PILGRIMS IN THE DESERT. The long and circuitous journey from Europe to Jerusalem, by Constantinople, through Asia, frequently adopted by pilgrims in the earlier ages, was one of extraordinary toil and danger. After the occupation of Palestine by the Crusaders, it became comparatively an easy task to visit Jerusalem-the pilgrims had only to take shipping for one of the sea-ports; and it was for this reason, amongst others, that the Crusaders held so tenaciously the sea-coast of Palestine. When no longer masters of Jerusalem, they made Acre, which is about seventy miles distant from it, their capital. The fall of Acre was the final loss of the Holy Land. "A motive of avarice or fear," says Gibbon, "still opened the holy sepulchre to some devout and defenceless pilgrims, but a mournful and solitary silence prevailed along the coast which had so long resounded with the world's debate."

Extraordinary appearances every-where proclaim a land teeming with miracles; the burning sun, the towering eagle, the barren fig tree-all the poetry, all the pictures of scripture are here. Every name commemorates a mystery, every grot proclaims the past; every hill re-echoes the accents of a prophet. God himself has spoken in these regions; riven rocks, dried-up rivers, half-open sepulchres, attest the prodigy: the Desert still ap pears mute with terror, and you would imagine that it had never presumed to interrupt the silence since it heard the awful voice of the Eternal!"

But other travellers have shown that Judea, even now, after ages of war and neglect, is not all a rocky, barren country, whose natural sterility is aggravated by the hand of man. Messrs. Buckingham and Bankes were in raptures with the grandeur, the beauty, the fertility of the country eastward of the Jordan; and M. de Lamartine, who, in 1832, travelled from Bairout to Jerusalem, across Syria and Palestine, says, on entering the Holy Land, "It was not a land naked, rocky, and barren

Another route was to cross the sandy and generally sterile country which lies between Egypt and Palestine, and which constitutes a portion of the Great Desert of Egypt or Ara-a mingled heap of low, uncultivated mounbia. This desert extends as far into Palestine tains, as the land of promise had been painted as close to the walls of Jaffa (the ancient to us, on the faith of some misguided writers, Joppa,) the coast-line being covered with or a few travellers hastening with all speed sandy hills. The journey from Cairo to Jaffa to arrive at the holy city, and return; and is calculated as occupying from twelve to fif- who had only seen of the vast and varied doteen days. With proper care this journey, mains of the twelve tribes, the rocky route though attended with some privations, is not which led them, under a burning sun, from Jaffa a dangerous one. Indeed, Burckhardt says to Jerusalem. Deceived by these writers, I that accidents or misfortunes arising from the only expected to find what they described-a want of water, that most grievous of all ca- country of trifling extent, without any extenlamities in "a dry and thirsty land where no sive views, without valleys, without plains, water is," must, in general, “arise from a without trees, and without water. A country want of proper precaution." But Burckhardt dotted with grey or white hillocks, where the speaks as a hardy and seasoned traveller.-Arab robber conceals himself in the shade of the Cases must frequently arise in which the best ravines to plunder the passenger. Such may, precaution is defeated, or where the want of perhaps, be the road from Jaffa to Jerusalem; means prevents the operation of it to the ex-but such is not Judea, as we beheld it the first tent that is necessary. day from the summit of the hills which border Ptolemais-as we found it on the other side of the hills of Zebulon and Nazareth; at the foot of Mount Hermon or Mount Carmel-as we found it, indeed, in its entire breadth and in all its varieties, from the heights which command Tyre and Sidon to the lake of Tiberias; from Mount Theban to the hills of Samaria and Naplous; and from thence to the walls of Sion."

Pilgrims proceeding from Jaffa to Jerusalem, after having either crossed the Desert or landed from the Mediterranean, see little or nothing of that beauty or fertility which obtained for Canaan in ancient time the title of "a land flowing with milk and honey." But as this road was the common one, in fact, almost the only way of access which pilgrims had to Jerusalem, many were the efforts made to reconcile present appearances with past descriptions. M. de Chateaubriand, who travelled in Greece and Palestine in 1806 and 1807, thus exclaims:-" When you travel in Judea, the heart is at first filled with profound disgust: but when passing from solitude to solitude, boundless space opens before you, this disgust wears off by degrees, and you feel a secret awe, which, so far from depressing the soul, imparts life, and elevates the genius.

Robert the Monk,*" which arrived at Jaffa all who could make it convenient preferred, furnished the besiegers with provisions, still as the least addition to unavoidable evils, the they suffered as much as ever from thirst.- || perils of the Mediterranean to the long So great was the drought during the siege, journey by land. Chateaubriand went from that the soldiers dug holes in the ground, and Constantinople to Jaffa in a vessel in which pressed the damp clods to their lips; they were about 200 pilgrims of the Greek Church, licked the stones wet with dew; they drank men, women, and children; he describes the putrid water which had stood in the fresh them as having been merry enough during hides of buffaloes and other animals, and the voyage, though easily alarmed at the many abstained from eating, in the hope of slightest appearance of a gale. But Dr. mitigating by hunger the pangs of thirst." Richardson, who, in 1817, with Lord and This event supplied Tasso with the origin of Lady Belmore, &c., crossed the Desert from a description, which Chateaubriand considers Cairo to Jaffa, on their way to Jerusalem, the most exquisite passage of the "Jerusalem describes the sufferings endured by some Delivered." "Here," he says, "Tasso equals poor pilgrims, who had joined their party for Homer and Virgil. It is a highly finished protection:-"The poor pilgrims, who were piece of composition, and is distinguished by travelling with a small quantity of water, an energy and purity of style, in which the and anxious to husband it lest accident should other parts of the work are sometimes defi- detain us longer in the Desert than we excient. The reader will find this passage of pected, or who carried no flask along with Tasso's quoted in part in the 'Pictorial Bible,' them, and had kept up with us a great way in illustration of the 14th chapter of Jeremi- ahead of the camels, came toiling up with ah-itself a vivid and startling picture of the parched lips, flushed face, and turgid eyes, effects of drought, though not clothed in that like to start from their sockets, and begged, grand and poetic imagery in which other in- if we had any water, to give them a little to spired poets allude, throughout the Bible, to cool their mouths. It was impossible to be similar calamities. Thus does old Fairfax deaf to such a request, however much we make Tasso speak- we quote three stanzas might wish to husband our store; and yet from the 13th book:there was no cause for apprehension, for we had more than enough: but under the idea that it would fall short, even those of the party who might be considered as the best entitled to indulge, had we been on short allowance, obstinately held out; and though pressed, and really in want of it, denied themselves the gratification, lest a urgent period should arrive, when a drop of water would be called for as if to save a life. Often have I seen the flask of water pushed away by the hand when I well knew the parched throat required its quenching aid. It was impossible to see and not to admire the feeling and spirit that dictated the resolution, or ever to forget the countenance that spoke the need of the beverage that the hand put by."

"The sturdy bodies of the warriors strong,

Whom neither marching far, nor tedious way,
Nor weighty arms, which, on their shoulders hong,
Could weary make, nor death itself dismay;
Now, weak and feeble, cast their limbs along,
Unwieldly burdens on the burned clay;
And in each vein a smould'ring fire there dwelt,
Which dried their flesh, and solid bones did melt.

"Languish'd the steed, late fierce, and proffered grass
His fodder erst, despised, and from him kest;
Each step he stumbled, and, which lofty was
And high advanced before, now fell his crest;
His conquests gotten, all forgotten pass,

Nor with desire of glory swelled his breast;
The spoils won from his foe, his late rewards,
He now neglects, despises; naught regards.
"Languish'd the faithful dog, and wonted care

Of his dear lord and cabin-both forgot!
Panting he laid, and gathered fresher air,

To cool the burning in his entrails hot;
But breathing-which wise nature did prepare
To 'suage the stomach's heat-now booted not,
For little ease, (alas !) small help they win
That breathe forth air, and scalding fire draw in!"

more

It is unnecessary, on the present occasion, to make large extracts from travellers, respecting their sufferings when unable to obtain water. An eastern traveller has described what his own sensations were, both under the want, and in obtaining the means, of quenching his thirst. We will only add the description which the traveller, who writes under the assumed name of Ali Bey, gives of the effects of thirst on the body :-"This attact of thirst is perceived all of a sudden by an extreme aridity of the skin, the eyes appear to be bloody, the tongue and mouth both inside and outside are covered with a crust of the thickness of a crown piece; this crust is of a dark Pil-yellow colour, of an insipid taste, and of a

If such were the dangers and privations to which, at times, all pilgrims were exposed in Judea, whether they came on their way to Jerusalem to Jaffa by sea, or by crossing the Desert from Egypt, we cannot wonder that

* Robert's account is abridged in Purchas's " grims."

consistence like the soft wax from a bee-hive.

A faintness or langor takes away the power to move; a kind of knot in the throat and diaphragm, attended with great pain, interrupts respiration. Some wandering tears escape from the eyes, and at last the sufferer drops down to the earth, and in a few moments looses all consciousness."

EXPLANATION OF THE CUT.

We may now be enabled, in some measure, to enter into the spirit of the design which accompanies the present article. These pilgrims, we will say, have visited the Holy City, worshipped in the Church of the Sepulchre, ascended the Mount of Olives, drank of

Written for the Ladies' Garland.
SAMUEL ELVERTON; OR, SISTERLY LOVE.
A LEAF OF REAL LIFE.
In Three Parts.-Part I.

BY HENRY J. BOGUE.

O, take the maddening bowl away!
Remove the poisonous cup!
My soul is sick-its burning ray
Hath drunk my spirit up;
Take-take it from my loathing lip,
Ere madness fires my brain;
Take-take it hence, nor let me sip
Its liquid death again.

MS. Poem.

too might one day be addicted to the cup,
and alas, to its attendant immoralities. By
degrees, however, he lost his sensibility; he
grew less displeased with the company and
conversation of his new associates; he could
smile at the wit; pass over the blasphemy;
and in the convivial conferences of his new
friends' leisure moments, he soon began to
occupy a conspicuous place.
The siren song
of flattery gradually enticed him to the vor-
tex of shameless feeling.

He still abhorred the guilt and consequences of intemperance, but he loved to see the wine sparkle in the cups;—he would not submit himself to its inebriating power; but he loved to feel its exhilirating and gladdening influence. His descent was soon begun, and its progress was rapid and easy.

Samuel Elverton was a member of one of those happy families of C- , the abode of peaceful and virtuous enjoyment. His Intemperance is the enemy of all men; of parents had centred in him and his sisters the rich and the poor-the learned and the all their affections and hopes; and their great || ignorant. It is certain ruin to the man who object in this world, next to preparing them- abuses it; it is possible, nay probable ruin to selves for another, was the intellectual and him who at all uses it. It is an enemy remoral advancement of their children. Their quiring fetters stronger than the lion; an eneunceasing exertions appeared to be crowned my not fit for liberty, and if not fit for liberty with successful results. then not fit for life. Intemperance, with Samuel, was slow, imperceptible, but certain. Man is never corrupted at once; villiany is progressive, and declines from right, step after step, until every regard for probity is lost, and every sense of moral obligation totally perishes.

The son especially soon began to evince superiority in the powers of his mind, and in the amiable qualities of his heart. The pious education, which he was receiving, seemed|| to be firmly fixing in his mind those pious principles which his fond parents hoped would constitute a sure defence against the direful The middle of Samuel's second year found and destructive temptations to which inex- him an altered man; regular habits broken, perienced youth is exposed. There is, how--his health impaired—his reputation totterever, but one such safeguard-that is the spirit of God. The necessity of this was not|| sufficiently felt by the parents of Samuel; and they exposed him to the dangerous influence of a college life, relying on the protection of moral principles, which they supposed had been established too firmly to be shaken. The University of C- is celebrated for its learned and pious men; its name is its eulogy. Yet there is always chaff with the wheat, and unfortunately, at the period of Samuel's studies, there were those students who frequented the theatre, read immoral and irreligious works, and their bad example scandalized the innocent student.

At first he was astonished and even shocked at the prevalence of an utter disregard of those religious and moral restraints, which he had been early taught to respect. He shuddered to hear God's name profaned-to see Sunday disregarded-holy ordinances ridiculed. He trembled when he discovered that many, who held forth fair and promising appearances to their friends, were abandoned to every vice in the hour of midnight revelry, sometimes intoxicated with the wine that had been smuggled into the apartments, and his heart sank in sadness at the thought, that he

ing, and his affections alienated from the happy home of his loving parents. The usual vacations were no longer anticipated with delight, for his conscience was not yet silenced, and the associations with "sweet home" revived it in all its powers. The cheerful inmates of the happy family loaded him with kindness and favours, but they were as coals of fire upon his head. The proofs of his father's indulgence stung him, for he knew that he was not deserving of them. His sister's unwearied kindness was irksome, for it reminded him that he was preparing a cup of misery for her lips; and when his mother turned upon him her eye of solicitude and affection, it was agony to him, for he knew that he was daily becoming the viper which would sting her to the heart.

His father observed his growing indifference, his averted face and unhappy air, and suspecting that all was not right, made inquiries, which acquainted him with the precipice on the brink of which his son was standing. After the first shock of surprise and horror had passed away, every exertion was made which paternal authority, or maternal or sisterly affection could devise, to win back again the son and the brother to