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What words are these?» said Azbeaz. "Am I the only man in the world to be King? What do you see in this hump and monkey face, that you should insist upon its becoming the head of the nation? No, all is as it should be. We are not the children of Allah for nothing. He ordains every event for the best; he sees whilst we are blind; he directs whilst we only follow. You have been pursuing the decrees of fate, and in so doing truth has come to light, and the world will perceive how justice has been ordained. You, Khodadad, you are the lawful King of this country. See this, O you men-men of the pen, and men of the sword!» addressing the assembly, and at the same time drawing from his breast the jewel delivered to him by the dying negress, this bauble is a proof of the truth of what I say. »

He then described, in a few words, the scene to which he had been witness, ordered the youngest old man to stand forth and corroborate his words, and finished by declaring that Khodadad was the lawful King, the descendant of the former dynasty, and then invited the proper authorities instantly to instal him as such.

Khodadad in all humility consented to that which he could not avoid, and being led forth by Azbeaz and conducted to the room of state, over the great gate of the palace, he was then duly presented to the people as their lawful sovereign. Gulchin looked on from the terrace-top in rapture, whilst Azbeaz, who became in fact the adviser and the principal vizier, as he continued to be the bosom friend of the new King, returned to pursuits and habits which he cherished; and, it is even said, was charmed to have an opportunity of showing that he could make a shoe better than Sakalchok.

PATCHWORK,

BY CAPT. B. HALL.

We do not see why this author might not have stuck to his old title, Fragments of Voyages and Travels.' The three series put forth under that heading were made up of materials not more heterogeneous than the new mosaic-all collected in the course of his wanderings by sea and land-all, in fact, scraps from his pocket-books-and all brought into sufficient harmony of tone and effect by the veracious reflection of an odd and interesting character, which does not seem to have been much altered since he first took pen in hand.

Few writers lay themselves more open to quizzing few can prose and bore more successfully than he now and then does ; but the Captain's merit is real and great. He can draw with the pen as truly as Brockedon can write with the pencil. In the volumes now before us, he mostly goes over trodden ground; but, whenever he really is himself, and exerts his talents, he imparts a freshness to whatever spot he touches, and carries the reader, with untiring good-humour, cheerily along with him. Turn where we will, we find posies of variegated flowers presented to us; and though the florilegium

become embarrassing from their abundance, we are sure to find in every one of them, whether sombre or gay, a sprig of Basil. We like this individuality. If he writes about a breakfast, there is a hearty relish in the page-putting us in mind of «Waiter, be always continually bringing up more dry toast." In one of his adventures, when on the road from Naples to Salerno, you are beginning to shudder at the danger of an upset, the question being whether the carriage is to be hurled over the cliff, three or four hundred feet high, to the right, or crushed up the bank to the left-but no! it is the Captain's good pleasure that the whole of your alarm and concern should be, like his own, centered upon the ruin of a capsized pie, from whose savoury interior the rich gravy rains, as it is reversed in the air,-and he succeeds. Had he been in Byron's devoted long-boat, how truly would he have 'griev'd for those who perish'd with the cutter; And also for the biscuit-casks and butter!'

Indeed, for a gentleman by no means indifferent to creaturecomforts, he is somewhat unfortunate in the matter of pasties. During his ascent of Etna, the piece of resistance-a noble beef-steak pie-was half sacked by those chevaliers d'industrie, the ants; and as the party did not consider formic acid an appetising sauce, the rest was entirely spoiled.

He spares none of his own small miseries-a feature, in its own way, heroic-and entitled to be carefully considered by those critics who have sometimes been so very severe on his free and easy method of tampering with the private feelings, and what most men (to say nothing of women) would have guessed to be the sore points, of other Europeans. His cuticle is, in some parts, of a peculiarly dense construction, and he takes it for granted that the rest of his race are constructed upon the same pattern. This is the head and front of his worst offendings-which we regard, not indeed without special wonder sometimes, but on the whole with charitable placidity. But enough of preface.On turning over volume the first, the first patch' we find pencilled down secundum artem with marks of particular approbation, is the account of a

cheerful August day, spent in exploring the delta of the Rhone, now in process of formation at the upper end of the Lake of Geneva. We believe the Captain is allowed to be a fair working geologist; but there can be no doubt that he possesses, in a very remarkable degree, the power of making scientific subjects intelligible, and therefore captivating, to unscientific readers a power which we are not sure that any first-rate geologists of our time are very highly distinguished for-except, indeed, Dr. Buckland and Mr. Lyell. The passages now to be quoted seem to us quite admirable for clearand we therefore conclude they must have cost the author great pains

ness;

The Rhone at this part of its course is highly turbid, and at certain seasons of the year, when swollen by floods and accelerated in its course, bears along with it materials of considerable magnitude. At all times and seasons, indeed, it carries with it, farther or nearer into the bosom of the lake, the ruins of a hundred hills, and quietly deposits them on the bottom, at distances varying inversely as the magnitude of the particles forming the sediment. The larger ones, such as blocks of stone, and fragments of shingle, after rubbing and grinding against one another over many a turbulent league of the steep bed of the river, at length find a resting-place near the upper edge of the delta. Then follow pebbles and coarse gravel, which are borne somewhat farther into the lake; next fine gravel,-sand still further, while mud is carried further still; the dividing line between each pair of these deposits being sometimes quite indistinct, though at other times it is very clearly marked. These and some other features in the formation of a delta depend upon the volume as well as speed of the river, the inclination of the ground forming its bed or channel, the peculiar nature of the soil brought down, the height of the circumjacent mountains, the latitude of the district, and various other circumstances modifying the climate. After the stones, gravel, sand, and the coarser sorts of mud have been successively deposited at the bottom of the lake, a whitish, milky-looking set of clouds may be observed to extend for a considerable distance beyond the outer edge of the delta. These clouds roll about independently for a time in the eddies caused by the influx of so great a stream, as if unwilling to mingle with the pure waters of the lake. In point of fact, they do not mix, for the particles, which form the subaqueous clouds alluded to, are merely very finely powdered limestone, granite, schistus, and other rocky materials, and are all heavier than water, and have quite as decided a tendency to reach the bottom as the larger masses have. Owing, however, to their extreme

minuteness, their weight becomes disproportionately small compared to the resistance which their surfaces offer to the fluid in which they seem to be floating; and thus, though they are all the time sinking, and must eventually reach the bottom, their downward motion is imperceptible to the eye.

If you take a boat, which I strongly recommend, and not only skirt along the outer edge of the delta, and cross it in various directions, but row off to some distance, you will perceive the gradual diminution of the turbidness in the supply of the water coming from the Rhone, till at last you will scarcely be able to perceive any impurity in it at all. If, when you reach that point, viz., the extreme outer edge of the delta, you sink a lead to the bottom, prepared with a little grease (or arming, as we call it at sea), you will fish up some mud, which, though abundantly visible, will be almost if not totally impalpable or insensible to your touch when rubbed between the finger and thumb. If now you begin at that point, and steer directly for the mouth of the river, you will find at each cast of the lead not only a diminished depth, but you will also observe an increased size in the particles forming the floor of the lake, till at last the bow of your boat will rattle amongst the shingle, or grate along a bed of gravel. You will now be in front of a natural plantation of willows, alders, canes, and other thirsty, deep-drinking plants, which, both by their growth and decay, cooperate with the stream in producing dry land over districts where but a few years before, geologically speaking, the lake may have measured many fathoms in depth. If you now row to the other or southwestern end of the lake, you will find the Rhone, which entered as thick as pea-soup, running out through the middle of the city of Geneva, as clear as the deep blue sea itself, all its contaminating materials having been long ago deposited at the bottom.' - vol. i. Pp. 12-14.

He pauses to remind us that, besides the mighty Rhone, a hundred minor streams are all rushing from the Alps into the Leman lake-all performing, according to their resources, the same species of work within its bosom; and he then invites us to accompany him up the valley of the great river, that is above the lake. Here, he says,

'We shall find many extensive ranges of perfectly horizontal alluvial ground, now thickly covered with vegetation, which had evidently, in old times, been the basins of lakes into which the very same Rhone must have flowed, and gradually filled them up from end to end, by slowly protruding its delta or deltas into each of these lakes in succession, precisely as the great delta above describ

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