the long loose folds of his turban floating in the air, his beard and hair dishevelled, his filthy old cloak in tatters, and his eyes starting out of his head from the combined effects of utter amazement and consternation. As for speaking, he has no room or time to edge in a single word of remonstrance or reproof; and the poor Jew finds himself in the middle of the street, the centre of attraction to a gaping multitude who have been drawn to the spot by the noise of the scuffle, a convicted felon by the clamorous voices of the seraff and his three assistants, and exposed to the scoffs and jeers of those who are always too ready to take part against his persecuted race. Presently there is a temporary lull in the assembly, and the Jew, who has been screaming out his innocence at the utmost pitch of his voice, finds time to gather together the scattered fragments of his wardrobe, when the seraff, having recovered his breath, denounces him as the thief of the missing promissory bonds. 66 Lend money indeed! he can well afford to lend money when he comes by it so dishonestly!" This leads to fresh protestations of innocence on one side, and more threats and noise on the other.quent harangue in the light of so much unmeaning The cadi and the pasha are frequently held in terrorem over the trembling Hebrew's head, and this noise and jangling continue till an opulent old Turk, who happens to be passing that way, steps in at the banker's office and offers to be a mediator for the restoration of peace, and the investigation of the affair before it is carried any further. This offer being accepted, the Jew is dragged in as unceremoniously as he was expelled. The cause is investigated, the notes or bonds carefully counted over again and again, sometimes the calculator making an alarming deficit, and sometimes considerably exceeding the number. It must be admitted that, whatever they may have been in former times, the inhabitants of Arabia and Syria can now lay no claim to rank as mathematicians. At length the old Turk counts them himself, and doing so three times, each time finding them all correct, peace is at once restored, and the ill-used Jew is acquitted of the felony. mind how he can best turn the newly-acquired loan to a good account. This reverie is rather unpleasantly interrupted by the abrupt appearance of two Turkish officers belonging to the household of the pasha. The seraff knows their errand long before it is delivered, and though he receives them with forced civility and a mock smile upon his hard features, he is sitting on thorns during the whole of the earlier part of the interview, longing to hear, and yet not daring to ask, the exact amount required by his well-beloved friend the pasha. With a great deal of tact he turns the conversation upon the badness of the times, the exorbitant interest charged for loans, the apparent scarcity of money all over the world, and winds up with a deceitful declaration, that his exchequer is in such an exhausted state that he entertains fears of dying a beggar. After having done his best to work upon the sympathies of his listeners, he is rather disconcerted at detecting them in the very act of grinning at each other. His heart now sinks into his pocket; he is fully persuaded that his visitors have regarded his long and elo At this turn of the affair, of course the Jew is highly indignant; he goes off straight to the cadi, and lodges a complaint against the seraff; beyond a doubt, also, he will sue for damages for defamation! Nay, indeed; no such a thing was ever heard of in Turkey; the whole party look upon the affair as a capital joke, and laugh immoderately at the upshot of it. The idea," says the cunning old seraff, smiling, and offering his pipe to the buffeted Hebrew; "the idea of my forgetting myself so much, from the press of business occupation, as in the hurry of the moment to mistake the honest and honourable Howajah Meshak for a rogue! Ha! ha! it is indeed a capital joke!" and the seraff laughs, and the Turk smiles, and the three clerks are quite convulsed with laughter, while even poor Meshak tries to join in their hilarity, for he has an object to gain. The Turk has no sooner departed, and the order of business been restored, than the argument is again renewed between the head clerk and the Jew, the rate of interest duly arranged, and the money as duly deposited. The Jew goes away, well contented with the morning's transaction, and the old seraff is nodding over his pipe, calculating in his own verbiage; so, screwing up his courage to a sticking point, he asks boldly what their pleasure may be to-day. It is as he feared: the pasha wants a loan of forty or fifty thousand piastres for six months, with a nominal interest, which he full well knows he will never receive. A deep sigh bursts from his breast as he signs the necessary order which is to procure the cash elsewhere in the town. The officers laugh merrily at his sadness, and walk away without even condescending to wish him a good morning, while the seraff fags hard the rest of that day, so that others may make restitution to him for the injury he has received at the pasha's hand, by paying more than usually heavy interest. It is not all loss, however, as the seraff well knows. By always obliging the pasha, he manages to keep in the good graces of that high functionary; hence, if he find any difficulty in recovering loans, or interest for loans, from any one, he is pretty sure of the pasha's interference on his behalf; and next to that individual, with perhaps a few of the more influential Turkish nobles, the seraff is beyond a doubt the most respected and most feared personage in the town. But apart from his avocation as money-lender, and his commission as government banker, which latter entitles him to carry a crescent on high days and holidays in his red tarboushe, which on these occasions he wears without any turban, the seraff enjoys a regular income derived from a species of monopoly practised by no other creed or profession in the East. This is a kind of head-money levied by him upon all his fellow-countrymen who may chance to be residing within the jurisdiction of the pashalik to which he is attached. The method of levying this income is as follows. Many Armenians annually migrate into Syria in search of what they grievously lack in their own country, namely, the wherewithal to supply the frugal wants of themselves and their families. Most of these enter the service of Europeans and rich native residents, as cooks or domestic servants; some few serve as grooms; and the others are employed as gardeners and vine-dressers by planters. On first arriving in a pashalik, they seek out the seraff, who is sure to be their countryman, and confiding to him their wants, they are supplied with clothes and money to meet their present necessities, and the seraff exerts his influence amongst his townsmen in procuring employment for them. It is a tacitly understood thing that for every appointment procured a small percentage must be annually paid to the seraff; and as the men advance in life, and their prospects improve, so in a ratio proportioned to their salary or income the Armenian seraff receives his stipulated percentage. Hence it is his own interest, as much as that of any one else, to endeavour to make the best bargain he can in recommending his needy countrymen for employment. And they, whatever their prosperity in life may be, seldom fail to be punctual in their payment to the seraff, because they are bound to this promise by an oath. It seldom happens, as has been already stated, that Armenians get themselves into trouble with the local authorities. Any petty differences arising between themselves are invariably settled by the bishops or priests; but now and then a defaulter is to be found amongst them; and then, rather than an exposé should take place, the whole community will subscribe to hush up the matter, and the culprit is sent back to his country in double-quick time. Some very rare instances have occurred where the offence committed has been of so grave a nature as to require, by the strict letter of the Turkish law, the forfeiture of the liberty or even the life of the criminal. In these cases, the influence of the seraff over the pasha has rendered service to the culprit, the pasha even assisting, sub rosa, at his escape and flight into Armenia. But just upon the same principle as the seraff protects his countrypeople, for the quid pro quo consideration of his protection and support versus their money, so also the pasha, whenever he has befriended the tribe of the seraff, hints darkly at the recompence he expects and intends to have; and the result is, that heavy bags of money change places from the banker's house to the pasha's serrai, and this individual is just as many thousand piastres the richer as the banker and the Armenian community are the poorer. But the old seraff sucks so much profit out of his countrymen and the townsmen at large, that, saving the trouble, he is never a pecuniary loser by these rare transactions. of the scraff himself, so metamorphosed by his gay holiday attire, that in the spruce old gentleman rustling about in costly silk and muslin robes, with the golden crescent in his cap set with precious stones, you will hardly recognise our old friend Hadji Saskies Karakoose, the Armenian banker. The amber mouth-piece of the elegant pipe he is smoking is set with first-water brilliants and emeralds, and is computed to have cost not less than 7007. Opposite to him are his wife and his two daughters, carrying as many jewels and coins about their person as would, if changed into hard cash and placed out in three per cent. consols, procure for you or me a comfortable independence for the rest of our lives. The son, too, is quite a blaze of gold rings, watch-chains, and loose satin trousers. Neighbours and friends come pouring in by the dozen, to wish the old banker better fortune still; and, if our eyes do not deceive us, there is actually old Meshak amongst them. Though a Jew, he has come to wish a Christian the usual salutation in the East on Easter day. He has doffed his every-day garments, and his beard has been fresh anointed. Now there is a busy hum of many voices, chattering and laughing together. The old lady smokes her costly golden narghilie, and the girls are busy serving round coffee, sherbet, and lemonade, besides finely-candied preserve. In the midst of these enjoyments there is a sudden commotion in the assembly, and the ladies take to their heels and scamper up-stairs, out of sight. The cause of all this is the appearance of the two Turkish officers to whom we have been already introduced; they come this time, however, not to borrow money, but to pay the pasha's compliments, the only interest the seraff can ever hope to obtain for his loan of fifty thousand piastres. However, it is certain he can well afford to lose this, and so one of the officers, a sly rogue of a fellow, seems to think; for as he sips his sherbet from the costly cup, and takes a rapid survey of the apartments, he smiles confidentially at his companion, and hints in a very audible whisper, that though all the neighbours might chance to die paupers, there was little fear of such being the lot of our friend the Armenian banker. HAMBURGH AND BREMEN. HAMBURGH has been termed "the suburb of London." The designation would be more correct were it changed to "the Northern London," for there is no foreign city in all Europe which boasts one-half the shipping and general commerce of Hamburgh. Such is the seraff's every-day business life; and thus he goes on heaping riches upon riches, not knowing who shall gather them. In contradistinction to the poverty-stricken aspect of his person and office, his private house stands forth unrivalled in the town for elegance and costliness of garniture. You have no sooner passed over the threshold, leaving the dirty streets and blank walls behind you, than you are immediately convinced that you are in the abode of a man of opulence. The gardens, the fountains, the costly furniture, the chandeliers, the marble pavements, the gold and silver filigree finjans and coffee-pots, the exquisitelycut glass sherbet-bottles, and the handsome narghilies bubbling up their steam through the purest and best-scented rose-water-all these are convincing proofs of superabundant wealth. Should you want still more convincing evidence, call at the seraff's house on some great festive occasion ; let us say the Easter festival, for instance. Then * Christ is risen from the dead; He is indeed risen. Ilwill burst upon your astonished gaze the person hum-dill-Allah-Praises be to God! Entering the Elbe, we sail nearly eighty miles ere we reach the free city of Hamburgh. As we approach it, the forests of masts and the_general aspect of the shores forcibly remind the Englishman of the Thames; but the scenes on the wooded heights of Blankanese, crowded with charming villas belonging to the Hamburgh merchants, are decidedly more picturesque and inviting than the views between London and Greenwich. Closely adjoining Hamburgh is the chief town of the duchy of Holstein, Altona, a place of 30,000 inhabitants, which is said to owe all its prosperity "to the crumbs that fall from its neighbour, the free city's table"-a thing we can well believe. Hamburgh itself now contains probably full 200,000 inhabitants, and no city of its size in the world is more wealthy. Its merchants are indeed princes, and hospitable as rich. sively been baffled by these mounds of simple earth. Copenhagen is similarly fortified. Hamburgh, being a free city of the Germanic confederation, has one vote at the assembly at Frankfort, and during the last few years it has suffered severely through the rebellions in Germany, and the war between Denmark and the revolted duchies of Sleswig-Holstein. A large Prussian garrison yet occupies it, to the bitter indignation of the burghers, who are treated, as they consider, with overbearing harshness by the troops, and made to pay in purse and person, besides having their press subjected to a most rigid censorship. Some bloody conflicts between the citizens and the soldiers have taken place in consequence. On entering Hamburgh for the first time, you are quite bewildered with the din around you. Representatives of all nations are jabbering together, but if you know no language except English, you manage just as well as in one of your own cities, for almost everybody speaks English more or less, as a matter of business necessity. When you are settled a little, and have time to look about you, there is plenty to amuse and gratify the taste Schnell-posts take the traveller in a few hours of even a blasé traveller. The city is most magni- from Hamburgh to Bremen, which is situated in a ficent-not so much in respect to its public build- north-western district of Hanover, but does not ings as its superb private streets, and mansions, belong to that kingdom, being, like Hamburgh, one and squares. The tremendous conflagration of of the four Hanse towns, or free cities of Germany; 1842 (which destroyed sixty streets, and nearly two and very pleased are the worthy Bremeners of their thousand houses) was the best thing that ever hap-freistadt, and long may they enjoy it, as they depened to Hamburgh. It spared the finest existing serve! They fancy themselves the élite of free streets; and in place of the narrow, crazy rows of people, but we can assure our fellow-countrymen lanes destroyed, there are now splendid ranges of that there is small need to envy the Bremeners, wide streets, reminding one of the Rue de Rivoli who are governed by twelve senators, in whose at Paris, or of the very finest of the London election they have no more voice than in that of streets. The most remarkable buildings are St. the emperor of China; and these twelve senators Michael's Church, with a steeple of the amazing are far more irresponsible than the ministers of any altitude of 456 feet, and the Bourse, or Exchange, monarchical government in all Europe! Yet only which, although in the very midst of the great fire, breathe such an opinion in Bremen, and if you was saved. The business at the Bourse is chiefly escape the consequences scathless, you are a more from one to two o'clock, and no stranger should fortunate fellow than we anticipate! neglect to visit it. The city abounds with excellent hotels and coffee-houses, and with exceedingly large and well-conducted public hospitals and other benevolent institutions. The Krankenhaus, or infirmary, cost a million of dollars building. The poor are exceedingly well provided for, and hardly a beggar is to be met with. Schools abound, and nearly all the old catholic monasteries and convents are now converted into benevolent institutions of one kind or other. The religion of four-fifths of the inhabitants is Lutheran, but there are places of worship according to the church of England, the methodists, and other denominations, and also several Jewish synagogues. There are said to be seven thousand Jews in the city, and about half that number of catholics. The Lutheran church is united to the state, and its discipline and cost are controlled by the senatorial government. The environs of Hamburgh are delightful, and within the city itself the places of public resort are extremely pleasant. The Binnen Alster, a large lake, surrounded with a beautiful esplanade, is in the heart of the town, and charming is it to lounge here in summer evenings, imbibing the pure cool air and the fragrance wafted from the baskets of the flower-girls, and listening to the mellow music of numerous bands. The walks on the tree-planted ramparts inclosing the city are also truly exhilarating. These ramparts once rendered Hamburgh almost impregnable. They consist, not of walls, but of immense embankments of solid earth, as strong again as masonry, and no amount of cannonballs could make any breach in them, though fired as thick as plums in a pudding. The Prussians, Russians, French, and Swedes, have all succes Bremen is a place very little visited by English travellers, and less known among us than places not half so interesting at ten times the distance. It is a prosperous town of seventy or eighty thousand inhabitants, and abounds with edifices and institutions well worthy of being seen. Yet it ought to possess peculiar attraction to all Englishmen, for it was hence that Hengist and Horsa sailed, and it is generally admitted that the district around Bremen supplied the Saxons who invaded England; so that it is, or ought to be, in some measure, classic ground to us, as being the land of our forefathers. The Platt-Deutsch dialect spoken here abounds with words which Englishmen cannot fail to recognise as being derived from the same roots, and differing very little in sound from similar words in our existing language. Citizens of Bremen! we are your brothers! quit your delightful evening parties, we feel that we are indeed exchanging a cordial gute nacht with the descendants of our common ancestors, and that we are only branches of the same old family, living a few hundred miles apart. Never let us forget this! When we Like Hamburgh, Bremen is surrounded with a deep broad moat, and mighty ramparts, which are now lined with handsome houses and shady promenades, commanding pleasant views of the river Weser, and a rich tract of sunny landscape, diversified with villas and homesteads embosomed in foliage and green pasturage and waving cornfields. The town itself is most cheerful and picturesque. It seems to enjoy a green old age. Very old it most certainly is, and yet there is no decay about it, but a wholesome venerable air that has an inexpressible charm. The Rath-haus, or town-hall, is the most remarkable building. It is of great antiquity, and is a striking and noble specimen of architecture. Its stone carved work is wonderfully elaborate, and will repay long examination. The council-hall in this Rath-haus is quite a study for the archæologist. It is lighted by lofty stainedglass windows, and the ceiling is painted and adorned with portraits of the German emperorsand a rude and ugly set of fellows they must have been if these portraits are faithful! There is a gallery, most richly carved, and mounted by a staircase of oak, black as ebony, which is also cut full of fanciful devices. Beneath are the cellars such cellars! One extends the whole length of the Rath-haus, and its vaulted roof is supported by enormous pillars. Half this cellar is filled with casks of Rhenish wine, and the other half is divided into little boxes for those who frequent it. The "Rose" cellar adjoining, boasts a dozen casks of Rosenwein said to be nearly two centuries old! A third cellar is called somewhat irreverently the "Apostles'," as it contains twelve prodigious casks of wine so old that no man knows its exact age! You must have great influence with the senators of Bremen to get a draught from any one of these butts. The cathedral, the museum, the theatre, and the exhibition of paintings, are the other great lions of Bremen. The theatre is strongly supported, for theatricals are sanctioned by the clergy! The Lutherans are in a minority here, most of the inhabitants being of the Reformed church, and many are disciples of the very pernicious material and rationalistic creeds which have sprung up in Germany. Long may England be preserved from the spread of such enlightenment as the German rationalists profess! Open infidelity is not more dangerous and destructive. One thing which puzzles and amuses a stranger in Bremen is the extraordinary ties of relationship subsisting among the people. Everybody seems related to everybody! This results from perpetual intermarriage-a most objectionable custom, as all physiologists can tell us. The familientag, or formal family parties, of these relations are frequent, and none but relations are admitted. Other parties are very common and very agreeable, and any respectable foreigner (an Englishman especially) can easily procure an invitation. Of these parties the most singular is that called a kranzbinden-a party given by a bride and bridegroomelect a few days before marriage, and none but bachelors and maids are invited to it! The guests assemble very early, and separate at the unseasonable hour of five or six o'clock on the ensuing morning! Many of these entertainments last twelve hours! The bride is crowned, and there is tea and supper, with snacks even between these meals. We may remark that the betrothment of couples is a serious affair here, and often a pair are engaged to each other for years before the union takes place, and they almost invariably announce in the public newspapers that they will be married at such a place and at such a time! Publicity, indeed, is courted. The banns of marriage are published over and over in church. The mention of the latter reminds us of a singular usage in the middle of sermons. We allude to the klingelbeutel, or ringing-purse. Men go round among the congregation with a long staff, at the end of which is attached a bag, or purse, and a bell! They give it a shake as they thrust it under your nose, to make the little bell ring, as a reminder for you to drop your charitable contribution in the purse. And all this goes on in the midst of the discourse from the pulpit! There are many social meetings at Bremen and its vicinity. What are called "ladies' parties," par excellence, are rather dull affairs to a foreigner who only partially understands the language. There is nothing but knitting and idle gossiping, with a little formal singing or dancing, and occasionally, it is true, very animated debates on current literature. The young ladies here are all transcendentalists; but at the same time they are amazingly fond of good living, and among other things, of sweetmeats. They are generally pleasing-looking and good-humoured, and a stranger feels at home in their company in a few minutes. They will sit beside you, and chat pleasantly, kindly correcting your blunders in German, and laughing goodnaturedly when you make a very ludicrousfaux pas in that dreadful language: ROBERT HALL. SOMEWHAT too much has been said of late years about heroes, and too little of that internal spring of action which, coming from above, can alone produce worthy deeds and form a truly heroic nature. We deem it altogether unsound and most injurious in tendency to extol mere greatness-to raise mental power, no matter how employed, to that pinnacle which should be reserved only for virtuous and holy deeds. At the present time, the ancient reverence for the sword and warlike exploits is, we thankfully acknowledge, becoming less and less cherished; but another sentiment has meanwhile occupied its place, and the man of intellectual pre-eminence receives that homage once awarded only to the warrior. Obviously this is an advance in the right direction, but the danger also is as evident; and we are still tempted to award praise to that which surprises and dazzles us, without considering the motives which produce it, or the end which it effects. It will be pleasant, therefore, and certainly it cannot be unprofitable, to review the history of one whose whole life was a course of calm Christian heroism, and whose mental and spiritual endowments have raised him to a noble position in the eyes both of the church and of the world. Robert Hall, one of the most eloquent preachers of modern times, was born at Arnsby, near Lei cester, on the 2nd May, 1764. From his earliest years he evinced extraordinary mental precocity. At the age of nine he read and re-read Edwards "On the Will," and Butler's " Analogy;" but with this wonderful advancement, he showed at the same time symptoms of that harassing disease which never left him throughout his whole life, and which, working for good, concurred to make it so beautiful, so harmonious. In 1778, we find him at the Bristol Institution, a baptist college for young men preparing for the ministry, and here, after a while, an incident occurred worthy of record. We will relate it in the words of his biographer: "There is reason to apprehend that at this period our view, are some of the anecdotes related of of his life Mr. Hall, notwithstanding the correct him at this period of his life. His amusing absence ness and excellence of his general principles, and of mind; his love of tea and table-talk; his sharp the regularity of his devotional habits, had set too witticisms upon Cambridge, which, like Milton, he high an estimate on merely intellectual attain- cordially hated, are all doubtless trifles, and yet, ments, and valued himself-not more perhaps than withal, memorable as characteristic of a great man. was natural to youth, yet too much-on the extent There are beautiful traits, too, which win our adof his mental possessions. No wonder, then, that miration and love. His visits to the members of he should experience salutary mortification. And his church and congregation were constant and thus it happened. He was appointed, agreeably to uniform. With his poorer brethren he would sit the arrangements already mentioned, to deliver an down to supper, satisfied with a basin of milk, that address in the vestry of Broadmead Chapel, on he might not involve them in expense; or, with 1 Tim. iv. 10. After proceeding for a short time, tea and sugar in his pocket, he would visit the much to the gratification of his auditory, he sud-humble widows of his flock, always remembering denly paused, covered his face with his hands, to leave some behind him on his departure. "To exclaimed, 'Oh! I have lost all my ideas!' and them," he said, "he repaired for religious instrucsat down, his hands still hiding his face. The tion, and was seldom disappointed." failure, however, painful as it was to his tutors, and humiliating to himself, was such as rather augmented than diminished their persuasion of what he could accomplish, if once he acquired selfpossession. He was, therefore, appointed to speak again, on the same subject, at the same place, the ensuing week. This second attempt was accom-gular intenseness. Not a sound was heard but panied by a second failure, still more painful to witness, and still more grievous to bear. He hastened from the vestry, and on retiring to his room, exclaimed, 'If this does not humble me, the devil must have me!'" Thus early was Hall called to pass through the valley of humiliation, and it was doubtless through this and kindred discipline that he was invigorated for future contests, darker and more painful still. From the Bristol Academy, Hall passed to King's College, Aberdeen, where, in his nineteenth year, commenced that memorable friendship with sir James Mackintosh, which was interrupted only by death. In 1783, he was chosen assistant pastor to Dr. Caleb Evans, and ere two years had expired he was appointed classical tutor in the Bristol Academy, an office which he held for more than five years. At length an unfortunate misunderstanding between Hall and Dr. Evans led to his removal from Bristol, and the acceptance of a pastorate in Cambridge. His predecessor had in later years become a socinian, and many of the congregation had imbibed his views. Hall's first sermon was on the atonement. At its conclusion, one of the congregation said to him, "Mr. Hall, this preaching won't do for us; it will only suit a congregation of old women.' "Do you mean my sermon, sir, or the doctrine ?" "Your doctrine." "Why is it that the doctrine is fit only for old women ?" "Because it may suit the musings of people tottering upon the brink of the grave, and who are eagerly seeking comfort." "Thank you, sir, for your concession. The doctrine will not suit people of any age unless it be true; and if it be true, it is not fitted for old women alone, but is equally important at every age." Hall's residence at Cambridge contains much to interest, but much which, from the necessary briefness of our sketch, we shall be compelled to omit. There he first came before the public as an author; there he studied with an energy and perseverance which are quite marvellous, when we consider that he was an almost constant sufferer; and there, above all, his religious character became more conspicuous and more evangelical. Very pleasant, in Hall's popularity at this time had reached no ordinary height. The power which he exercised over his congregation is thus described by Dr. Gregory :-" From the commencement of his discourse an almost breathless silence prevailed, deeply impressive and solemnizing from its sin that of the preacher's voice; scarcely an eye but |