The Pyramids of Egypt, the most ancient and the most colossal structures on the earth,—the purpose and appropriation of which has been much controverted by antiquaries and men of science,—have been considered by some to have served as Sun-dials. Sir Gardner Wilkinson does not pretend to explain the real object for which these stupendous monuments were constructed, but feels persuaded that they have served for tombs, and have also been intended for astronomical purposes. “The form of the exterior might lead to many useful calculations. They stand exactly due north and south; and while the direction of the faces to the east and west might serve to fix the return of a certain period of the year, the shadow cast by the sun, or the time of its coinciding with their slope, might be observed for a similar purpose.” There is an interesting association of the Great Pyramid with the ambitious dream of one of the world’s celebrities, which may be noticed here. When Napoleon I. was in Egypt, in 1799, he rode on a camel to the Great Pyramid and the Sphinx, that relic of mystic grandeur. Karl Girardet has painted this impressive visit; and the picture has been engraved by Gautier, and inscribed, “Forty Centuries look down upon him.” Charles Mackay has written a graceful poem as a pendent to this print; in which the poet makes the young Napoleon thus invoke the colossal monuments: Ye haughty Pyramids! Thou Sphinx, whose eyeless lids On my presumptuous youth seem bent in scorn! What though thou’st stood Coeval with the flood, Of all earth’s monuments the earliest born, And I so mean and small, With armies at my call, Am recent in thy sight as grass of yestermorn! Yet in this soul of mine Is strength as great as thine, O dull-eyed Sphinx that wouldst despise me now; Is grandeur like thine own, O melancholy stone, With forty centuries furrow’d on thy brow; Deep in my heart I feel What time shall yet reveal, That I shall tower o’er men, as o’er these deserts thou. The dreamer of empire proceeds, bespeaking: Nations yet to be, Surging from Time’s deep sea, Shall teach their babes the name of great Napoleon. But hear the reply of the decaying oracle: Over the mighty chief There came a shadow of grief. The lips gigantic seemed to move and say, “Know’st thou his name that bid Arise yon Pyramid? Know’st thou who placed me where I stand to-day? Thy deeds are but as sand Strewn on the heedless land: Think, little mortal, think, and pass upon thy way!