dary sites of some of the miraculous events, which occurred within its walls, consistent with Scripture narrative, and is contradicted by the nature of the ground; for it is unreasonable to suppose, that the advantage of a strong position would be abandoned by enclosing a deep valley, when there was space enough on the table-land for indefinite extension.

He who visits the various sites enumerated by tradition in Jerusalem, should visit them without investigating too narrowly the evidence by which they have been established. He cannot, indeed, be far wrong; for the compass, within which the facts occurred, is but a narrow one. And there is an indefinite sentiment of awe and veneration, in believing we are standing upon the very spot, where our Saviour was judged, was crucified, or was buried. If there were no idle mummeries around one, this feeling would be deeper and holier; but it is impossible wholly to abstract ourselves from the circumstances with which superstition has invested these places. Still, the moment when he stands upon the hill of Zion is an era in the life of any man; and he feels more concentration of existence at that instant, than is given to him to experience upon any other spot on the face of the earth.

Without the circuit of Jerusalem, uncertainty ceases. The Mount of Olives, the Garden of Gethsemane, Mount Gihon, the Mount of Evil Counsel, the pools, the fountains, the brooks, all remain as in the brightest days of Bible history; deprived, indeed, of all their marble monuments, constructed when Solomon made silver to be in Jerusalem as stones, and when cedars were as the sycamore trees in the vale for abundance; but impressive and interesting in their desolation. And he who can roam among these solitary places, without feeling his faith strengthened and his heart touched, has none of the true characteristics of a pilgrim, and will find himself a stranger in the Holy Land.

Our author had too much of the true spirit of a pilgrim not to visit Jericho, the Jordan, and the Dead Sea. His recital of the journey is lively and amusing, and we have nothing more to expect from any traveller at this day. The country has been too often described, and its historical incidents too often recalled, to allow writer or reader to find any novelty upon the path. A more dreary-looking region we never saw but once, and that was upon the River Ontonogan,

which enters Lake Superior upon its southern side, and which, for barrenness and desolation, may have a rival, but can have no superior upon the face of the earth. And to those, who know the acuteness of the Indians, in directing their course through the forest, it is a sufficient proof of the nature of this district to say, that an active Chippewa, who was with us, was unable to thread his way out of this labyrinth.

From Jerusalem to the precipitous cliffs, overlooking the plain of the Jordan, the country offers a succession of high sharp hills, without trees or any kind of verdure, and covered with black, rugged rocks. The narrow path winds its way amongst these stupendous masses, following the gullies worn by the watercourses, until it attains the brow of the ridge, looking down upon the valley, the river, and the lake. And a quiet-looking sheet of water it is; but oh! how different from those beautiful reservoirs, which our own beloved country spreads out, embosomed among green and fertile hills, and variegated by all that can render them pleasant and useful. Within this vale there are no trees, no vegetation, no inhabitants, no domestic animals; for a few miserable wandering Arabs are not enough to form an exception. Neither is there any soil to minister to the wants of man; for a saline incrustation, deposited by the fogs of the sea, covers the earth, and is destructive to vegetable life. The descent of the mountain is so precipitous, that great care is necessary to prevent accidents. When we made this journey, the faithless guides were desirous we should pass the night at the miserable residence of the Sheick on the ruins of Jericho; but, knowing the dirt and worse than dirt of an Arab village, we determined to avoid it. We were told, there was danger from some of the wild tribes, if we stopped short; but we put our faith in the terror inspired by the name of Mehemet Ali, and slept soundly and safely at the spring of Elisha, and blessed the prophet for his miraculous intervention, which had converted the saline waters of this lovely fountain into as pleasant a draught as ever delighted a thirsty traveller. If this is not the fountain of the palm trees, where the Christian Knight and the Saracen Emir kept truce together, after the combat recorded in "The Talisman, ," we know not where to seek it. The topography, indeed, of this region is not in strict keeping, in this most interesting romance; but, though false to fact, it is true to

nature. If the pilgrimage of the Scottish crusader led him to the convent of Santa Caba, in the desert of Saint John, his visit to the Dead Sea was a work of supererogation to himself, but most acceptable to the reader; who finds in the description of this détour, some of the most powerful delineations of natural objects, and some of the most striking incidents, which we owe to the admirable genius of Scott.

The reverberation of the sun's rays gave to the vale of Siddim an equatorial heat in the month of August, and we raised ourselves from the fount of Elisha, and resumed our route to the Dead Sea, before the dawn of day, to avoid, as much as possible, the noontide sun. We traversed much of the space between Jericho and the shore of the lake in the night, and a most impressively mournful ride we had of it; over barren sands, covered here and there by low, stunted bushes, every now and then striking us in the face, to warn us, as it were, that the home of the wild Arab was around us. And, as the streaks of morning light dawned over the mountain of Moab, a most extraordinary spectacle presented itself to our eyes; an army appeared upon the dreary, deserted sand, between us and the dark water, which stretched away beyond our view, lost in the high ridges, which overhung it. No deception was ever more complete; for long ranks of soldiers seemed drawn up, marching and countermarching in all directions, with great regularity. It looked as if the genius of the place had embodied his forces, to bar all access to his gloomy dominions. And it was only as the day advanced, and as we approached the shore, that our formidable enemy assumed the peaceable shape of countless flocks of birds, of the heron species, who, the Arabs say, come to pass the night upon the sand, and in the day seek their food among the reptiles in the mountains. The immensity of their numbers exceeded all imagination; and, if the regions of Palestine are fertile in nothing else, they must be most prolific in snakes, if the Arab natural historian may be trusted. And this is the Dead Sea, and below these dark waters are the sites, perhaps the ruins of Sodom and Gomorrah, such as "when the smoke of the country went up, as the smoke of a furnace." There is a tale, that nothing living, not even a bird, can ever cross this sea. But there is no need of imaginary stories to heighten the desolation of the scene, and we, as well as other travellers, can testify to its inaccuracy, by our

own observation's. We believe, however, that its waters are unfavorable to animal life; and, though a shell or two may be occasionally picked up upon the shore, yet these have been probably brought down by the Jordan. The water is excessively bitter and nauseous; and, if additional evidence were wanting, we also could testify to its great gravity, and to the buoyancy of the human body, when immersed in it. It is only by much exertion, and for a very short time, that any one can get and remain below the surface.

We went from here to the Jordan, and struck the river, where tradition says, the children of Israel passed over, when they first entered the Land of Promise. On the west side is a low bottom, and on the east a high sandy bluff, and the shores of the river are covered with aquatic bushes. The water was thick and turbid, and the current rapid, and too deep to be sounded, "for Jordan overflowed all his banks, all the time of harvest." And here crossed the Jewish nation, over this turbulent stream, "on dry ground, until all the people were passed clean over Jordan." And we followed their route to Jericho, the frontier city of the Canaanites, where "the people shouted with a great shout, that the wall fell down flat, so that the people went up into the city, every man straight before him, and they took the city." There is no city now to take, nor are there any walls now to fall. There are a few miserable hovels, made of rude stones and mud, and the ruined walls of a building of the middle ages, where the wretched Arabs burrow, rather than live. Jericho has disappeared as completely as her rival cities, which sunk before the wrath of the Almighty. And it requires an effort to be satisfied, that here the great miracle, which attended the entrance of the Jews into Canaan, was performed, though the truth of the denunciation is before the eyes of the traveller; "Cursed be the man before the Lord, that raiseth up and buildeth this city Jericho."

But the length of our article admonishes us, that we must take leave of our interesting companion, and suffer him to wend his way alone to Beyroot, across the hills of Judea, or on the plains of Galilee. And, whatever region we may hereafter visit, we desire no more pleasant guide upon the route, nor a more attracting narrative to recall the mind and manners of the country, after exchanging the excitement of the actual journey for its calm retrospect in the closet.

W. Phillips.

ART. VI. Remarks on Literary Property. By PHILIP H. NICKLIN. Philadelphia. 1838. Nicklin & Johnson. 12mo. pp. 144.

It is universally admitted, that nothing is more manifestly one's own, than the products of his intellectual activity; and there is no species of the fruits of industry, of which the producer has a better title to the benefits;-and never, in the annals not only of legislation and jurisprudence, but also of robbery by sea or land, was a more dishonest and insolent sentence uttered, than that of Lord Camden in the House of Lords, in Great Britain, in the case of Donaldson versus Becket and Others, that "glory is the reward of science, and those who deserve it, scorn all meaner praise." For it was a reply to the author, who was asking for legal protection of his right to what was, by the universal law of nature, his, being the fruit of his labor; and to whom his Lordship, wielding his fraction of parliamentary omnipotence, says, "I take it away from you, and confiscate it to the public use, because you have received an adequate consideration for its value, in the reputation of having produced it." It is as if a martyr, appealing to the justice of a tyrant, should be told, that the crown of martyrdom was an adequate compensation for his life. It is a sheer and flagrant wrong, accompanied by deliberate mockery, that would be disgraceful, even to the red flag.

Among the objects for establishing social institutions, one is, the guaranty, to each member of the community, of his private, individual rights. If any one, by his industry, fabricates a utensil, or produces corn, the law protects him in the use and disposition of the product of his labor. But not so of the author. He, it seems, is an exception to the rule; and joins society, not as a party to the general bond, but as an outlaw, who is among us, but not of us; an infidel, to whom we good Christians, according to the old Roman Catholic doctrine, are not bound by any oath or compact, or a Jew, to raise contributions upon, and be despoiled. He is a man of too much glory to mind hunger; and so we take away his bread, he himself protesting all the while, that, maugre the glory, he, and his children too, must needs eat.