obliged to think of providing a lodging for the approaching night. We had attained the extreme upper ridge of the rocky crest, an elevation of 14,560 Paris feet above the level of the sea, (the height of the top of Mount Blanc,) and yet the summit of Ararat lay far above us. I do not think that any insurmountable obstacle could have impeded our farther progress, but to spend the few remaining hours of day light in reaching this point would have been worse than madness, as we had not seen any rock on the summit which could have afforded us protection during the night; independently of which, our stock of provisions was not calculated to last so long. Having made our barometrical observations, we turned back, satisfied from the result that the mountain on this side was not inaccessible. In descending, however, we met with a danger which we had not anticipated; for if in the descent of every mountain you tread less safely than in going up, it is still more difficult to tread firmly, when you look down upon such a surface of ice and snow as that over which we had to pass for more than a werst, and where, if we slipped and fell, there was nothing to stop us but the sharp-pointed masses of stone in which the region of eternal ice loses itself. The danger here is perhaps rather in the want of habit than in real difficulties. My young friend, whose courage had probably been proof against severer trials, lost his presence of mind here his foot slipped, and he fell; but, as he was about twenty paces behind me, I had time to thrust my pole firmly in the ice, to take a sure footing in my capital snow-shoes, and while I held the pole in my right hand, to catch him in passing with my left. My position was we'll chosen, but the straps which fastened my ice-shoes broke, and, instead of being able to stop my friend, I was carried with him in his fall. He was so fortunate as to be stopped by some stones, but I rolled on for half a werst, till I reached some fragments of lava near the lower glacier. The tube of my barometer was dashed to pieces -my chronometer burst open, and covered with bloodevery thing had fallen out of my pockets, but I escaped without severe injury. As soon as we had recovered from our fright, and thanked God for our providential escape, we collected the most important of our effects, and continued our journey. We were soon afterward delighted to hear the voice of our good Schak, who had very prudently waited for our return. Having made a fire, we passed the night in the grassy region, and on the third day reached the convent, where we were regaled with an excellent breakfast. We however took care not to tell the Armenians any thing about our accident, as they would certainly not have failed to ascribe it to a judgment from Heaven for our presumptuous attempt to reach the summit, which they say has been prohibited to mortals by a divine decree since the time of Noah. All the Armenians are firmly persuaded that Noah's ark exists to the present day on the summit of Mount Ararat, and that, in order to preserve it, no person is permitted to approach it. We learn the grounds of this tradition from the Armenian chronicles in the legend of a monk of the name of James, who was afterward Patriarch of Nissibus, and a contemporary and relative of St. Gregory. It is said that this monk, in order to settle the disputes which had arisen respecting the credibility of the sacred books, especially with reference to their account of Noah, resolved to ascend to the top of Ararat to convince himself of the existence of the ark. At the declivity of the mountain, however, he had several times fallen asleep from exhaustion, and found on awaking that he had been unconsciously carried down to the point from which he first set out. God at length had compassion on his unwearied though fruitless exertions, and during his sleep sent an angel with the message, that his exertions were unavailing, as the summit was inaccessible; but as a reward for his indefatigable zeal, be sent him a piece of the ark, the very same which is now preserved as the most valuable relic in the cathedral of Etschmaidsin. The belief in the impossibility of ascending Mount Ararat has, in consequence of this tradition, which is sanctioned by the church, almost become an article of faith, which an Armenian would not renounce even if he were placed in his own proper person upon the summit of the mountain.

[After recovering in some measure from the effects of his fall and an attack of fever which ensued, the professor set out on the 18th September to make a second at

tempt to gain the summit, taking with him a cross ten feet high, which it was proposed to set up on the top of the mountain, with an inscription in honour of Field Marsha Count Paskewitsch, by whose victories the Russian dominions had been extended to this point. They chose this time the northeast side of the mountain, by which the way was much longer, but not so steep. But as this second attempt also failed, we pass over the account of it, and proceed without further preface to the third, which succeeded. They however erected the cross on an almost horizontal surface covered with snow, at the height of 15,138 Paris feet above the level of the Euxine, or about 350 feet higher than the summit of Mount Blanc.]

In the meantime the sky cleared up, the air became serene and calm, the mountain too was more quiet, the noise occasioned by the falling of the masses of ice and snow grew less frequent-in short, every thing seemed to indicate that a favourable turn was about to take place in the weather, and I hastened to embrace it for a third attempt to ascend the mountain. On the 25th September I sent to ask Stepan whether he would join us, but he declined, saying that he had suffered too much from the former excursion to venture again so soon; he however promised to send us four stout peasants with three oxen and a driver. Early the next morning, four peasants made their appearance at the camp to join our expedition, and soon after a fifth, who offered himself voluntarily. To them I added two of our soldiers. The deacon again accompanied us, as well as Mr. Hehn, who wished to explore the vegetation at a greater elevation; but he did not intend to proceed beyond the line of snow. The experience of the preceding attempt had convinced me that every thing depended on our passing the first night as closely as possible to this boundary, in order to be able to ascend and return from the summit in one day, and to confine our baggage to what was absolutely necessary. We therefore took with us only three pxen, laden with the clothing, wood, and provisions. I also took a cross carved in oak. We chose our route towards the same side as before, and, in order to spare ourselves, Abowiam and I rode on horseback, wherever the rocky nature of the soil permitted it, as far as the grassy plain Kip-Giholl, whence we sent the horses back. Here Mr. Hehn parted from us. It was scarcely twelve o'clock when we reached this point, and, after taking our breakfast, we proceeded in a direction rather more oblique than on our former attempt. The cattle were, however, unable to follow us so quickly. We therefore halted at some rocks which it would be impossible for them to pass-took each our own share of clothing and wood, and sent back the oxen. At half-past five in the evening we were not far from the snow line, and considerably higher than the place where we passed the night on our previous excursion. The elevation at this point was 13,036 Paris feet above the level of the sea, and the large masses of rock determined me to take up our quarters here. A fire was soon made, and a warm supper prepared. I had some onion broth, a dish which I would recommend to all mountain travellers in preference to meat broth, as being extremely warm and invigorating. This being a fast-day, poor Abowiam was not able to enjoy it. The other Armenians, who strictly adhered to their rules of fasting, contented themselves with bread and the brandy which I distributed among them in a limited quantity, as this cordial must be taken with great caution, especially where the strength has been previously much tried, as it otherwise produces a sense of exhaustion and inclination to sleep. It was a magnificent evening, and, with my eyes fixed on the clear sky, and the lofty summit which projected against it, and then again on the dark night which was gathering far below and around me, I experienced all those delightful sensations of tranquillity, love, and devotion, that silent reminiscence of the past, that subdued glance into the future, which a traveller never fails to experience when on lofty elevations, and under pleasing circumstances. I laid myself down under an overhanging rock of lava, the temperature of the air at 4 1-2 degrees, which was tolerably warm, considering our great height.

At daybreak we rose, and began our journey at half past six. We crossed the last broken declivities in half an hour, and entered the boundary of eternal snow nearly at the same place as in our preceding ascent. In consequence of the increased warmth of the weather, the new-fallen

snow, which had facilitated our progress on our previous ascent, had melted away, and again frozen, so that, in spite of the still inconsiderable slope, we were compelled to cut steps in the ice. This very much embarrassed our advance, and added greatly to our fatigue. One of the peasants had remained behind in our resting-place, as he felt unwell; two others became exhausted in ascending the side of the glacier. They at first lay down, but soon retreated to our quarters. Without being disheartened by these difficulties, we proceeded, and soon reached the great cleft which marks the upper edge of the declivity of the large glacier, and at ten o'clock we arrived at the great plain of snow which marks the first break on the icy head of Ararat. At the distance of a werst, we saw the cross which we had reared on the 19th of September, but it appeared to me so extremely small, probably on account of its black colour, that I almost doubted whether I should be able to find it again with an ordinary telescope from the plain of the Araxes. In the direction towards the summit, a shorter but at the same time a steeper declivity than the one we had passed lay before us; and between this and the extreme summit there appeared to be only one small hill. After a short repose we passed the first precipice, which was the steepest of all, by hewing out steps in the rock, and after this the next elevation. But here, instead of seeing the ultimate goal of all our difficulties, immediately before us appeared a series of hills, which even concealed the summit from our sight. This rather abated our courage, which had never yielded for a moment so long as we had all our difficulties in view, and our strength, exhausted by the labour of hewing the rock, seemed scarcely commensurate with the attainment of the now invisible object of our wishes. But a review of what had been already accomplished, and of that which might still remain to be done, the proximity of the series of projecting elevations, and a glance at my brave companions, banished my fears, and we boldly advanced. We crossed two more hills, and the cold air of the summit blew towards us. I stepped from behind one of the glaciers, and the extreme cone of Ararat lay distinctly before my enraptured eyes. But one more effort was necessary. Only one other icy plain was to be ascended, and at a quarter past three on the 27th of September, O. S., 1829, we stood on the summit of Mount Ararat! [Having thus happily accomplished his fatiguing and perilous enterprise, says the Review, our author's first wish and enjoyment was repose; he spread his cloak on the ground, and sitting down, contemplated the boundless but desolate prospect around him. He was on a slight convex, almost circular, platform, about 200 Paris feet in diameter, which at the extremity declines pretty steeply on all sides, particularly towards the S. E. and N. E.; it was the silver crest of Ararat, composed of eternal ice, unbroken by a rock or stone. Towards the east, the summit declined more gently than in any other direction, and was connected by a hollow, likewise covered with perpetual ice, with another rather lower summit, which by Mr. Federow's trigonometrical measurement was found to be 187 toises distant from the principal summit. On account of the immense distances nothing could be seen distinctly. The whole valley of the Araxes was covered with a gray mist, through which Erivan and Sardarabad appeared as small dark spots; to the south were seen more distinctly the hills behind which lies Bayazeed; to the N. W. the ragged top of Alaghes, covered with vast masses of snow, probably an inaccessible summit; near to Ararat, especially to the S. E. and at a great distance towards the west, are numerous small conical hills, which look like extinct volcanoes; to the E. S. E. was little Ararat, whose head did not appear like a cone, as it does from the plain, but like the top of a square truncated pyramid, with larger and smaller rocky elevations on the edges and in the middle; but what very much surprised Professor Parrot was to see a large portion of Lake Goktschai, which appeared in the N. E. like a beautiful shining dark blue patch, behind the lofty chain of mountains which encloses it on the south, and which is so high that he never could have believed that he should have been able from the top of Ararat to see over its summit into the lake behind it. Mr. Parrot, having allowed himself time to enjoy this prospect, proceeded to observe his barometer, which he placed precisely in the middle of the summit. The mercury was no higher than 15 inches 3 4 of a line Paris measure, the tempera

ture being 3 7-10ths below the freezing point of the centri grade thermometer. By comparing this observation with that which Mr. Federow made at the same time at the convent of St. James, the elevation of the summit appears to be 10,272 Paris feet above the convent, and, adding to that the height of the latter, the top of Ararat is 16,254 Paris feet, nearly five wersts, above the level of the sea. While the professor was engaged in his observations, the deacon planted the cross, not precisely on the summit, where it could not have been seen from the plain, as it was only five feet high, but on the N. E. edge, about thirty feet lower than the centre of the summit. The professor and his five companions, viz. the deacon, two Russian soldiers, and two Armenian peasants, having remained three quarters of an hour on the summit, commenced their descent, which was very fatiguing; but they hastened, as the sun was going down, and before they reached the place where the great cross was erected, it had already sunk below the horizon.]

It was a glorious sight to behold the dark shadows which the mountains in the west cast upon the plain, and then the profound darkness which covered all the valleys, and gradually rose higher and higher on the sides of Ararat, whose icy summit was still illuminated by the beams of the setting sun. But the shadows soon passed over that also, and would have covered our path with a gloom that would have rendered our descent dangerous, had not the sacred lamp of night, opportunely rising above the eastern horizon, cheered us with its welcome beams.

[Having passed the night on the same spot as on their ascent, where they found their companions, they arrived the next day at noon, at the Convent of St. James, and on the following day, Sunday, the 28th of September, O. S., they offered their grateful thanksgiving to Heaven for the success of their arduous enterprise, perhaps not far from the spot where "Noah built an altar to the Lord."] Ver. 11. And the dove came in to him in the evening, and, lo, in her mouth was an olive leaf plucked off. So Noah knew that the waters were abated from off the earth.

The olive may be justly considered as one of the most valuable gifts which the beneficent Creator has bestowed on the human family. The oil which it yields, forms an important article of food; it imparts a greater degree of pliancy to the limbs, and agility to the whole body; it assuages the agonizing pain, and promotes, by its sanative influence, the cure of wounds; it alleviates the internal sufferings produced by disease; it illumines, at once, the cottage and the palace; it cheers, by the splendour of its combustion, the festive meeting; it serves to expel the deadly poison of venomous reptiles; it was used in consecrating a thing to the service of God; and it mingled, perhaps, from the first of time, by the command of Heaver, with many of the bloodless oblations which the worshipper presented at his altar. In these various and important uses, we may, perhaps, discover the true reason that the dove of Noah was directed, by God himself, to select the olive leaf from the countless variety which floated on the subsiding waters of the deluge, or bestrewed the slimy tops and declivities of Ararat, as the chosen symbol of returning peace and favour. From the creation of the world, the fatness of this tree signally displayed the divine goodness and benignity; and since the fall of man, it symbolizes the grace and kindness of our heavenly Father, and the precious influences of the Holy Ghost, in healing the spiritual diseases of our degenerate race, and in counteracting the deadly poison of moral corruption. Hence, the people of Israel were commanded to construct their booths, at the feast of tabernacles, partly with branches of olive; and all the nations of the civilized world were secretly directed, by the overruling providence of Heaven, to bear them in their hands as emblems of peace and amity. The olive is mentioned as the sign of peace, by both Livy and Virgil, in several parts of their works, but one instance from the latter shall suffice.

"Tum pater Æneas puppi sic fatur ab alta
Paciferæque manu ramum pretendit olive."
En. b. viii. 1. 116.

The celebrated navigator, Captain Cook, found that green branches, carried in the hands, or stuck in the

Ver. 3. And they said one to another, Go to, let us make brick, and burn them thoroughly. And they had brick for stone, and slime had they for mortar.

The soil of ancient Assyria and Babylonia consists of a fine clay, mixed with sand, with which, as the waters of the river retire, the shores are covered. This compost, when dried by the heat of the sun, becomes a hard and solid mass, and forms the finest material for the beautiful bricks for which Babylon was so celebrated. We all put to the test the adaptation of this mud for pottery, by taking some of it while wet from the bank of the river, and then moulding it into any form we pleased. Having been exposed to the sun for half an hour, it became as hard as stone. These remarks are important, as the indications of buildings throughout this region are different from those of other countries, the universal substitution of brick for stone being observable in all the numerous ruins we visited, including those of the great cities of Seleucia, Ctesiphon, and of the mighty Babylon herself, for which we have the authority of Scripture, that her builders "had brick for stone, and slime had they for mortar." In consequence of this circumstance, the ruins now before us, which our guide called Mumliheh, instead of showing fragments of pillars, or any marks by which we might conjecture the order of architecture, exhibit an accumulation of mounds, which, on a dead flat, soon attract the eye of a traveller, and have at first sight the appearance of sandy hillocks. On a nearer inspection they prove to be square -masses of brick, facing the cardinal points, and, though sometimes much worn by the weather, built with much regularity; the neighbourhood of these large mounds is strewed with fragments of tile, broken pottery, and manufactured vitreous substances. Coins, the incontestible proofs of former population, are generally to be found. In this place, they are so abundant, that many persons come from Bagdad in the dry season to search for them. Aboo Nasir told us, that some time ago he found a pot full of coins, and Mr. Hart picked up two, with apparently Cufic inscriptions, but their characters were not very decipherable. Near the place where they were found, was the fragment of a vessel which had possibly contained them.-KEPPEL.

Ver. 4. And they said,, Go to, let us build us a
city, and a tower, whose top may reach unto
heaven; and let us make us a name,
lest we
be scattered abroad upon the face of the whole
earth.

The words in which they couched their daring resolution, “Let us build us a city, and a tower, whose top may reach unto heaven," mean no more than a tower of extraordinary height. Such phrases may be found in every language; and their meaning can scarcely be misunderstood. When the messengers whom Moses employed to examine the land of Canaan, returned and made their report, they described the cities which they had visited, as great and walled up to heaven: and Moses himself, in his farewell address to the congregation, repeats it; "Hear, O Israel, thou art to pass over Jordan this day, to go in to possess nations greuer and mightier than thyself, cities great and fenced up to heaven." The meaning of these phrases plainly is, that the walls of those cities were uncommonly strong and lofty. That the builders of Babel meant no more, is further evident from the words of Jehovah, recorded by Moses. "Now nothing will be restrained from them which they have imagined to do." It is here plainly admitted, that the design was practicable, and had been accomplished, if God had not thought proper to interrupt their operations. But to build a tower, the top of which should actually reach unto heaven, is beyond the power of mortals. The opinion of Josephus is not much incre reasonable; that their design was to raise a tower higher far than the summits of the highest mountains, to defend therm from the waters of a second flood, of which they were afraid. Had this been their design, they would

have commenced their operations on the level plain, bet on the top of Ararat, where the ark rested. They had

the

emn promise of Jehovah, that he would no more

destroy the earth by water; and beheld the ratification of it in the radiant bow of heaven, placed in the cloud to quiet the fears of guilty mortals. If the Noachida had distrusted the promise and sign of heaven, they had not descended from the mountains, where only they could hope for safety from the strength and height of their tower, into the plains of Babylonia, and fixed their abode between two mighty rivers, to whose frequent inundations that province is exposed. Nor could they be so infatuated as to imagine, that a tower constructed of bricks, whether hardened in the sun, or burnt in the fire, could resist the waters of a general deluge, whose impetuous assault, as they must have well known, the strong barriers of nature could hardly endure. Equally inadmissible is the notion, that they constructed this tower to defend them from the general conflagration, of which they are supposed to have received some obscure and imperfect notices; for in the destruction of the world, who could hope to find safety in the recesses of a tower, or on the summit of the mountains? they would rather seek for refuge from the devouring element, in the profound caverns of the earth.

But it is vain to indulge in conjectures, when the true reason is clearly stated in the page of inspiration: "Let us build us a city, and a tower, whose top may reach unto heaven; and let us make us a name, lest we be scattered abroad upon the face of the whole earth." These words clearly show, that their object in building the tower was, to transmit a name illustrious for sublime conception and bold undertaking, to succeeding generations. In this sense, the phrase, to make one's self a name, is used in other parts of Scripture. Thus, "David gat him a name when he returned from smiting of the Syrians in the valley of salt;" and the prophet informs us, that the God of Israel "led them by the right hand of Moses, with his glorious arm dividing the waters before them, to make himself an everlasting name." They seem also to have intended it as a beacon or rallying point, to their increasing and naturally diverging families, to prevent them from separating in the boundless wilderness into independent and hostile societies. This may be inferred from these words, in which they further explain the motive of their undertaking: lest we be scattered abroad on the face of the whole earth." They seem to have anticipated the necessity, and dreaded the consequences of dispersion; and, like all who seek to avert evil by unlawful means, they hastened, by the rash and impious measure which they adopted, the very mischief they sought to avoid. To build a city and a tower was certainly no crime; but to do this with a view merely to transmit an illustrious name to posterity, or to thwart the counsels of heaven, was both foolish and wicked, and justly excited the displeasure of the supreme Judge, who requires his rational creatures to acknowledge and to glorify him in all their undertakings.

It is by no means improbable that this tower was also intended for idolatrous purposes. The worship of fire began in a very remote age, and most probably under the direction and among the rebellious followers of Nimrod. This idea receives no small confirmation from the numerous fire towers which in succeeding ages were built in Chaldea, where the sacred fire was kept, and the religious rites in honour of the sun were celebrated. If this conjecture be well founded, it accounts in the most satisfactory manner, for the sudden and effectual dispersion of the builders, visibly and strongly marking the first combined act of idolatry after the flood, of which we have any notice, with the displeasure of the true God. Guilty of the same crime which procured the sudden dispersion of the first settlers at Babel, was the restorer of that great city, when he proudly boasted, "Is not this great Babylon which I have builded for the house of the kingdom, by the might of my power, and for the honour of my majesty:" and he was instantly visited with a similar punishment, but proportioned to the greater enormity of his transgression; for the place should have reminded him of the sin and punishment of his forefathers, and taught him to guard against the pride and vanity of his heart. Nebuchadnezzar was, for his wicedness, driven from his throne and kingdom, to dwell with the beasts of the field, and eat grass like oxen, "till seven times passed over him;" till the sun had seven times passed over his appointed circuit, and he had learned "that the most High ruleth in the kingdom of men, and giveth it to whomsoever he will." But his irreligious ancestors were

punished with dispersion, by confounding their language. Till this memorable event, the inspired writer assures us, the whole earth was of one language and one speech. When Jehovah came down to see the tower which the Babylonians were building, he said, "Behold, the people is one, and they have all one language." They formed one great society, and conversed in the tongue which they had learned from those who lived before the flood; and which was the only language spoken on earth from the beginning of the world: for no hint of any confusion of language, or even material diversity of specch, before the building of Babel, is given in the sacred volume. It is exceedingly natural to suppose, that the devout Seth, and his religious descendants, would preserve with care the family tongue in which God conversed with their renowned father; in which the first promise was given to sinners, and many subsequent revelations were made. The language of our fathers is not easily charged, if we were so disposed; but no man is willing to change it; and a religious man will be yet more averse to relinquish a language which contains the only grounds of his hope, and that of the whole human race. We may therefore conclude, that since this language had so many claims on the affectionate care of Seth, he would certainly hand it down, with the gospel it contained, to his children, that they might teach it to succeeding generations, till it was received by his celebrated descendant Noah, the second father of our family. For the same reasons, which were daily receiving additional strength, Shem would preserve with pious care the sacred deposit, till he delivered it into the hands of Abraham, with whom he lived about two hundred years. The line of descent, by which the primitive language might be transmitted from Adam to Abraham, and from this patriarch to Moses, is short and straight; for between Adam and Noah were only eight persons, and the father of Noah was fifty-six years old when Adam died. The only interruption is the confusion of tongues, which happened after the flood. But though God confounded the speech of mankind at Babel, it is not said he extinguished the general language; nor that he confounded the speech of any but the colony at Babel. These only were in the transgression, and, therefore, these only were liable to the punishment. Noah, and the rest of his family, persevering in their dutiful obedience to God, undoubtedly retained their language, together with their ancient habitations. It may be urged that, by the testimony of Moses, the Lord confounded at Babel, "the language of all the earth." But the plain of Shinar could, with no propriety, be called the whole earth; nor could the inhabitants of Shinar, by any figure of speech, be entitled to that name. If mankind were in possession of a great part of the globe when the tower was built, by what rule of justice could they be punished for a crime in which they had no share, and of which multitudes of the distant settlers could not even have heard? "Shall not the Judge of all the earth do right?" The truth of this history depends upon two terms, which admit of different senses. In the first verse of the eleventh chapter of Genesis, the sacred historian says, The whole earth was of one language and of one speech. The word () Col, signifies the whole, and also every; by (P) Arets, is often meant the earth, it also signifies a land or province; and occurs frequently in this latter acceptation. In this very chapter, the region of Shinar is called Arets Shinar, the land or province of Shinar; and the land of Canaan, Arets Canaan, the country of Canaan. The psalmist uses both terms in precisely the same sense : "Their sound is gone out into every land," Col Arets. The words of Moses, then, ought to be rendered, Therefore is the name of it called Babel; because the Lord did there confound the language of the whole land. If this view of the text be just, the dispersion was a partial event, and related chiefly to the sons of Cush, whose intention was to found a great, if not a universal empire; but by this judgment their purpose was defeated. The language of the whole country, Mr. Bryant thinks, was confounded, by causing a labial failure, so that the people could not articulate. It was not an aberration, in words or language, but a failure and incapacity in labial utterance; for God said, "Go to, let us go down and confound, D, their lip, that they may not understand one another's speech." By this, their speech was confounded, but not altered; for, as soon as they separated, they recovered the true tenor of pronunciation; and the language of the earth continued,

for some ages, nearly the same. This appears, from many interviews between the Hebrews, and other nations, in which they spoke without an interpreter. Thus, when Abraham left his native country to sojourn in the land of promise, he conversed with the natives in their own laı guage, without difficulty, though they were the descendants of Canaan, who, for his transgression at Babel, was driven, by the divine judgments, from the chosen residence of his family. The Hebrew language, indeed, seems to have been the vernacular tongue of all the nations in those parts of the world; for the patriarchs, and their descendants, so late as the days of Moses and Joshua, conversed familiarly with the inhabitants of Midian and Canaan, without the help of interpreters.-PAXTON.

CHAP. 13. ver. 3. And he went on his journeys from the south even to Beth-el, unto the place where his tent had been at the beginning, between Beth-el and Hai.

Abraham, and the other patriarchs, led a wandering shepherd's life in tents, such as the Arabs, Turcomans, and numerous tribes of eastern Asia, lead to this day in the same countries. Divided into tribes, they traverse immense tracts with their numerous herds, consisting of camels, oxen, and especially sheep and goats; and when the pasture of a district is exhausted, the tents are taken down, and the whole family, or the whole tribe, removes to another spot. "Each of these tribes," says Volney, "of the Bedouin Arabs appropriates to itself a certain tract, which it considers as its property. They differ from agricultural nations only so far, as such tracts must be far more extensive to procure subsistence for their flocks all the year round. One man's camps distributed over such a tract, form a tribe; they traverse the whole in succession, as they have consumed with their flocks the pastures in one place." The following account by PARSONS (Travels from Aleppo to Bagdad, p. 109) of the movement of an Arab horde, is illustrative of the manners of the old patriarchs. "It was entertaining enough to see the horde of Arabs decamp,' as nothing could be more regular. First went the sheep and goatherds, each with their flocks in divisions, according as the chief of each family directed; then followed the camels and asses, loaded with the tents, furniture, and kitchen utensils; these were followed by the old men, women, boys, and girls, on foot. The children that cannot walk are carried on the backs of the young women, or the boys and girls; and the smallest of the lambs and kids are carried under the arms of the children. To each tent belong many dogs, among which are some greyhounds; some tents have from ten to fourteen dogs, and from twenty to thirty men, women, and children, belonging to it. The procession is closed by the chief of the tribe, whom they call emir and father, (emir means prince,) mounted on the very best horse, and surrounded by the heads of each family, all on horses, with many servants on foot. Between each family is a division or space of one hundred yards, or more, when they migrate; and such great regularity is observed, that neither camels, asses, sheep, nor dogs, mix, but each keeps to the division to which it belongs, without the least trouble. They had been here eight days, and were going four hours journey to the northwest, to another spring of water. This tribe consisted of about eight hundred and fifty men, women, and children. Their flocks of sheep and goats were about five thousand, besides a great number of camels, horses, and asses. Horses and greyhounds they breed and train up for sale: they neither kill nor sell their ewe lambs. At set times a chapter in the Koran is read by the chief of each family, either in or near each tent, the whole family being gathered round, and very attentive."

The Compte de FERRIERES SAUVEBOEUF describes the manner of an Arab horde moving to a fresh pasturage. "Their wandering life, without ambition, brings to the mind of the traveller that of the ancient patriarchs. Nothing is more interesting than their manner of changing their abode. Numerous flocks, which precede the caravan. express by their bleating, their je at returning to their old pastures. Some beasts of burden, guided by the young men, bear the little ones just dropped, and not able to travel; then come the camels carrying the baggage, and the