"JOHN BULL ET SON ILE" IN THE SIXTEENTH CENTURY. 635 upon their wooden floors, and many cushions of tapestry, on which travellers seat themselves. England is remarkable for all sorts of fruits, as apricots, peaches, and quantities of nuts. . . . The country is covered and very shady, for the lands are all enclosed with hedges, oaks, and many other sorts of trees, so that in trav elling you seem to be in one continued wood. But you will find many little flights of steps, which are called 'amphores.' Over these foot-passengers go, by little paths, into the grounds; here horsemen cannot come, but are obliged to keep the highroad, among trees and bushes... The English . . . consume great quantities of beer, double and single, and do not drink it out of glasses, but from earthenware pots with silver handles and covers, and this even in houses of middle fortune; for as to the poor, the covers of their pots are only pewter, and in some places, such as villages, their pots for beer are made only of wood. The houses of the people of this country are as well furnished as any in the world." keepers have commonly large purses, in which are three or four smaller ones full of money, whence you may gather that this country is very rich, and that people in trade gain more in one week than those in Germany or Spain do in a month; for here you may commonly see artisans, such as hatters and joiners, play at tennis for a crown, which is not often seen elsewhere, particularly on a working day, and continually feasting in a tavern upon rabbits, hares, and all kinds of meat.. Both fish and butter are cheap, for I once bought nine plaice for a denier; but you must understand that the denier is worth nine tournois French money, or there. abouts, and is called a peni. . . . The men are large, handsome, and ruddy, with flaxen hair, being in a Northern latitude. Their women, of any estimation, are the greatest beauties in the world, and as fair as alabaster, without offence to those of Italy, Flanders, and Germany be it spoken. They are also cheerful and courteous, and of a good address. The English in general are cheerful, and great lovers of music; for there is no church, however The insecurity of life and property small, but has musical service performed seems to have impressed M. Perlin deepin it. They are likewise great drunkards, ly: "Likewise, in this country you will for if an Englishman would treat you, he scarcely find any nobleman some of whose will say, in his language, 'Vis dring a relations have not been beheaded. For quarta rim Gasquim oim Hespaignol oim my part (with reverence to my reader), I Malvoysi, - that is, Will you drink a had rather be a hog-driver and keep my quart of Gascoigne wine, another of Span-head, for this disorder falls furiously on ish, and another of Malmsey?' In drinking or eating, they will say to you above a hundred times, 'Drind iou,' which is, I am going to drink to you;' and you should answer them in their language, Iplaigu,' which means, I pledge you.' If you would thank them in their language, you must say, God tanque artelay,' which is to say, I thank you with all my heart.' When they are drunk, they will swear blood and death that you shall drink all that is in your cup, and will thus say to you, 'Bigod, sol drind iou agoud oin.'... It is to be noted that in this excellent kingdom there is, as I have said, no kind of order. The people are reprobates, and thorough enemies to good manners and letters, for they don't know whether they belong to God or the Devil, which St. Paul has reprehended in many people, saying, Be not transported with divers sorts of wind, but be constant and steady to your belief.' In this country all the shops of every trade are open, like those of the barbers in France, and have many glass windows. . . . In the windows, as well in cities as villages, are plenty of flowers, and at the taverns plenty of hay 4 the heads of great lords. For a while you may see these great lords in vast pomp and magnificence, and the next instant you behold them under the hands of the executioner." In drawing a brilliant, and perhaps flattering, picture of his native land, which seems, from his account, to have been in the golden age at that period, he contrasts the justice of the two countries: "Its" (France's) "justice is well administered, not tyrannically, as in England, which is the pest and ruin of a country, for a kingdom should be gov erned not by shedding human blood in such abundance as to make it run into rivulets, thereby disturbing the good people." Criminal reform appears to have been as much needed then as now: "In England, the legal punishments are very cruel, for a man is put to death for a trifling offence. For a crime which in France would be only punished with a whipping, a man would here be sentenced to death. It is true they have here but two sorts of executions, hanging and beheading, and by this means a man is as severely punished for a trifling as a more heinous offence, which ought not to be, and is better regulated in France, for there are several sorts of torments, according to the crime." M. Perlin is kinder to our climate than those who have come after him, his only remark on the subject being, "In the seaports of this country, it rains frequently on account of storms at sea." On the whole, it is to be hoped that our visitor enjoyed himself, for he concludes the account of his travels with, "It is good living here, as I found it in my time. Let this suffice for England." From The Peoples of the World. THE Hindoo shrine which is most known in Europe is that of Juggernaut, Juggernauth, or Jagannât'h. Who has not heard of his car, and of the human beings who throw themselves under its ponderous wheels? A few words on this celebrated shrine may therefore be appropriately given here, more especially as the utmost absurdity has been written in regard to it. The temple is situated in Pooree, or Juggernaut, in the province of Orissa, about two hundred and fifty miles south-west of Calcutta, and is chiefly remarkable for the idol contained in it, which is annually dragged in its car in procession. The town in which this celebrated procession is held is mean, dirty, and badly built. The streets are crowded with sacred oxen, who are trained to attack with their horns, "in a quiet and measured way," any intruders on the sacredness of the route. Various kinds of monkeys may be seen perched on the houses, walls, and trees; and in the water-tanks are tame crocodiles, which are objects of worship. "The Pagoda of Juggernaut," writes an eye-witness, "is at the end of the principal street, which is very wide, and composed almost entirely of religious establishments with low-pillared verandahs in front, and plantations of trees interposed. The temple stands within a square space inclosed by a lofty stone wall, and measuring six hundred and fifty feet on a side. The principal entrance is crowded with the baskets and umbrellas of the natives, and the huts of dried leaves and branches which serve as a shelter for a number of fakirs, and it opens on a vestibule with a pyramidal roof. On each side is a monstrous figure, representing a kind of crowned lion. In front is a column of dark-colored basalt, of very light and elegant proportions, surmounted by the figure of the monkey-god Hanuman, the Indian Mercury. The great pagoda rises from twenty feet high within the outer enclos ure; from a base thirty feet square it rises one hundred and eighty feet, tapering slightly from bottom to top, and rounded off on the upper part, being crowned with a kind of dome. The temple is dedicated to Krishna, who is the principal object of worship in the character of Juggernaut, and as an incarnation of Vishnoo, but is held in joint tenancy with Siva and with Sabhadra, the supposed sister and wife of Siva. There are idols of each, consisting of rudely sculptured blocks of wood about six feet in height, surmounted by frightful representations of the human countenance. Krishna is dark blue, Siva white, and Sabhadra of a yellowish hue. In front of the altar on which these idols are placed is a figure of the hawk-god, Garounda. A repast is daily served to these idols; it consists of 410 pounds of rice, 225 pounds of flour, 350 pounds of clarified butter (ghee), 167 pounds of treacle, 65 pounds of vege tables, 187 pounds of milk, 24 pounds of spices, 34 pounds of salt, and 41 pounds of oil. These articles of food certainly seem sufficient, not only to satisfy the appetite of the idols, whatever may be the capacity of their divine stomachs, but even those of the holy men and attendants who belong to the establishment. During the meal the doors are closed against all but a few favored individuals sanctified by long fasts and a habit of asceticism and penitence. Loud strains of the peculiar music, better appreciated by Oriental than by Western ears, fill the air and drown all other sounds while the gods are consuming their daily rations." On the day of procession two stout cables are attached to the car. These are seized by thousands, or by as many as can obtain a place to hold by. At one time so eager were the devotees to share in the honor of dragging the idol's car, that the greatest and best men of the town struggled with each other to obtain a hold upon the ropes, and, to use Bruton's language, "they are so greedy and eager to draw it, that whosoever by shouldering, crowding, shoving, heaving, thrusting, or in any insolent way, can but lay a hand upon the rope, they think themselves blessed and happy; and when it is going along the city, there are many that will offer themselves as a sacrifice to the idol, and desperately lie down on the ground that the chariot-wheels may run over them, whereby they are killed outright; some get broken arms, some broken legs, so that many of them are destroyed, and think to merit heaven." Such was the idol of Juggernaut and its procession in former times. Of late years its popularity has vastly fallen off. The Hindoo is beginning to be wonderfully cautious of that swarthy skin of his, even in the service of the gods, and with a view to his salvation. On a late occasion, indeed, instead of thousands of devotees struggling to get at the ropes, not a single hand assisted to drag the car along; and to the horror and chagrin of the Brahmins, for the first time in history the idols of Juggernaut came to a standstill in the streets of Pooree and yet no harm befel the multitude from the avenging wrath of the gods! A not uncommon way is for the pilgrim to extend himself flat out on the ground on his stomach, to stretch out his hands as far as possible, then rise and place his feet where his hands had been, and repeat the process; thus he passes over the whole weary road to Pooree, it may be for hundreds of miles, by distances of about six feet at a time, his bruised body being the instrument of measurement. One cause of the popularity of Juggernaut was, and is, that though on the road caste distinctions are as strictly kept up as on any other occasion, yet in the presence of the god all manner of men, high and low, may mingle together, and eat from the same table. From The Spectator. IRISH LOVE AND LAUGHTER. IT is hardly wonderful that Englishmen fail to comprehend Irishmen. Few races comprehend their enemies; and it is the Irish who are enemies whom Englishmen study, rather than the entire people, which is not so much hostile to England as censorious and suspicious about England, full of the jealousy with which unprosperous cousins regard their too successful kinsman. Even, however, were the two peoples friends, we question if they would ever quite understand each other, the real reason why men and women can so constantly be lovers, but, unless united by close ties of blood, so seldom comradefriends. How are Englishmen, indeed, with their fixed ideas, to understand a people who, while always looking back to the past, are always utopians in idea; who are among the most humorous and the most gloomy of mankind; who are as reckless as boys and as rusés as old men; who never in their wildest moments lose - sight of "interests," and never in their soberest moods are quite free from bedevilment; who positively enjoy self-pity, yet are keenly sensitive to any remark which trenches on their dignity; who have, as a people, no care for beauty or grace of surroundings, and will live in voluntary squalor rather than take trouble on behalf of external refinement, yet who exhibit perpetually in their lives, their literature, and their likings, an inborn susceptibility to grace and fancy, like that of a race of artists? How is an Englishman to understand, for example, the kind of emotion which prompts so many Irish lovesongs the half-adoring, half-quizzing, half-devoted, half-self-ridiculing emotion which shines out in so many of them? We have just looked through a collection of such songs, forming the first part of Mr. Graves's collection of " Songs of Irish Wit and Humor," which, but for them, would be a poor one- the political songs are badly chosen, without a trace of true Irish fire, and some of the drinking. songs would discredit Dutchmen - but which for the sake of the love-ditties all lovers of poetry will do well to keep. They are by many hands, some known, some unknown, and of all kinds and degrees of merit; but they all have one pe culiarity. Without an exception, they are pervaded by a spirit which, so far as we know, we could not find in any English love-songs whatever, a spirit of graceful and, to our minds, charming playfulness, so expressed that you never doubt for a moment that the light, sometimes even derisive, words cover an affectionateness not a passion, mind so deep, that but for the laugh, it might give way in tears. English poets have many moods in their love songs, but not, we think, exactly this one, not this union of sincere feeling, sometimes even of worshipping feeling, with an inner sense of a certain comedy in the situation, as if the poet would not suffer himself to be quite serious. We could produce from English collections specimens burning with passion, alive with worship, saturated with affectionateness, full of longing, of rapture, or of that melancholy "want," that sense of something missing and never to be replaced, which is the distinctive note of the English poetry of love. But for the special tone of these Irish songs, this love-making by a man who is dancing the while, yet in dancing is full of the wish to win his love, and fearful lest in his highest jumps he should ever cease to seem as admiring as he feels, we should, we fear, in English poetry look in vain. We can- They would laugh, maybe, though not not remember a man who could have very heartily; but would they catch the written them, for even Suckling would cry in it? And how many Englishmen have lapsed into mere gravity, and Her- would feel sympathy with the extravarick have made his utterance less sponta- gance in the really wonderful line we have neous; while both, though they might italicized, in which Mr. Allingham tries to have made their words smile, would have describe the rhythmical grace of his mislacked the power to make the laugh heard tress's dancing, a line which none but which accompanies some of these songs. an Irishman could have written? Take this one, for instance, by Lover. The man who made that is consciously The laughing at himself all the while, yet all the while is as earnest as if he were gravity itself: Oh, I'm not myself at all, Molly dear, Molly dear, I'm not myself at all. Nothin' carin', nothin' knowin', Faith, your shadow 'tis I'm growin', And I'm not myself at all! Th' other day I went confessin', But the half o' me is here, So give the other half to Molly Brierly." Oh, my shadow on the wall, Molly dear, Molly dear, Isn't like myself at all. For I've got so very thin, And I'm not myself at all! All fretting, dear, for you, 'Tis you should make me up the deficiency. So just let Father Taaff Make you my betther half, No dance o' last Whit-Monday night ex ceeded all before: pretty girl for miles about was missing from the floor; But Mary kept the belt of love, and oh, but she was gay! She danced a jig, she sung a song, that took my heart away. When she stood up for dancing, her steps were so complete, The music nearly killed itself to listen to her fect; The fiddler moaned his blindness, he heard her so much praised; But blessed himself he wasn't deaf when once her voice she raised. Or, to take a still better one, by Mr. Graves himself, in which the laughter is almost restrained into a smile, and which therefore comes nearer to English taste and comprehension without effort. This is part of "Nancy, the Pride of the West: " The lark's liquid raptures on high, And you will not the worse for the condition Are just old Irish airs from the sweet lips of be Oh, I'm not myself at all! I'll be not myself at all, Molly dear, Molly dear, Till you my own I call! Since a change o'er me there came 'Twould just come to the same : And 'twould simplify the matter intirely; Will any man say that, apart from the Nancy, From all human lovers she locks up the treas- | Palestine exploration, attracted the atten ure A thousand are starving to taste, measure tion of travellers. Situated in the midst Palestine, these insignificant hamlets have of the grandest scenery to be found in Of the ravishing round of her waist. claims upon the interest of the civilized world on other and wider grounds. Here There is a ring of merriment in that as we must seek for the two main sources of well as of feeling, of fun as well as of the Jordan, the most sacred stream on the passionate admiration and longing, to face of the earth, unique alike in its hiswhich we cannot readily quote an English tory and its geography, whilst its valley parallel. These songs are all made for presents geological problems that have the people, and have been caught by the yet to be solved. In Tell-el-Kady and people; and what must there be that none Banias are satisfied in a remarkable deof us perceive in the people to whom they gree all the conditions required to identify are so pleasant, what that is utterly at them respectively with the Dan of the Old variance with the other side of Irishmen Testament and the Cæsarea Philippi of so constantly presented to the Saxon? the New, and there is no doubt remaining How is it that the men who by preference as to their coincidence with those ancient wish love to be expressed with this note in it, with this tone of sweet, graceful humor bursting now and again as in the two lines we have marked into open laughter, not unconscious of positive absurdity, are in malice so sullen and black, and, as Englishmen feel, so unreasonable? It is all the stranger, that laugh, because though Irish prose is often witty, the laugh is seldom heard in it, any more than it is in Irish oratory, which, though far more poetical, is usually quite as grave in meaning as English eloquence. We never read the lighter poetry of Ireland, however slight, without fancying that somehow an elf and a peasant have been bound up in one form; and perhaps after all that is true, and it is through a certain doubleness of nature produced by centuries of a double life the true life passed at home, the other life lived before the stranger that an Irishman eludes the Englishman's comprehension. The latter, consciously or unconsciously, thinks all men not only are but should be single-natured whence part of his rather Philistine admiration for consistency and when he discovers a man who is not so, recoils, half in fear and half in a kind of contempt, both of them feelings fatal to mutual intelligence. From The Quiver. THE SOURCES OF THE JORDAN. On the confines of the Holy Land, below the lower spurs of Mount Hermon and the Anti-Lebanon, two villages, only a little more than four miles apart, standing on the crests of two small hills, and each peopled only by a few hundred inhabitants, have, since the earliest days of cities. Situated in the midst of the Huleh plain, about a mile south of the slopes of Hermon, is Tell-el-Kady, a rounded mound, six hundred and fifty-seven feet above the level of the sea, broad and low on the northern side, and rather steeper on the south. On the western side of the mound is an impenetrable thicket of oaks, oleanders, and reeds, and beneath them bursts forth the river Jordan, "full-grown at birth, a wonderful fountain, like a bubbling basin, the largest spring in Syria, and said to be the largest single spring in the world, where the drainage of the southern side of Hermon seems to have found a collective exit." The basin is nearly a hundred yards wide, and the water is singularly limpid. Another spring, rising in the centre of the mound, escapes over the south-western ridge, where, when Dr. Robinson saw it in 1852, it drove two mills, and possessed power to drive any number. It then joins the first and larger stream. The river, now known as the Nahr Leddan, descends rapidly through a luxuriant grove of oleanders, briers, wild figs, poplars, pistacia and mulberry trees, to the plain below, and, rushing on, passes Khurbet Daniah, another mound, and running side by side with the Nahr Hasbany, a smaller stream which drains the western slope of Hermon, it is, four miles to the southward, joined by the Nahr Banias, and becomes the Jordan, which receives the Hasbany as an affluent stream half a mile further south, and then flows into the dense jungle of papyrus of the Huleh marshes. There is no question that the city of Dan, the ancient Lesem or Laish, was a Phoenician colony, an offshoot of Sidon, and the story of the surprise and conquest of its careless inhabitants by the warlike Danites, who came up this rich plain from their tribal |