was myself employed on at Naplouse." An acquaintance begun under such circumstances grows into friendship with amazing rapidity; and many are the joyous hours the foragers spend together, in spite of intolerable weather and storms of sleet and snow, which bear a far greater resemblance to the climate of Lochaber than to that of Syria, "land of roses." Reinforced with the count and his companions, Colonel Napier pushes on--gets into the vicinity of Ibrahim--his rabble rout turn tail, in case of being swallowed alive by the ferocious pasha, whose reputation for cruelty and all manner of iniquities seems well deserved, and having ascertained the movements of that formidable ruffian, he returned to Naplouse to take the command of 1500 half-tamed, undisciplined savages, with whom to oppose his retreat. Luckily, the ratification of the convention come in the nick of time; for it is very evident that the best cudgels that were ever cut in "the classic woods of Hawthornden," could not have awakened a spark of military ardour in the wretched riff-raff assemblage appointed for this service--and of all the abortive efforts at generalship we have ever read of, the attempt of the Turkish commanders was infinitely the worse--no foresight in providing for difficulties--no valour in fighting their way out of them; but, to compensate for these trifling deficiencies, a plentiful supply of pride and cruelty, with a due admixture of dishonesty. We heartily join, with Colonel Napier, in wondering where the deuce the "integrity of the Ottoman empire" is to be found, as, beyond all doubt, not a particle of it exists in any of its subjects. The pashas of Egypt, bad as they undoubtedly are, have redeeming points about them, which the Hassans, and Izzets, and Reschids of the Turks have no conception of; and, lively and sparkling as the gallant colonel's narrative is, we confess it leaves a sadder impression on our minds of the hopelessness and the degeneracy of the Moslems, than any book we have met with. Turk and Egyptian should equally be whipped back into the desert, and the fairest portions of the world be won over to civilization, wealth, and happiness. The present volumes close at the end of January 1841, and perhaps they are among the best results of the campaign. We shall be glad to see the proceedings at Alexandria sketched off in the same pleasant style. THE FATE OF POLYCRATES.--_Herod._ iii. 124-126. "Oh! go not forth, my father dear--oh! I go not forth to-day, And trust not thou that Satrap dark, for he fawns but to betray; His courteous smiles are treacherous wiles, his foul designs to hide; Then go not forth, my father dear--in thy own fair towers abide." "Now, say not so, dear daughter mine--I pray thee, say not so! Where glory calls, a monarch's feet should never fear to go; And safe to-day will be my way through proud Magnesia's halls, As if I stood 'mid my bowmen good beneath my Samian walls.