The New York Herald Newspaper, August 7, 1870, Page 8

BABYLON. WHAT IT IS LIKE TO-DAY. The Tower of Babel and the Palace of Semiramis. A Caravan of Pilgrims Miles in Length. Forty MEMORIES OF A FAR-OFF PAST. Baepap, April 14, 1870. The readers of the Hexaxp nosd not fear that this letter is simply a condensed summary of what Sir James Rich and the score or more of arch- eologists who have succeeded him in that par- tioular field of research have written about the remains of Babylon. These gentlemen have, no doubt, done good service to the world of letters by settling satisfactorily what the various mounds of earth were—which one was the Palace of Semiramis and which the Tower of Belus— but the accounts they have published of their labors are altogether too profound for the general reader, and in an abbreviated form would probably be wholly unintelligible. It is quite possible, how- ever, to visit the remains of Babylon, and to get interested in them, without speoding years of la- borin perfectly mastering their antiquarian ag- pects. Ihave just returned from a journey to the mounds and shall give a plain, unvarnished ac- count of what I have seen. Perhaps I shall say more about how I got to Babylon and how I got back to Bagdad than about the ruins [went to see. And it I do, it will probably be because, to the general traveller, the ruins are ofvery little interest. They appeal no doubt, very strikingly to the imagination, but are in themselves neither im- posing, nor beautiful. Most people who come here to make a _ pilgrimage to Baby- lon, do so indeed for the same reason that they visit a coal mine, not because they want to see it, but because they wish to be able to say trutbfully that they have seen it. And just at the present time it is, perhaps, well that it should be clearly stated what there is to see at Babylon; for, if Mejid Pacha is neither deposed by the Saltan nor poisoned nor murdered by the Nakeeb, the railroad to Kerbela, passing within a couple of hours’ ride of Babylon, will be constructed in the course of the next two or three years, while an English engineer is at the present moment making an examination of the country with the view of deciding whether the Euphrates River Railroad; which is an inevitable certainty of the near future, had better follow the right or the left bank of the Euphrates. When these railroads are built the remains of Babylon will be as accessible as St. Petersburg or Jerusalem. Thirty-six hours’ Journey in a railroad car will carry the tra- veller from Alexandretta to the site of the ruins. And then, of course, there will be a travel- ler’s handbook to the antiguities of Babylonia, and the place will be infested with dragomans, speaking many tongues and skilled in every possi- bility of extortion. ‘ HOW TO GET TO THE RUINS. Bagdad is the natural point of departure for the pilgrim to Babylon, and to get to Bagdad is now not very difficult, as there isa steamship line—two of them, indeed—from Bombay. The site of the ruins begins at a point about fifty miles southwest of the city of the Caliphs and ex:ends through the town of Hillah to the Birs Nemrood, some eight or nine miles beyond it. To get over these last seventy miles is not by any means 50 easy as to come from Bombay to Bagdad; there is no particular danger to be encountered—no danger, that is to say, that a well armed Enropean need fear—but no small amount of discomfort and annoyance and “‘disagreeables” of various descrip- tions has to be cheerfully endured. The trip must, of course, be made on horseback, for never, even in the palmy days ot Haroun Al Raschid, has a wheeled conveyance been seen in apy part of what is now the pashalic of Bagdad, nor are there at the present time two consecative miles of road in the whole district over which the strongest of buggies could be drawn with un- broken springs. And it is no simple matter to get horses for the trip. Horses, asses, mules, camels, each and all can be hired in the baazar by the score, but there are few animals indeed that a man of Caucasian instincts would care to take so long a journey. Of course one would prefer horses, anda hintto a servant that you wish to hire a couple—one for yourself and one for your’ guide—will bring 9 dozen candidates for your pat- ronage before you; but they will all be of one kind— sorry, ill-conditioned, sore-backed, girth-galled, spavined, broken-winded brutes—the kidish, or hired horse of the country. Despise them not, however; they are the best you can get, thoy will cost you only seventy-five cents a day, end, w iy more, bad as they are, they will not break down on the road. § “MY GUIDE. For a guide lengaged a Christian Bagdac named Elias, who was supposed to speak English, but who really knew little more than yes and no, and the coarser components of the vocabulary of Anglo-Saxon invective. But he had been a couple of years in the service of a European and was pretty well acquainted with civilized manners and customs. In appearance he was decidedly un- prepossessing, his countenance being scarred in half a dozen places with the “boutons” or “date marks” of Bagdad, wiile he squinted hideously. His dress, too, added to the picturesque ugliness of his appearance. A kefeer, or huge handker- chief, of startling hues, was bound round his head by a yard or 80 of brown woollen yarn; his tunic of colored cotton, fitting pretty closely to the body, was confined at the waist by a belt, in which were stuck a couple of huge Arab pistols, @ foot and a half long, and with flint locks, to- gether with a Jarge carved dagger, witha hilt of chased silver; and joose blue cotton zouave pantaloons, with pair of riding boots many sizes too big, completed his costume. Sometimes, however, during the colder hours of the day, an Arab cloak, striped black and white was thrown over his shoulders, which enhanced the brigand-like terrors of his make-up. As & guide and general attendant Elias was compara- tively useless, but he was always good tempered and did the best he knew how, and in Bagdad no better cicerone is procurable. The era of the dragomans las not yet been inaugurated, A PICTURESQUE OCAVALCADE. Having secured two such horses, and such & guide as I have now described we began to make the necessary preparations for the journey—no wmall task ina country where one has to carry with him his own bed, furniture, kitchen utensils, aud most of what he wishes to cat. Just think of the hundred and one things necessary under these circumstances for a trip of five days, even fora traveller of the most simple habits. But at last, all things being ready, at daybreak we rode out of the courtyard of the Khan, a picturesque cav- alcade. First, your correspondent, looking very much ashamed of the Rosinante he bestrode; then ¥lias, perched on the top of a couple of mat- tresses, with # pair of fat saddlebags in front and & roll of blankets behind, and frying pan and kettle and tin cups hanging from such pro- jeoting corners as were available; and last, at fe respectful distance, thy owner of the 20 a | take care of his horses, and of doing this, more: over, at my expense. horses we bad hired. but to submit with a good grace? way things are done at Bagdad, ¥ROM BAGDAD TO HILLAH, Having cleared the date gardens of Bagdad ao hour's ride brought us to Khur, @ small tribu- ia drawn by ropes from one bank to the other. one sees until he gets to Hillah, a distance o! nearly sixty miles. the country from Khur to Hillah, reach. No tree,no shrab of any kind, broke the monotony of the outlook, and very rarely in- of the ground in scanty scattered tufts of three or four sickly spikes each, meet the view. and behind there was ever the same dreary reach of beaten tracks, with a khan or caravanserai, low-walled and unpromising, looming up at inter- vals of ten or twelve miles, Here and there one came upon asstagnant pool of water, the haunt of long-billed bitterns, and occasionally a vulture or two, or a flock of wild geese, or perhaps a couple of partridges or francolains challenged notice. But for miles together, apart from the stream of travellers passing along the road, there was no- thing whatever to be seen except a dead level of barren desert, at almost bewildered one by its uniformity of ab: ve sterility. MUSSULMAN MAJEES. Fortunately tor the wayfar however, this road bappens to be the main line of communica- 3. tion between Bagdad and Meshed Hussein, or Kerbela, for more than two-thirds of the way to Hillah, and all through the year, winter and sum- mer alike, a constant stream of ‘‘hajees,” or pil- grims, to the shrine of the sainted the Prophet flows along this channel. Most of the pilgrims are Persians, with high conical hats of coarse felt; but no country in the Mussulman world is left unrepresented in the throng. Side by side, compagnons de voyage in the self-same party, may be seen a Malay from Java or the Spice Islands, a negro prince from the heart of Central Africa, and an Indian nawab—each attired in bis national dress—tbis one chewing betel, that one smoking sebeel, the third munch- ing an Arab sweetmeat. The number of the hajees is legion ; for forty miles the various cara- vans form & continuous, though somewhat strag- ging, line of travellers. As a spectacle, ne pro- cession to an American eye could be more strik- ing. ‘The strange costumes, the curious retinues, the unfamiliar means of travelling, impress one very vividly. Here 2 pious sage jogging steadily along on @ white ass, audibly conning the Koran; there a young man in vestments of silk and gold embroidered cloth, a jewelled dagger in his belt and a chain of pearls and golden beads flung round his neck—some near relation, probably, of the Khan of Bokhara or K) followed by a numer- ous company of splendidly attired dependents, among.them, perhaps, a couple of negro slavé eunuchs; next an old man, shaking with disease, plodding paintally forward on a mule, and kept alive only by the hope’ that he may die at the shrine ‘to which two days more will, Inshallah! bring him; again, a fakeer or dervish limping along ou foot, clad in rags, with long, dis- ordered beard and a wild look 1m his eyes, sadly suggestive of insanity, fanaticism, disease and privation. These are the more conspicuous cle- ments of the crowd. The general run of pilgrims are, of course, less interesting, though they are scarcely less picturesque. Most of them ride upon mules, the head of the family seated on tne top of the baggage upon one, while his two wives follow behind, caged in wooden frames, upon the back of another. Donkeys are the next favorite beast of burden; then come horses, with large native pack saddies, and there are a few camels. The rate of travel is never pushed beyond a walk, and the day’s journey of the Bible, twenty miles, is still with these people the average standard of progress. Everything, indeed, connected with the pilgrimage is conducted on 4 very leisurely daa these pious people are never in a burry ; ey say their prayers aud smoke and read the Koran, and cook and eat in a way so provokingly indolent ag almost to rouse the indignation of a Caucasian.» One reflection, however, more than all, is pressed foreibly upon the notice of an American spectator—that this long procession is buta copy of w.at the companies of pilgrims and holy palmers, journeying to aud from Rome and the ‘oly Land in those old, mediwval days of European superstition and Hey must be looked like. Ambling past the long line of hajees he may imagive himself for the nonce a contem- orary of St. Bernard or Peter the Hermit. And ooking at the healthy faces and stalwart forms ofthese modern pilgrims one begins to wonder whether the discontinuance of pilgrimages is not agrand wistuke. The Mussulman, enfecbled by excesses or debilitated by over-work, seeks health at the shrine of Hussein, and in a journey of perhaps four or five months in the open air finds whathe seeks. Let us suppose the most hopeless of dyspepties going through a similar course of pious regimen—journeying, say, from Paris to Jerusalem on horseback, eating but one meal a day, and thata mess of rice or lentels, in- nocent of meat, and washed down with simple water. Surely Heaven would be as 1 to the Christian as it is to theMoslem and reward him with a perfect restoration of hig digestive organs. OUR KHAN, — "SP Thanks to the piety of bygone times, khans have beet “erected a ! re frequented the hajees, th vailable, of course, for ordinary travell: 20, We breakfasted in one somewhere near midday, after twenty-five miles of oar journey had been ymplished, and then pushed on for our inten halting place for the night—Mahaville Khan—from the top of which the mounds of Bapylon inay be seen. If J had spac I might here tell how we missed our way, how trying to find it the horse of my guide Elias, with all the baggage, irying pan, kettle, &c., included, tumbled into a ditch ten feet deep; how we bad to follow the course of the ditch, two or three miles, before we could get him np again; how, at last, we got him up on the wrong side, aud how, finally, it got to be quite dark before we reached the khan; and, to our dismay, when we at last arrived there, we found it occupied by a regiment of soldiers, on their way from Hillah to Bagdad. We were told at first that all the chambers of 1! khan were occupied by. the women of the ¥ ment; but Inckily, a Polish gentleman, surgeon to the troops, happened to esp 3, and after we had exchanged a few words in rench he found us @ vacant cell, and, further, invited me to dinner. Perhaps sore intending pilgrim to Babylon ma wish to know what we had to eat. Well, we had some soup, broiled chicken, buttermilk, native Tioual (slapjack ropean residents of Bagdad prota it), goats’ milk, cheese, onions, arr: aud sweetmeats. By no meane an unwel ast after a fifty miles’ jolt at a slow trot over a aud road. A khan has been often described. All over the Rast they are much the same. This partieniar khan, however, is excepti6ually good. Jt is a by quadrangle, with « double row of chambers, open on one aide, runt all round it, In the court- e of fountains and various t tho gate there isa small store, where provisions, firewood, barley and straw are sold at very reasonable rates. No charge is made for lodging, but a generous trav- eller is expected to give baksheesh to the man who sweeps out his cell and makes his fire. On this road every khan is garrisoned with a few sol- diers, owing to the unsettled and dangerous char- acter of the country, and at sunset the gate is closed with rigorous exactitude, while a watch is kept all through the night. In summer, no doubt, these serais are very comfortable; but at the present season—early spring—when even Turkish Arabia is cold, one is very apt to wake up in the morning, as I did, with a severe cold. Expe- rienced natives always sleep in the winter in the inner ring of cells, where the horses and cattle are quartered, and the heat generated by the ani- mals keeps them warm. But Anglo-Saxons have an unfortunate objection to animal heat—an ob- jection shared by your correspondent. THE LIMJELLIBE. Early next morning we were again in the sad- dle, and, taking an old Arab, who hangs about the khan, as guide, we made the best of our way to the mounda. ng NEW YORK HERALD, SUNDAY, horses, dirty and ragged, and mounted on the bare back of @ rough-coated two year old colt. ‘This latter addition to our party wae wholly un- expected; but at the last moment he appeared’ and annoonced his intention of going with us to If I did not care to let him 0 and to pay for thy horse he rode he would not carry out his contract to let us have the two And what course remained That is the tary of the Tigris, cros#ed by a ferryboat, which ‘There is here a good sized Arab village, the last No words, indeed, can oon- vey an adequate idea of the utter desolation of Hour after hour we jogged wearily on, along a road worn, partly by the rains and partly by passing traffic, into a score or more of huge ruts, scarcely as wide as a bridle path, but deep enough for a smail ditch. Oo either side of usa bare expanse of dark brown earth stretched as far as the eye could deed did a patch of withered graes, cropping out In front randson of Crossing a little bridge, erected over a small but deep river, the vestige, perhaps, of some ancient canal, we ascended @ gradual slope, and on reaching its crest obtained a first AUGUST 7, 1870.—TRIPLE SHEET. view of what remains of Babylon. Looking over a vast plain, nearly flat, strevching as far as the eye could reach, our gaze was met in many direc- ne by evidently artificial mounds. Here long, Tow lincs of earth, the remains of an ancient cana', ran along for a quarter or half a mile, gradually sinking to the ordinary level. In other places vast heaps of earth, reminding one somewhat peng 4 of the hills about Auburn, N. Y., except that these latier are covered with grass, above the plain. And now, for the first time since leaving Khur, one begins to see signs of a fertile soil. There is @ little pasture and a few shrubs to be met with; and the prospect in this respect improves every mile one advances. After about an hour we struck away from the main road, and, passing through , | an immense dry diteh, we came to a huge mound . | of bricks. ‘The rains of 3,000 years had worn the outer walls of this immense pile into a debris of bricks and earth, which forms a sort of . | gradual approach to the top of the mound, marked by channels through which the rains of the present run. In exteut the mound is some sixty or seventy yards square. Its base is covered with fragments of brick and pottery. Ascending the summit the visitor finds himself standing amid a waste of broken bricks. The surface of the top of the mound is extromely irregular, here rising in a square pile of bricks, and again sinking into ahole of earth, filled with stagnant water. On one side of this vast ruin the Arabs are now exca- vating the bricks for the construction of new houses in Hillah; but though they have thus ene yea themselves for many years they have as yet made no, appreciate impression upon tho mound. ‘The bricks are large and flat, a foot long, three-quarters of a foot wide, but only three or four inches deep, Some of them are burnt, others simply baked in the sun. In building with the latter the Babylonians seem to have placed a layer of rushes and straw between every few layers of bricks, and the mark of the reeds is still fresh upon the bricks. Happening to pluck out some of the straw, the kidish I was leading made a snatch at it and ate it as eagerly as though it had been garnered yesterday. Antiques in the shape of prvery and coins have been found in this mound, ut not to apy very great extent. I ought already to have said ‘that this ruin is known as the Little Limjeliibe. f GENERAL REFLECTIONS. Before leaving this mound one ought to take a good look from its summit at the country round about. The orthodox idea of Babyion is of a deso- late waste, ‘‘a possession of the bitterns and pools of water.” That is what the Hebrew pro- phet wished to see it, no doubt, aud, so far as the greater ther of Southern Mesopotamia is con- cerned, the prophecy holds good, But, viewing the land immediately about the old city of Baby- lon, it is impossible not to see that some vestige of the vitality of the grand old city still lingers about its site, reluctant apparently to entirely desert it. Hillah, which must have been about the centre of Babylon, is a flourishing little city of 10,000 inhabitants, surrounded by date gardens and area an appearance of prosperity and wealth quite exceptional in the pashalic of Bagdad. One of the principal mounds, the Jargest in fact—-the Amran—is encircled by gar- dens and houses. And, looking from the summit of the Limjellibe, one sees the banks of the Euphrates still fringed, as they were in the time of Nebuchadnezzar, with graceful trees and cov- ered with green fae Perhaps one sees also a man dropping a bucket by a long rope into the river to draw water for his household, just as men were woot to doin that far off time, while the plashing of the falling drops mingles pleasantly now, a8 it did then, with the laughter of a crowd of playing children. So far from its being a “howling wilderness’? the site of ancient Babylon is an oasis in the desert, a bright spot in a desolate and abandoned land. Let those who doubt what is here stated come and see for themseives. They will find that instead of being the home of lynxes and jackals, of hyenas and bitterns, of bats and earrion birds, Hillah is, for Turkey, o very coin- fortable place indeed to stay in. THE AMRAN. Half a mile from the Limjellibe, and close to the banks of the river, is another mound, larger, though scarcely so high--the Amran. This mound boasts the possession of two especial an- tiquities. The first cypress tree, dead and withered, but still !y.rooted in the earth. It is situated at th op of the mound, and is asserted by tradition to be 3,000 yeara old, to have been gr and flourishing-——that is, when the old city wasin the zenith of her grandeur. The second isa huge stone lion, which some en- thusiastic Englishmen have on two several occa- sions attempted to carry away; but, owing to its bulk, without success. It is now half buried in the ground. Itis about ten feet long by six feet in height. The carving is of the roughest, and it is somewhat doubtful whether the lion is sup- posed to have six legs, or whether what might be taken for the two surplus members is nota vic- tim struggling in its paws. The Turks thought the Giaours wanted the figure becanse it tained some treasure and jewels, and they have the lves blown off half the head by blasting in searching for this hidden hoard. The Amran is also the site of two small Moslem tombs of no great importance. In other respe tis simply what the Limjellibe is also--a shapeless mound ef old br’ Thave already said that Hillah is a flourishing little city; but it is as perhaps, to add that | it isa telegraph station and that a steamboat makes some not very regular trips between it | and Bnssorah. The people, too, ception- ally enlightened and tolerant; a Giaour is, in fact, made litile more of than a Moslem. But I have ny aecaunt ofa most hospitable 1 the Has. representative ted. reception with w) at Babylon was gr THE BIRS NEMROUD, After a day’s rest in Hillah, l set out to visit the Birs Nemroud, the largest and most important of all that remaii cient Babylon. This ruin is jas the crow flies, but a river only fordable in the dryest of seasons, gene- rally forees the traveller to a detour involy- ing’ an additional three miles. Although so near to Hillah, the road out is very unsafe, as the Shammar Bedouins range close up to the ruins and are very apt to snap up a siranger somewhat rudely. {was therefore provi With an escort of a couple of soldiers, who ¢ ly looked very ternble fellows, with their immense pistols and huge curved sabres. But iam afraid they were more cautious than courageous, as they asked everybody we met on the way, and somewhat nervously, if they had seen any Bedonins. However, no mishap occurred to us; fromthe top of the Birs we did indeed see in the distance the bla ents of the children of the d but we wer y far out of their ken. 2 As soonas we hh nd the town, passing over a bridge of boats, whieh is ¢ the oraziest, shakiest, and most unaefe stractu ’ er the kind in existouce, we came in sight of Birs, the reputed Tower of el, It appear , | to be simply a slender pile of buil , standing up om a conical monnd, At so » it seemed, of course, very small, but it was evidently the most conspicuous feature in the landscape. When one gets up to it it is impossible aot to be greatly impressed with its immense oxtent. There are two mounds, one amere mass of crumbled brick »whed with a Hoslem mosque, and the other the Birs. Ti ter is almost entirely built of burned bri one immense block of solid brickwork tc from the top of the mound to a hei of perhaps a hundred and eighty feet from the level of the plain. Lightning has riven this huge mass into two; bot the crack is only about a foot wide. Th most curious sight at the Birs are some large blocks welded together by lightning into 8c us hard as stone. The A s immortalized itself her names in the most. conspicuons pe ch i Tower of Babel or the Ter : of Belus—an' ians have yet to decide which. great a distance it VISIONS OF THE PAST, mjellibe, the Amran and the Birs Nem- ly ruivs of importance to be it mast be confessed that, they are scarcely a long journey. But although I have reframed from indulging much in «a sentimental vein it can readily be believed that most of the plea- sure to be derived from a visit to Babylon lies in the capacity of the pilgrim to repeople the plain in faney with its former inhabitants; to watch again in imagination the stream of Babylonian life flowing through the stately streets of the old city. Standing on the Lim, » a man tolerably familiar with Asiatic arclitectare, aided by what he knows of Babylon, tinds little difficulty in whiling away a few hours in # pleasant day dream of what the past was like. Here flowed the Great Canal; there, far in the distance, glittered the golden cupola of the Temple of Lelus; close by stood the palace of the Great King. And these points known, it is easy to fill ap the intervening spaces with square, mud-walled, flat-roofed houses, surrounded by pleasant gardens, with now and then a cluster of thatch huts, the dwell- lings of the Babylonian poor. It is not likely thet Babylon, splendid ag she is reported to have been, was very different from the Arab cities of the pre- sent. Aman who has seen Delhi and Bagdad, Bassorah and Mosul, will not be very wrong in his imaginative picturings of the old city, AN ADVENTURE. Coming back from Hillah we had something al- most approaching en adventure. The road is very unsafe, being infested with Arabs. These gentlemen, however, rarely stop Europeans, owing to the salutary fear inspired by the eix- | hooters, When we reached Mahaville Khan it Me roud at Babylon, ar in themselves, | persing $3 uot deserving of commendation. was about three o'clock in the afternoon and the peeps of the serai warned us not to go forward, nty two days ago, they said, four men had been robbed of their horses and baggage, stripped per- fecily n«ked and turned away to wake their way as best they could to the Kian. And the day previous a jight had taken place between astray party of hajees and a band of Bedouins, ove of ne larter being killed in the struggle. But we decided to 5 on, and, emboldened by our hardi- hood, two dadees, travelling on foot, said that they too would acoompavy us, though we warned them that we should & rough ata gallop. Of course, after running bravely on by the side of onr horses for ree or four miles, they bad to fall in the rear and we lost sight of them. A iittte while after an armed Arab, with long lance aud huge pisto's, rode up to us, but scrutinizing us closely he de- termined not to accept the odds of two to one, and saying ‘‘Marhaba,” passed on. It seems, how- ever, that subsequently he met the two bagda- dees. Both of them were armed to the tecth with pistols and gun and dagger and club, One of th m stood hia ground and detied the bandit, but the other ran away and hid in a ditch. The one who stood his ground was allowed to pass; but the Bedouin subsequently caught the one who fled and despoiled him of his weapons, his money and nearly all his clothes. Late in the evening the poor wretch sneaked into the Khan, almost naked and utterly miserable. He tried to skulk away to a quiet corner, among the horses; Lut everybody in the Khan had been awaiting his arrival, and he was greeted with a volley of taunts and sneers, After upbraiding him for his coward- ice, however, his former companion gave him porns footy and the man of the ‘Khan gave him an old cloak, _ LITERATURE. Criticisms of New Books. A HisroricaL ACCOUNT OF THE NEUTRALITY OF GREAT BRITAIN DURING THE AMERICAN CIVIL War, By. Montague Bernard, M. A. London: Longmans, Green, Realer & Dyer. Asacontrivution to the history of international jaw, which the author claims it to be, this book is of some value. To Englishmen the position assumed by the author in his discussion of whe great question of neutrality, which is the one present source of trouble between the United States and Great Britain, will doubtless mee: with general approtal. And un- doubtedly Mr. Bernard argues with some force in de- fence of, or, we might more appropriately say, In apology for, that line of policy pur- sued towards us by Great Britain durmg the rebellion which led to the Alabama escaping from England and depredating on our commerce. But we must, as Americans, dissent from nis concla- sions, The British government was influenced less from regard for the neutrality laws of tle empire than from a settled bellet that the destruction of the United States commerce, as well as their govern- ment, was a something beneficial to the interests of Great Britain and consequently desirable. We ad- mit much that Mr. Bernard says in this book regard- ing the unfriendliness of otser Powers. Undoubt- edly France, Spain, the Netherlands, and, to cut the matter short, most of the European Powers were in- spired by anything but friendly considerations for us. It so, happened, however, that from the un- friendliness of Great Britain alone were we sub- Jected to any material injury. Nations cannot claim damages from each other because of moral support or encouragement extended to their enemies, Had the aid given by Great Britain to the Confederates been purely moral, we should have forgiven it by this time. Of course we do not expect Mr. Bernard to view this subject as we see it, Neither do we expect many English- men to differ from him, Americans, however, with but isolated exceptions, can never be brought to re- gard the action of Great Britain during our rebellion as other than one-sided and unfriendly towards the United States and as other than in violation of international law. While saying this we must admit the interest we have felt in the perusal of the work before us. Mr. Bernard’s arguments are clear and concise. We have formed from them a better idea of what Englishmen think on the important sub- ject treated than we could obtain from alt of Earl Russell’s, Lord Stanley's and Lord Clarendon’s wordy correspondence. ‘funk Ros Roy ON THE JORDAN, &c. A Canoe Oruise in Palestine and Egypt and the Waters of Damascus. By J. Macgregor, M. A. New York: Harper & Brothers, One seldom finds a more entertaining book than this. The original and eccentric mode of travelling adopted by the author, his ludicrous, and some- times ridiculous adventures, and the pleasant, racy style in which he writes impart to these pages a verit- able alr of romance, As the title implies, Mr. Mac- gregor made voyages on the rivera Jordan and Nile, on the Red Sea, &c., in a@ canoe named the Rob Roy. And his travels in this vessel must nave been thoroughly enjoyable, for his narrative of them is excepuonably interesting. Possessed of a keen sense of the humorous, Mr. Macgregor does not forget to record everything that happened in any sense ludi- crous, Naturally, this humor adds to the charm of the book, which we heartlly recommend to the pub- lic, Those readers of Harper's Monthly who have read “The Rob Roy on the Jordan,” while it was passing through the pages of that magazine, will, we feel assured, unite with us in this recommenda- ton of one of the most delightful publications of the season, -d THE MYSTERIES AND ORIMES oF By J. H. Beacie, Natioual Publsh- BY MORMONIS M. jng Company, Philadelphia, We have a nervous horror of books that deal in the “mysteries and erime: of places and people; and we are always suspicious of works “issued by subscription only.” Why it should be so we cannot teil, but ic is certain that three-fourths of these “by subscription” publications bear a wonderful re- semblance to each other in point of paper, printing, pinding aud ilustration. Shoddy stares us in the face from their pages. “Life in Utah’? 1s no excep- fion to the rule, Written by the “editor of the Salt Lake Reporter,” tt is interesting enough, although it doea not contain anything very new or startling, ‘There is the nsual Genunciation of Brigham Young. ‘The oid charges of cyimes are brought against ue Mormons. In fact, the book is juat such an one as willenoble th reader to wiile away a few leisure hours without receiving other benefit from its perusal, a sketch of Mis Life and Works, New York. G. #. Putnam & CHARLES DICK EN By WB. Perkins. sons. It was not possible in the brief period of time after his death in which this book was written and pub- lished to prepare a good biography of Dickens, We ace pot aware that Mr. Perkins bad at hand material ample enough to give us such @ history of the Ufe of the great novelist a3 the public demands. As a conse- quence of haste and scant materiais the author has produced asomewhat slovenly written work, abound- ing in extraneous matter and marked by the absence of numerons facts known to the public, It must be sald, however, that the book 1s readable enough; but Sts demerits are,so glaring thet we cannot praise 1f, ‘The best part of if is the translation at the end of Taine's analysis of Dickens ag an anthor. But we repeat that the biography written by Mr. Occa- stonally the style is ridiculously inflated. In one page the writer speaks of an ‘enormous wave of di- abolical tntensification,” which 1s big, but if gives o8 no Idea whatever as to what Kind of wave it was. On the whole, we believe that the biography of Dick- ens has yet to be written, RamBnes iN Cuna is the title of a neatly printed and bound volume, published by Carleton, of this city. The contents are quite tmteresting. They are chatty and lively, and give one a tolerably clear taca of social life in the Ever Faithful Isle, At the end of the volume is # brief sketch of a trip to Nassau, which is also quite readabie. Who 1s ANTICHRIST? Rey. R. C. Shimeali, a pro- phet of the first class, answers that question, “Napoleonism Unveiled’? (New York: Brinckerhow & Co.) telis the story. It is Napoleon III. of course. He is to ——; butit will never do to repeat here all that Mr. Shimeall writes. If any of our readers are curious to know if Louis Napoleon is the destined ruler of Europe and the Antichrist, let him or her THE UnILD’s SPEAKER is a collection of pieces for recital in primary schools, compiled by Charles Northend, and published by A. S. Barnes & Co., of this city. Although we have not had the time to ex- amine the litile book carefully a cursory glance at the contents cnables ug to speak favorably of the collection. PARIS PASHIONS. Demoralization by the War—French Oaths and Rural Exeitements—Farewell to \ Love for Duty—A Glance at the Toi- lets—Chintz Material— Hats, Bon- nets, Petticoats and Boots— French Robes at Windsor Castle—Paris Really , Revolationized. Panis, July 20, 1870, The following is the wording of the telegram from Doroughty and which was placed in my handsa few moments afver Mile, Dominique’s fashionable communications had been interrupted, as I explained in my last:—“Sly rogne; € ‘har- mettes a nice nest, eh? Paris ablaze. War with Prussia. Take it easy; have written a martial fashions letter to Hxnaxp for you; signed it Guy. Can keep on comfortably; stop where you are; ditto with the three pretty girls. Sly rogue, eh ?”” I swore a terrible French oath and then an Eng- lish one, followed by a German third; then I pitched a chair right over the terrace and fell back on a garden bench, coaxing down the hair which nature has left on my head and wiping my damp forehead. The idea of his military hand- ling of the fashions! Then his periidious insinua- tion! Hadn’t I been kidnapped to Charmettes through his wily manwuyre? and J was to take it easy! Mile. Dominique had been so alarmed at my French oath that she ran away ; at my second the young dragoon looked offended, and walked off also. I had not yet recovered my usual equanimity when Mile. Dominique returned, quite out of breath, attended by Mile. Angelique, ‘*A sudden commotion and attack of the bram; thank God!” ejaculated this sweet, mercifa! sister, kneeling by my side and placing her soft hand on my forchead. “As I just said to the cur®,” she went on, ‘Provi- dence has ways which are not ours for reclaim- ing the sinner: fits, attacks, cerebral conges- tions.” “Nonsense,’’ said Mlle, Dominique, “it’s a com- motion of the telegram, not the brain ; for see, the Chevalier is laughing, and it is all over.” So lL truly was. Quiet Mile. Angelique was rapid- ly undoing my necktie, while lively Mile. Domi- nique was struck still by terror. Their ways were so different from what observation of their different characters had led mo to ex- pect that Iwas positively amused to find how we males are taken in whenever we fancy wo- men are going to act under any given circum- stance according to our calculations. “Dear Mile. Angelique,” I said, sitting up, “I wish I had time to be the victim of 8 commotion under your care; butI have not. The war with Prussia calls me back to Paris, and I must start by first night train.’” Pitying exclamations welcomed the announce- ment. “Dear Mile. Dominique,” I further continued, “J am sorry I alarmed you and the Marquis.”” Just then Mile. Imperia was hurrying to the rescue, in vain endeavor to keep up with the young dragoon’s strides, which paced on like a pair of compasses held by Napoleon over a map of the Rhine. The old Countess came hob- bling along behind. “Oh, Imperia!”” exclaimed Mlle. Dominique, ‘‘it is all true about the war, and Chevalier Guy is going away. He has been in such a fearful rage. Whoever would have thought that so placid a man could. “Placid men, my dear, are like a smouldering fasee in the bosom of dry, tinderous, nature, such as we have the crops now.” This was said rather shortly, and I could discern Mile. Imperia was vexed because I meant to leave to Charmettes, so Isaid I was very sorry I had this duty to fulfil. “Well,” said Mile. Imperia, clearing up, ‘you are quite right; we have all got to do our duty, and war will bring new duties on every one of us.” “But they will all be going, too,’’ said Mlle. Dominique piteously, looking at the tall dragoon, who turned his head aside aud awkwardly cropped the heads of some lovely flowers. “Ah, war is an awfal scourge,” put in the dow- ager Countess, who had now come up. ‘‘Not those that go, children, are to be pitiod; but those who remain behind thinking, fearing, in their safe homes—homes too snug and safe while the dear ones are fighting. Who is the man, girls, who wouldn't be a soldier when France is in danger? Are not all borne onward by the wings of patriotism, enthusiastic love of glory and advancement? All thirst for some dis- tinction won under the unfurled tri-color. This maddens their senses, blinds, intoxicates ; while sisters, mothers, widows, foresee the minor ago- nies—fever, weariness, hunger, wounds, despair. When the trumpet calls they fancy they already hear their brave boy sigh for the loving voice and hand—the faithful bosom. Oh, girls! war is an awful scourge; the bravest and best of your fathers perisned on the battle field,” The eye of the dragoon had kindled as much as that of the eloquent old lady while she uttered the above words. He now held the hilt of his sword and sung snatches of Alfred de Mnsset’s :— Nous avons en votre Rhin allemand, ia tenu dans notre verre, (We have had your German Rhine, we held it in our glass). Ot ie pee a passé passera bien Venfant. A child can follow the way his fathers went. “ Vivela France !° cried Mile. Dominique. | “Hnavant!” shouted Mile. Imperia. “ Dieu protege la Mrance #? echoed Mile. Auge- liqne. ty Berlin,” chimed in the cure standing at the library window and waving bis skullcap. This family manifestation is the last incident 1 can record of Charmettes. An hour later I was steaming on to Paris, and at every station we came to echoes of distant shouts awoke the stillness of peaceful night. Through the trees shone glim- meriog candles joyfully going to and fro in village homes, and even the cornu fields waved their crested heads as if in response to the sturdy cries, “It is war,” ‘we have it.” “Oh! plains of fair, rich Beauce,’’ 1 thought. Ob, thou plenteous gar- den of France, has not enough blood been shed along the Loire? As I looked out in the dark and discerned every now and then the outline of famed old Gothic piles, the history of the Middle Ages stood up before me. There frowned the prisons, there rose the fortresses and battlements, and involuntarily I, too, murmured Diew protege la France. But daylight dawned, and I remembered that Mile. Dominique had, on parting, thrust @ letter in my hand, with the assurance that it wonld amuse meon the way and post me in the newest femalo notions. J quote the passages, which I have since ascertained are perfectly reliable and correct. WHAT IS WORN. “You will never believe it, 1 am sure, Ninick (an abbreviation probably of Dominique), but at court mamma is wearing chintz costumes, and not only mamma, but every one. It is not thin chintz, but a kind of cretonne, with no glaze on it. The ground is buff, and there are brown flowers, pink, grec and other colored patterns, just like our edroom curtains and what the upholsterer makes up for chafr coverings when the tamily are out of town, Mamma says it is quite picturesque, for these chintz toilews are bunched up bebind and plaited and flounced and bordered and made up to look soubrette style. Mme. 1a Duchesse di Monchy reintroduced this old fashion. I know if I got on a chintz I should feel like neta ha face of my arithmetic master with a feather broom or of handing round cups of chocolate to the com- any. The hata worn with this lumber room attire are broad brimmed leghorns, another old fashioned piece of straw. Ilike this hat when one is dressed in muslin; but fancy it with chintzes! These hate are trimmed with a guaze scarf all round and flowers in front. I hope you will not faint, Nin- ick, when you see the other hata; they are such atrocious frights, all bent round at the brim and punched in at the head to look dovil-may-care or rustic, and they are trimmed with a lot of yellow. 1 Pagoda sleeves, and ogftn bogices with barquer Dehind and points in front, are other noverties$ renewed from the ancients. Mamma says it is so warm at St. Cloud that costumes are ge shorter, heels higher from the burning ground, and stockings opener than ever; but still ladies will wear velvet (black) petticoats under their white piques. As the evenings ate cool, cashmere shawls and bnrnouses are thrown on for strolls in the grounds. They are worked by hand in ail shades and with Indian patterns.’ FRENCH ROBES AT WINDSOR. The following is a description of a toilet worn by @ French aoe at Windsor. It was there seen by mamma's brother's wife's sister, and as the ice of Wales called it = eR in a subdued! whisper, we are sure to have it copied by the Empress’ tailor for the Russian princesses. It was white foulard, plaited from top to Fl and onder it another petticoat, blue and gold colored, of Algerian material; sbove the white a blouse of crepe de chine, worked all over with birds and flowers in dull, thick silk ; it was trim- med all round with moss fringe, buttoned down the front and looped behind with scarf knots and ends of the blue and gold Algerian tissye. A blue and gold bird of paradise in a nest of white lace, formed the hat. The jewelry was lapislezuli and heavy gold. Another magnificent dresa was rosy salmon, corded with maroon and trimmed with plaited muslin, ed ed with wide Valenciennes, This, worn by a beauty with an alabaster skin, ix simply adorable. Floss flowers on tulle are all the rage-—white jas- min on white, and pink carnations ou lemon. Ob! when shall | be out of school? When shall I in dulge, in ige cream and revel in tunios of flowered tulle No wore dress items, dear Ninick, but mamma says there is some gossip on the tepis about a Prince of Hohenzollern; only she was not clear concerning facts, as she heard it from a Spanith lady, who, for the sake of making one Prince's name easier, called him all the time Holophernes, which caused confusion, Mamma says the name of the Prince’s father is the quecrest she ever heard. I am to find out the history of his family from oor master of chronology, and tell her without delay. IN PARIS AGAIN. My first care on arriving at Paris was to drive to Dorougherty’s rooms; and what scenes all down the Boulevards! Was this the city I had left so calm, so bridled in by the police? Streams of men were sing- ing the ‘“Marseillaise;” lines of students were shouting, ‘A Berlin!” “A Berlina!” Every fiacre ‘was full of soldiers, and these were hailed, ‘De- fenders of the nation!” Every zouave or chasseur nimbly rushing to headquarters over the Seina was stopped and carried on by force to the next wise shop, where he had to have his health drank gratis. Meanwhile the sergeants de ville looked on with folded arms. Irubbed my eyes; it waa no dream. Instead of their usual “Ctrenlate, cir culate, Messieurs,”’ they brushed a tear from their eyes with the back of their large hands, Thera were old belts, old shoes, old straps and sack4 coming out of the windows, for the men wera packing and hurrying oif to the frontiers. The readiest came out in the street with the pretty pictures and bits of valuables which had Tickled their fancy on some feie day at some suburban’ fair, and these were being committed to the care of waiting frieuds, who promised to “keep it all safe for their return.” Yes, for their return, they said. Other4 were, two by two, carrying the low boxes whicls contain all a soldier’s worldly goods, to lnggag4 carts for immediate departure by goods tain. Sisters and pretty girls—modistes, mantua makers aud lingeres mostly—were walking up and down with that quick step which denotes the Parisienne and which wouldn’t falter now. All held small pamemonndies: in which their small gains wer oarded for some such @ day as this. Father were erties nameless gifts tied up in cotto handkerchiefs, and mothers ——, the mothers ah! there are scenes between sons going to war, and mothers warring where they stand, strug- gling, trampling emotion down—scenes whic! never can be written and still deserve the victor’ palm. AT court, ° This lasted for two hours, and then I sought on friends who are near the Emperor every day. His Majesty was well and joyful; the tailor had justi left who took the Prince Imperial’s measure fo: his campaign outfit. The Prisce was to be one o' his father’s staff, whose general quarters woul be Nancy. And the Empress? [asked. She hai just donated the sum of fifty thousand franes toi the wounded soldiers’ fund. and she had othe heroic plans in view. The world had yet to dis+ cover if Eugenie de Montijo was a futile woman and whether an act of heroism ever was abovd her. That morning she had acmired a phrase re4 ported by one of the papers to have been said by, a Spartan mother on handing to her son hia shield:—~‘'Come back with it or upon it.’’?—~ - CUBA. Communication from Generai Jordan—Contra+ diction of Press Stntemeats. New York, August 2, 1870, To rne Eprror oF THe HeRALD:— Some days ago the despatch of the Associated Press from Havana announced two things:— First—That Captain General De Rodas, having been offered reinforcements, declined any as aito- gether unnecessar, Second—That General Cornelio Porro nad beem slain by his countrymen for having shown a te Li to surrender to the Spantards, ‘The press despatch from Havana dated August: the papers of this city this moratag, gives a concln-; sive answer to the first transparent faisehood, for! it states that De Rodas has asked ior a reinforcemend of 14.000 men, in Which coinection | take occasion to} Say that that number would not replace the casualties which have occurred in the Spanish ranks in Cuba since Deceinber 1, 1869. 4 The answer to the other misstatement is a letter from General Porro to myself dated as late as tha 12th of July—a letter charactertstle of the he who wrote tt—hopeiul of the early independence of| his country. The despateh from Havana 1s characteristic of all from the same source. They are invariably falsa either in letter or spirit. Respectfully yours, THOMAS JORDAN, RUPTURE OF MATRIMOKIAL ALLIANCES, A Singular Case—A Main Seeks Two Divorces, {From the St. Louts Republican, August 3.) A slight diversity occurred yesterday in the mo~« notony of the numerous divorce cases which are being brought tn the Circult Court, On the 26th of Juy @ man named Charies Masscietein filed a suit for @ divorce from his wife, Mary Masscheicin, i r whoin he represented he was lawfully married i Milwaukee on the 1st of November, 1852. The lady vefore she Was married was Mary Vareuberg. ‘Tie husband states that he treatea her with extrem kindness, but that on the 7th of November—on week ufier their marriage—she abandoned and de: serted him. Jt appears that Masschelein be4 coming disconsolate at his virtual state o1 single biessedness, and thinking that nis firs wile was dead, determined to marry again, whic! he did on the 13th of May, 18s}, 1° St. Louis county. He continued to live with lis secon¢ wile until Saturday last. Yesterday Mr. 3. M. Tays lor, attorney, filed a petition on his’ behaif In which! Massche:ein asks to be divorced from her, lig charges her with crucl teatmeut and rendering hick condition intoierable. There were two clildre bora of the marriage—Oniette, eighi years, ai Alice, three years, He asks to have the custody of them. The Christian name of the defendant in the two cases 18 Mary, The iust petition had scarcely been filed when Mr. H. 3. O'Reilly appeared with &. Ren for divorce on the part of Mary Masscheleia 0. 2. He did not flie it, however, but determin to put in a cross vill. Yesterday, also, Emile Simen: skie tile sunilar petition for a divorce from he! husband, Julius The parties were uaited in matrt- mony at Donaldsonviile, La., on the 20th of Decems ber, 1853, Desertion on the ist of March, 1868, 1 alleged. Piaiaui prays that the guaely of their BL: chiidren may be awarded her, and that her matder name of Rewasehinskie be reatored to her. Jaches tian M. Baldwin is another appicant who, inno to be divorced, He was married on the Loth January, 1860, in the county of Henry, Li. He states that his wife, Laura O’Buidwin, conttaued to liv with ium until tae summer of the same year, When sue deserted him. — HORRIBLE SUICIDE AT AVONDALE, OHIG, A Shoemaker Blows Lis Brains Out. {From the Cincinnati Commercial, Angust 5 ae The usual quiet of Avondale was broken by a ter, “ide last evening. A shoemaker, nam: Renry Witzieben, aged forty-eight years, having ed his work, sought, as was hia custom, @ littl frolic and fun at a neighboring drinking saloon. Hi drank freely and left the saloon in @ drunken condt tion. In this state he wended his way to lis home, muttering meane threats to those he met, but wag: not answered until he arrived at what he called hi home, a place which bis debauchery had made den ol misery. fis ill-treated wife, who ha prepared his supper for him, persuaded hit io sit down and eat. AS he ate he beg abusing her, using the foulest language, warding her kindness with his horrid curs and her love with flendish threats. Having finishe: nis supper he staggered to his shop, followed by bi: wife, Who entreated him to return home and go bed, Her pleadings were of no avail, for, seizing a old musket which be had kept for the purpose of shooting birds, he put a load into it, and while doin, so in drunken accents asked his wife which shoul die first. Terrified at this speech and his actions Ui poor wife ran from the shop. She hai gone but short distance when she heard the report of the gute Instantly she retraced her steps and re-entered thé shop. only to ‘behold the mangled remains of her husband. He had placed the gun at the base of his right ear and had used his great toe to move thd trigger. The shot carried away the greater part of his head, and therefore life was soon extinct, Hi leaves a wife and four children, the youngest them Is only seven months oid, Tee