the Pharaohs, or ancient race of monarchs, governed Egypt, the site of Alexandria was occupied but by a few herdsmen. When Alexander, 332 years before the Christian era, swept away the Persian dominion in Egypt, about two centuries after it had been set up by Cambyses on the ruins of the Pharaohs, the Macedonian conqueror found but a few miserable huts on the spot which his far-seeing eye chose for the site of the magnificent Alexandria, the chief seat, under his successors the Ptolemies, of commerce and of the arts, and, for ages, the capital of the world.

Passing through a narrow circuitous channel into the "Old Harbour," a spacious port called by the ancients "Portus Eunosti," or "Harbour of Safe Return," our vessel anchored in front of the Naval Arsenal, amid eight fine Egyptian two-deckers, and many smaller vessels of war. Viewed from this anchorage, the city presented to us a very bright and gay appearance. Its mosques, with their tall pointed minarets, its royal palaces and other structures, in the light fantastic style of modern Oriental architecture, sparkling in the clear atmosphere, and reflected in the smooth waters of the bay, offered the charm with which Turkish cities often attract the eye at a distance, usually vanishing on a close approach.

Wending my way through the Turkish

quarter, which is nearest to the landing-place, among houses chiefly wooden, many of them broken and falling to decay, between heaps of rubbish and filth, probably the accumulations of years, I rejoiced at length to emerge into wide streets of well-built stone houses, constituting the Frank quarter of the city. Here flags of all nations float gaily in the sunshine; and, a still more pleasant sight, a large handsome building displays the cheerful inscription,-" Hôtel de l'Europe." The population of Alexandria, which, in its height of prosperity, under its Greek sovereigns, amounted to upwards of 300,000 freemen, numbered, at the commencement of the present century, about 7,000 souls. The enterprising spirit of Mehmet Ali has, in our days, restored some trade to the place, and it now contains nearly 30,000 inhabitants of all classes.

The chief interest here, however, is not in the modern city, and I lost no time in setting forth on a ramble among the monuments of ancient greatness,―relics of the magnificence which once distinguished the capital of the Ptolemies. Right glad to miss the officious importunities of "guides," so trying to the patience of a traveller who may carry with him a disposition to see or to think for himself, I directed my course towards "Pompey's Pillar," the monument which had first attracted my eye at sea, which serves, like

wise, as a landmark to the wandering Arab on the sea-like wilderness of sand that encompasses the land of Egypt. The column is situated about a mile to the south of the wall built by the Arabs, which marks the reduced limits of the city under its Saracen masters. A mile, in this climate, is a distance not to be lightly traversed on foot by those who can command any easier means of transit, such as are afforded here in almost every street, where boys emulously and clamorously commend to the service of the passenger the asses which they hold ready for hire. I selected one which bore a high, well-padded saddle, covered with a handsome leopard-skin. How unlike the heavy quadruped which, in in Europe, we consider the very symbol of slowness and obstinacy, is the sprightly little Egyptian donkey! Scarcely had I mounted its back, when the animal set off at a brisk canter, followed by the boy, running close at our heels, and pouring forth exhortations to speed, rather, as it appeared, for form's sake, than because his ass needed any such incitement. In this more easy than dignified manner I approached the majestic pillar which bears the name of the great Pompey. Our progress thither lay over barren sands and masses of rubbish, among which the swarthy, half-clad Arab, wild in appearance as any of the savage tribes that frequented. the spot before the coming of Alexander,

digs for fragments of buried slabs and columns. The ground on which the pillar stands is elevated about forty feet above the level of the surrounding sands. The total height of pedestal, base, shaft, and capital, is ninety-three or ninety-four feet. There is a strongly-marked contrast between the different parts of the column, which is composed of four separate blocks. Its shaft, sixtyseven feet in height, is of the rose-granite of Upper Egypt. The other parts are of greyish granite, and as inferior to the shaft in finish of workmanship as in beauty of material. The foliage and other ornaments of the Corinthian capital are not disposed with a spirit and correctness of grouping worthy the chisel of the Greek sculptor in the purest age of his art. Attention to such faults of detail may, however, be well absorbed in the wonder and admiration with which, standing at the foot of this magnificent structure, one contemplates, on so vast a scale, the form of Grecian beauty allied to Egyptian grandeur. Here seems to be the link between two worlds of art. In the union of huge mass with exquisite workmanship appears combined in one the genius of those who raised the Pyramids and of those who carved the Parthenon.

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Although it is generally considered that this pillar was not originally erected memory of Pompey, its popular name may

yet be as appropriate as any other which can be assigned; notwithstanding that a halflegible inscription, probably long posterior in date to the monument itself, dedicates it to the Emperor Diocletian. There is much reason, indeed, to support the conjecture that, in its first destination, it was no isolated column, in honour either of Diocletian or of Pompey, of Adrian, of Severus, or of Titus, to each of whom it has been in turn ascribed. Fragments of ancient buildings which surround its base give an impression that it once formed part of a vast edifice. A tradition sufficiently plausible as well as interesting to justify its preservation, points to this spot as the site of the academy which Alexander founded, and in which Aristotle lectured. In accordance with such a belief, Arabic writers mention a building here which they name the "Dwelling of Wisdom."

It has been also held that the great Temple of Serapis has bequeathed us a relic of its ancient splendour in this column; on which supposition it may be regarded as a memorial of a transition more remarkable than the change from Egyptian to European style of architecture. The famous library of the Serapeium, which replaced, though it never equalled in extent, the great Alexandrian library, burnt during the siege of the city by Julius Cæsar, was a mixed store-house of sacred and profane lore. More than any