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the Deckan, the stately owner of those noblest of nature's coiffures,in the pursuit of whom, ravines and water-courses, steeps and valleys, rocks and nullahs, grow into level grounds. Again, in grasping yonder tusk of an enormous wild boar, which he himself plucked from its fearful dwelling-place, does he not almost feel (as he did in reality when he obtained that trophy of his sporting prowess) the hot breath of the “ig-noble savage," as he lay un horsed beside him, covered with his blood and that of his noble steed, who was disabled by a desperate wound given in the death-struggle by the expiring monster.
To change the scene in correspondence with the varied spirit of the work-on the opposite wall hangs the small and delicate antlers of the Spanish roebuck, and over them the short couteau-de-chasse, the broad Calanen (vulgo Castor), and the brilliantly embroidered bottinas, calling to mind his exploits in the rugged Sierras and gloomy cork woods of Andalusia; just as the margrabin haick, which forms part of the author's ordinary home costume, as he glances down towards it, carries him to “ Numidia's burning sands," and his "experiences" among the wild descendants of her sons ; and the spoils of the sylphlike gazelle bring back the Desert of Lybia, and the “desert ship" that bore him safely over them; while the crucifix and rosary that hang beside them, lead him at last to the Sacred Mount, where he earns the Hadjees honours and privileges.
Such, and such-like, are the hints on which this pleasant, howbeit, somewhat desultory work is written, and those must be more critical readers than the critics themselves, who do not find infinite amusement in its infinitely varied, and (we have no doubt whatever) perfectly authentic and unadorned details. It opens with “ The Sportsman Afloat,” which gives us the incidents of a voyage from the coast of Coromandel to Bordeaux, touching and sporting at the Isle of France, the Cape, St. Helena, &c. We are then suddenly transported from the city of Cork (vid Gibraltar) to the Andalusian Forest of the same name, in which we are treated to all sorts of runs with the Calpe foxhounds, in company with Prince George of Cambridge, who was at the period in question in garrison there, and to whom the book is addressed.
Then follows an excursion to the opposite coast of Africa, in which there is little sporting but much amusement; and the first volume closes with “ A Few Days Sporting in Barbary," as enjoyed and described by a friend of the author.
The second volume, which is at least equally pregnant with the first, opens at Malta, of which we have many novel and amusing details. Thence we have an interesting excursion to Gozo, or Ogygia—the farfamed Isle of Calypso-to whose grotto we are introduced, and may (if we can) fancy ourselves sitting on the very spots where the wise Ulysses whiled away, at the feet of the fascinating goddess, seven years, that were perchance not the least wise among his mortal hours.
Finally, we are taken to Egypt and the Holy Land, and told about them a vast number of anecdotes and experiences that, although they are infinitely too desultory, personal, and unconnected to serve as a “ Handbook” to those scenes, have, en revanche, a life and a reality that are worth the best handbook in Mr. Murray's list—which is saying a bold word.
NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE.
THE WEDDING-DAY; OR, THE BUCCANEER’S CURSE.
A FAMILY LEGEND,
BY THOMAS INGOLDS BY.
The main incident recorded in the following excerpta from our family papers has but too solid a foundation. The portrait of Roger Ingoldsby is not among those in the gallery, but I have some recollection of having seen, when a boy, a picture answering the description here given of him, much injured, and lying without a frame in one of the attics.
It has a jocund sound,
As from the old and ivied tower,
Its merry, merry round;
And the Song-bird, on the spray,
It has a joyous sound !!
Dight in white,
A comely sight,
Of that “ Limbo of Infants," ihe National School,
Whooping, and bawling,
And jumping, and leaping,
Laughing and gay,
A gorge deployée-
Ah, well a-day!
Little deem they,
Are any thing else
Than mere Parish bells,
That the clappers and ropes
Are mere practical tropes Of “ trumpets” and “tongues," and of “preachers," and popes, Unless Clement the fourth's worthy Chaplain, Durand, err, See the “ Rationale," of that Goosey-gander.
Gently! gently, Miss Muse!
Mind your P's and your Q's !
And as, on the whole,
You must never enact such a pitiful rôle.
And see !--the avenue gates unfold,
And forth they pace, that bridal train,
A fairer or a gentler She,
Man's eye might never hope to see,