then, however, Ahasuerus is discovered; he speaks to them of a better world, and assists them to escape from the churchyard when a crowd of people are heard approaching, headed by "the Antichrist." Who this Antichrist may be is not explicitly defined; but this personage and the Wandering Jew enter into a long theological discussion, which is at length broken in upon by some unearthly sound.

The Antichrist, gazing wildly round, exclaims:

Whence come these tones?

Ahasuerus.

Hark! From the sky

Yes! 'Tis the trumpet's call,

Seek grace in time-ere Time shall die!
Antichrist. The trumpet's blast?
Ahasuerus.

That to the judgment-seat doth summon all!

The Antichrist, muttering in deep dismay "The trumpet's call !" takes

to flight, and Ahasuerus sinks on his knees.

with the trumpet in the air, and it says:

Then a voice is heard along

Kneel-kneel, oh earth! Thy glory and thy pride
In dust and ashes clad-oh, cast aside!

See-angel-hosts who on the Judge attend,
'Midst clouds from heaven descend!

It calls on the ambitious and haughty in spirit to give up their plans for the acquisition of worldly honour, and to awaken from their vain dreams. It cites the guilty to come forth from their dark concealment, and from the hidden haunts of vice; and commands that the passions, and feelings, and most secret thoughts of all should be made manifest in the clear and blazing light of eternity. It calls on the pale spectral forms of the dead to arise from the grave, and gathering their mouldering or mouldered bones, to stand before the Almighty. It bids the world to pause in its course, the fountain of life to cease to flow, and time to arrest its flight; and it decrees the cessation of every sound except That trumpet's tones

Which peal from yonder everlasting zones.

This celestial summons is a fine portion of the drama, and is not far inferior to Campbell's celebrated poem, "The Last Man."

Our author, however, notwithstanding the Archangel's command, does not permit all sounds to be immediately silenced by the overpowering blast of the fatal trumpet, for a dark shadow is seen to arise from a grave of apparently very ancient date, and it is recognised as Pontius Pilate by his contemporary, the ever-living Jew. A conversation, filling eighteen or nineteen pages, ensues, in the course of which Pilate demands from his mundane friend the fate of Judæa and of Rome; and is surprised to find that he has been wrapt in the oblivion of death for more than a thousand years. Still more amazed is he to hear of the long life that the shoemaker of Jerusalem had endured, not enjoyed; and he is astounded when informed that Jesus of Nazareth-whom he had condemned to be put to death on the cross--he who had borne the crown of thorns-was indeed the Christ. Pilate hears with intense terror that He is coming to judge the world; and again, as of old, asks, “What is truth ?"

To this the aged Jew-or Christian, as he would be more correctly

termed-replies, "Christ is truth!" Ahasuerus then inquires of Pontius Pilate with eager curiosity about death and the grave. Pilate at length vanishes, and presently after a spirit appears, to whom Ahasuerus addresses the same anxious question, "What is death?" And the spirit tells him :

It is a sleep which knows no dream-
A deep, unbroken, calm repose-
Where neither thought nor image glows,
But in the mind ideas seem

Extinguished; and no visions sweep
Before the rayless eye-the ear
Catches no sound. No joy-no fear
Can break on that mysterious sleep
Whose continuity no time

Can e'er exhaust. Yet it is rife
With the blest germ of future life

Which God will perfect in yon worlds sublime.

The spirit assures Ahasuerus that they shall meet in the invisible world, and, disappearing, leaves him much comforted. He then wanders on farther among the graves, and comes suddenly on one that is open, as it were, ready to receive him. Not appalled by its depth and gloom, he looks wistfully into it; and after again praying for pardon, and to be released from the burden of life, he is about to descend into the grave, when he hears a chorus of angels singing:

Close at length thy weary eyes,
To ope them far above yon skies.
Thy long probation now is over,
Winged cherubs round thee hover
Thy parting spirit to convey
Upwards, on its Heaven-bound way.
Angels from that heaven are nigh
To receive thy latest sigh.

Thy life, at length, is at an end,

Death waits thee like a welcome friend.

Thou mayst at length sink into rest

Till in the regions of the blest,

From earth, the grave, and death set free-
Thou enterest Eternity!

The angel choir still sing; but the voices seem more remote, and become fainter and fainter. The old man steps into the grave, and chanting a hymn to the Redeemer who had mercifully withdrawn the curse from him-who had opened the grave for him-and permitted him at length, through the silent gates of death, to pass to eternal reposehe dies-with these last words on his lips.

He

The Danish poet has done wisely in not presuming to follow "den Evige Jöde" beyond the termination of his fearful mortal career. has done well in not attempting, like M. Edgar Quinet, to portray the last judgment, and to put the words of a finite being into the mouth of the Almighty. The most elevated sentiments-the most lofty diction, of which the human mind and human language are capable, would not be equal to this flight of the imagination; and Paludan-Müller does not the less evince the power of his genius by showing his knowledge that in this world it must be-THUS FAR SHALT THOU GO, AND NO FARTHER.

TROPICAL SCENERY-BRITISH GUIANA.*

Ir is surprising how little is known of British Guiana. A distinguished statesman actually spoke, not a very long time back, of this important continental colony as an island! Sir Robert Schomburgk (who if he did not discover, at least was the first to bring home, that pride of its waters, the Victoria Regia) has done most in modern times towards making us acquainted with the interior of the country; but his valuable papers are chiefly consigned to the pages of the journal of a learned society. Take up any modern work on geography and you will find something to the following effect:-"The whole coast is so flat, that it is scarcely visible till the shore has been touched; the tops of the trees only are seen, and even seem to be growing out of the sea,-nothing of varied scenery is presented to the eye,-little is beheld but water and woods, which seem to conceal every appearance of land. The same sombre and monotonous appearance is presented in the interior to those few curious individuals who have endeavoured to penetrate into those recesses of the forest, by the numerous openings which nature has made by the streams which successively augment the Corentin, the Berbice, the Demerara, and the Essequebo."

Such a picture of Guiana is perhaps the least correct that could be possibly given. True it is that this extensive territory is largely encircled and intersected by rivers, which present the almost unparalleled hydrographic phenomenon of flowing in almost uninterrupted communication throughout the land. The South American Indian, seated in his buoyant boat-the stripped bark of some forest tree-might have entered the broad mouth of the Amazon, and wending his solitary way along the southern boundary, have navigated the broad tributary stream of the river Negro, and ascending its waters along the western outline of this tract of country, persevered through the natural canal of Cassiquiare and the southern branches of the Orinoco until he reached that river; and here his course would be unbroken to the wide waters of the Atlantic, a few degrees higher to the north than where he commenced his voyage.

But, notwithstanding this peculiarity, the interior of Guiana presents a very diversified surface, and much and various contrasted configuration. Such ignorance of the country as would describe it either as an island or a mud-flat is now no longer tolerable. It was only so in times long gone by.

"Before the arrival of the European," says Dr. Dalton, "the lofty mountain heights of the interior, the fertile and undulating valleys of the hilly region, and the borders of the illimitable forests and savannahs, were alone tenanted by the various tribes of Indians who were scattered throughout this vast domain. Their fragile canoes were occasionally seen gliding along the large rivers and the numerous tributary streams which intersect the country; a dense mass of unrivalled foliage, comprising

The History of British Guiana; comprising a General Description of the Colony; a Narrative of some of the Principal Events from the Earliest Period of its Discovery to the Present Time; together with an Account of its Climate, Geology, Staple Products, and Natural History. By Henry G. Dalton, M.D., &c., &c. 2 vols. Longman, Brown, Green, and Longmans.

palms, mangroves, couridas and ferns, fringed the banks of the rivers and the margins of the coasts; while a thicker bush of an infinite variety of trees extended inland over an uncleared territory, where the prowling beast, the dreaded reptile, the wild bird, and the noxious insect roamed at large. But when colonisation commenced and civilisation progressed, the flat lands bordering on the coasts and rivers were cleared and cultivated, the savage forests and their occupants retreated before the encroaching step of civilisation and the march of industry, plantations were laid out, canals and trenches dug, roads formed, and houses raised over the level plain of alluvial soil, which, without a hill or elevation of any kind, stretches for many miles between the sand-hill regions and the Atlantic Ocean."

The land on the banks of the rivers and along the sea-coasts between the mouths of the rivers being entirely alluvial, the whole line of coast is skirted by mud-flats and sand-banks, soon to form themselves part of the great continent of South America. The alluvial soil thus deposited is covered with perennial foliage, nourished by the frequent rains and balmy atmosphere of the tropics. Hence the first indication of land is characterised by a long irregular outline of thick bush, on approaching which, groups of elevated trees, chiefly palms, with occasionally an isolated silk-cotton, or the tall chimneys of the sugar plantations, with the smoke curling upwards, begin rapidly to be recognised, and indicate to the experienced trader almost the very spot he has made. On nearing the land the range of plantations may be easily marked by the line of chimneys; the dense foliage of the coast partly intercepts the view of any buildings, the low ground being covered with mangroves and courida bushes, ferns, and other plants; but behind this wooded barrier numerous dwelling-houses, extensive villages, and the sugar manufactories, extend along the belt of land which, in an unbroken level, constitutes the cultivated districts of the colony.

"Once in sight of the land the scene rapidly changes in appearancefrom a long, low outline of bush to the different objects which characterise the attractive scenery of the tropics. The bright green palmtrees, with their huge leaves fanned briskly by the sea breeze, and the lofty silk-cotton-tree are plainly visible; while a confused, but picturesque group of trees and plants of tropical growth, with white and shining houses interspersed among them, present to the stranger rather the appearance of a large garden than the site of an extensive and busy city."

This low wooded alluvial tract extends inland to variable distances, from ten to forty miles, and is almost level throughout its whole extent. It is succeeded by a range of unproductive sand-hills and sand-ridges, which attain an elevation varying from 30 to 120 feet. These sand-hills repose upon rock, and beyond them the land is covered with trees and shrubs, constituting what is called "The Bush."

The mountains of British Guiana are so far removed from the coasts, and are so difficult of access, as to be rarely seen by the inhabitants. Yet are there many different ranges and groups, for the most part granitic, more or less wooded, and varying in elevation from one to four and even five thousand feet. Among them is the famous Roraima, or "red rock," a remarkable sandstone group which rises 7500 feet above the level of the sea, the upper 1500 feet presenting a mural precipice. These stupendous walls are as perpendicular as if erected with the plumb

line; nevertheless, in some parts they are overhung with low shrubs, while down their face rush numerous cascades, which, falling from this enormous height, flow in different directions to form the tributaries of three of the largest rivers in South America; namely, the Amazon, the Orinoco, and the Essequebo.

Romantic and poetical as are the sublimities of nature, they are duly appreciated by the Indians. Their traditions and songs bear constant allusion to this magnificent scenery. In their dances they sing of "Roraima, the red-rocked, wrapped in clouds, the ever fertile source of streams;" and in consequence of the darkness which frequently prevails when thick clouds hover about its summit, it is likewise called the Night Mountain; "of Roraima, the red-rocked, I sing, where with daybreak the night still prevails."

These mountain ranges are inhabited by various tribes of Indians, who live chiefly by hunting; and enclosed between the same rocky regions, the rest of the face of the country is marked by a few, but grand features -such as wide-spread savannahs, illimitable forests, undulating plains, and gigantic rivers.

There are several kinds of savannahs. Some are merely large tracts of swampy land, covered with tall rank grasses, the abode of reptiles and aquatic birds; but some of them are also well adapted for grazing. A second variety are more inland, of greater extent-extending to about 14,400 square miles-mountains surrounded, but also marshy, covered with grasses and a few stunted trees, traversed by tortuous streams whose course may often be traced afar off by an irregular row of trees, and with here and there tufts of trees like verdant isles in the plain.

66

Upon these savannahs is the celebrated lake Arnuch, whose waters during the season of inundation are said to flow eastward and westward, and which, according to Schomburgk, was once the bed of an inland lake, which, by one of those catastrophes of which even later times give us examples, broke its barrier, forcing for its waters a path to the Atlantic. May we not," inquires the same learned and enlightened explorer, "connect with the former existence of this inland sea the fable of the Lake Parima and the El Dorado? Thousands of years may have elapsed; generations may have been buried and returned to dust; nations who once wandered on its banks may be extinct, and even no more in name: still the tradition of the Lake Parima and the El Dorado survived these changes of time; transmitted from father to son, its fame was carried across the Atlantic, and kindled the romantic fire of the chivalrous Raleigh."

A third description of savannahs are of varying extent, but are marked by an entire absence of hills or irregularities of any kind; hence the term llanos, or plains, which have been applied to them by some. According to Humboldt, these savannahs, improperly called by some, prairies, are true steppes (llanos and pampas of South America). They present a rich covering of verdure during the rainy season, but in the months of drought the earth assumes the appearance of a desert. The turf becomes reduced to powder, the earth gapes in huge cracks. The crocodiles and great serpents lie in a dormant state in the dried mud, until the return of rains and the rise of the waters in the great rivers, which flooding the vast expanse of level surface, awake them from their slumbers. These sterile savannahs are the deserts of the American continent.

"Far different to the barren savannahs," Dr. Dalton remarks, 66 are