, whilst the Arabs look forward to the event, if not with hope, at least with indifference. The Levantine population being principally Catholics, would prefer the domination of the French.

Having paid a few piastres to the master of the coffee-house, we returned to the precincts of the fair. By this time a vast crowd had collected from all parts of the city, of which, I think, the majority were women. I may take this opportunity of remarking, that if any person is fond of handsome eyes, he has only to come to this country to be satisfied. A great many of the women are in every respect exceedingly beautiful ; so that it does not require the force of imagination that Shakspeare supposed to

" See Helen's beauty in a brow of Egypt." On the present occasion, without desiring to be at all satirical on the fair Alexandrians, it was pretty evident that, in spite of their veils, their principal object in coming forth was to be admired. They took every possible means to attract attention, and in many cases their veils were so carelessly put on that a great part of their face could be discovered.

After rambling about a good deal, both in the square and in the narrow moon-lit streets and dark passages in its precincts, we returned, considerably fatigued, to our homes.

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THE DUKE AND THE “CROSSING SWEEPER."

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I took a walk to see the statue of the Duke of Wellington at Hyde Park. There he sits, overlooking the multitude, wielding

, his truncheon—a great General. He has won battles, he has stormed cities, he has caused the slaying of thousands, and-he has gained a name !

I turned to go home again, and passed along Oxford Street. There I saw a poor boy sweeping a crossing ; but not such as is. generally seen. He had formed a straight clean path across the road, edged with a narrow border of “street dirt. He then (with the same material) made, as decorations along the outside of the crossing—a series of hearts, circles within circles, ovals, &c. and that with a regularity that was perfectly astounding in a ragged beggar boy. It was done with almost artistic skill, and I felt that he had a mind above his station.

The philosophic, the scientific, the artistic, and the skilful inr general, may jeer at my bringing such a paltry circumstance into notice ; but of them I ask, Can they fathom the mind of man? If they can, let them read that poor boy's, and tell the world what it contains, that it may not for ever be steeped in the darkness of ignorance?

I still continued my way homewards, and these thoughts revolved in

my mind. I thought, though the statue of the General may rear its head high up above men, and may, perchance, occupy that station for ages yet to come-still, the obscure beggar, wbo may be doomed all his life to grovel in the dirt of streets to obtain a pittance, proved to me that there exists a germ of beauty in every human mind, and only proper and sufficient cultivation is required to expand and fructify it.

S. W.

THE POET'S VISION.

was.

* They have no vision of a better world

To whom this present world seems not a dream." * He who strives to unite the REAL and the IDEAL must endure toil and sorrow.

In either of these regions he might find peace; but let him endeavour to unite them and he will need the spirit of prophecy, telling of bright things to come, to sustain his courage. Yet the only true life is in this labour. He who is solely devoted to the ideal is a dreamer ; while he who is satisfied with the real is equally ignorant of the true life and the true work of man.

Such was the meditation of a young poet, who sat looking from his study-window in the evening. " No!” he continued, as he saw the sons of toil pass by with joyless faces,—" this is not the time nor the place for poetry. I can write visions of paradise upon this paper ; but what can I do to write anything like true poetry upon the face of this real world? Thus he meditated until his thoughts had wandered so far that he knew not where he

The twilight gathered ; and the full, red harvest-moon was just rising over the hill

, when a strange visitor entered the poet's study. He was an old man with a mild, benevolent and shining countenance. Without

any introduction, he advanced towards the young student, looked upon him with a smile, and said :

- Will you go with me to that land of which you have been dreaming--the land where life is poetry, and men are happy? "I will go !” said the young poet, "gladly!”

" * But,” said the visitor, with a serious countenance, prepared to do your work when you return?

If I give you a glimpse of the New World, will you endeavour to copy some of its features in this Old World, of which you complain ?-for observe, to none is that brighter world displayed as a mere spectacle, but as a model, to be imitated here. In all

ages

visions of that world, (called “heaven,' or 'paradise,' or the millennial state,') have been granted to poets, prophets, and philanthropists, that they might return to this world inspired with zeal to improve its fallen condition. If you would be one of this band of men, come with me!"

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are you

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