"Laugh and mock, if you will, at the worship of stone idols; but mark ye this, ye breakers of images, that in one regard the stone idol bears awful semblance of Deity,--unchangefulness in the midst of change,--the same seeming will and intent, forever and forever inexorable. Upon ancient dynasties of Ethiopian and Egyptian kings,--upon Greek and Roman, upon Arab and Ottoman conquerors,--upon Napoleon dreaming of an Eastern empire,--upon battle and pestilence,--upon the ceaseless misery of the Egyptian race,--upon keen-eyed travellers,--Herodotus yesterday, Warbarton to-day,--upon all, and more, this unworldly Sphinx has watched and watched like a Providence, with the same earnest eyes, and the same sad, tranquil mien. And we, we shall die; and Islam will wither away; and the Englishman, leaning far over to hold his loved India, will plant a firm foot on the banks of the Nile, and sit in the seats of the Faithful; and still that sleepless rock will lie watching and watching the works of the new, busy race, with those same sad, earnest eyes, and that same tranquil mien, everlasting. You dare not mock at the Sphinx!" Not less stupendously placid than the Sphinx, and even grimmer in his remoteness from the places that have heard Messiah's name, is the Boodh, throned in trance, and multitudinously worshipped. Shall I tell you how I first beheld him in his glory? We were approaching some sacred caves in Burmah. Lighting our torches, and each man taking one, we mounted the steep, tortuous, and slippery foot-path of damp, green stones, through the thorny shrubs that beset it, to the low entrance to the outer cavern. Stooping uncomfortably, we passed into a small, vacant antechamber, having a low, dripping roof, perpendicular walls, clammy and green, and a rocky floor, sloping inward through a narrow arch to a long, double, transverse gallery, divided in the direction of its length, partly by a face of rock, partly by a row of pillars. Here were innumerable images of Guadma, the counterfeit presentment of the Fourth Boodh, whose successor is to see the end of all things,--innumerable, and of every stature, from Hop-o'-my-thumbs to Hurlo-thrombos, but all of the identical orthodox pattern,--with pendulous ears, one hand planted squarely on the knee, the other sleeping in the lap, an eternity of front face, and a smooth stagnancy of expression, typical of an unfathomable calm,--the Guadma of a span as grim as he of ten cubits, and he of ten cubits as vacant as the Guadma of a span,--of stone, of lead, of wood, of clay, of earthenware and alabaster,--on their bottoms, on their heads, on their backs, on their sides, on their faces,--black, white, red, yellow,--an eye gone, a nose gone, an ear gone, a head gone,--an arm off at the shoulder, a leg at the knee,--a back split, a bosom burst,--Guadma, imperturbable, eternal, calm,--in the midst of time, timeless! It is not annihilation which the Boodh has promised, as the blessed crown of