From Nature. appearance of rippled water where they A PETRIFIED FOREST IN THE LIBYAN reflect the sunlight. The zoology and DESERT. On the western horizon of the Libyan Desert, as viewed from the summit of the Great Pyramid of Ghizeh, a conical hill stands in solitary grandeur, far removed botany, too, of the desert are very inter"jerboa," a species of rat, with long hind esting. There are numbers of the little legs and long tail with a tuft of hair at its Now and then may be seen a gazelle or end, which hops about like a kangaroo. two scampering off at the unusual sight of a caravan. A few small birds get a pre from the route of desert travellers. This has long been supposed to be the ruins of a pyramid, yet nowhere is it recorded to have been visited by any but the Be-carious existence, and in the sky an eagle or vulture sometimes wings its way. The douin tribes who pass within a few miles insects are few, and the herbage is exof it, on the old caravan route to the Faioom. It is enumerated by Lepsius as one tremely scant, and it is a marvel what the animals live on. of the Pyramids of Egypt, and in a recent there in the water-courses small tufts There are here and work on the Great Pyramid it is called of camel-thorn-a little shrub not unDr. Leider's Pyramid, "until a better like a whin, another with a coral-like name be found for it," merely from its having been pointed out to the author by growth, and now and then a handful of a the late Dr. Leider of Cairo, who, how-tough wiry sort of grass, but what these again subsist on it is hard to say, for there ever, had never visited it. is not a shower more than once or twice The following narrative of a visit to the eminence by Mr. Waynman Dixon, engineer, and Dr. Grant of Cairo, and of their discovery of a very remarkable petrified forest near its base, whose gigantic trees lie scattered about the desert in profusion, has been communicated to us by the former gentleman : Leaving the pyramids behind and lighted by the clear silvery moonlight, we set out into the desert by the caravan route to the Faioom, leading up a solitary valley, in the rocks of which are cut ancient Egyptian tanks and mummy-pits. Presently we turn off from the regular track and take our way into the unfrequented desert, steering straight westward for the distant pyramidal hill. The sand of the desert is here hard and compact, and travelling easy, indeed, with the exception of one or two places where the sand is soft and heavy, a wheeled carriage might drive all the way, and to most travellers would be much preferable to camel or even donkey riding. After many hours hard riding, we at last reach the top of a slight eminence, and across the wide valley in front of us is the place of our destination. much of interest about them; throughout These long valleys, or "wadys," have may be seen the dry water-courses where the rare rain-showers carry down the sand into the bed, and leave all the little hills and eminences covered by flints as big as potatoes and with surfaces so brightly polished as to give the desert a silvery look by moonlight, or by day to cause the "Life and Work at the Great Pyramid," by Prof. Piazzi Smyth, F.R.S. a year, and for nine months there is no dew, while the heat of the sand at midday in summer is over 100 degrees. break, we dismount from our camels, and Arrived at our destination before daywhile the Bedouins are unloading the baggage, we hasten as fast as our legs, stiff with camel riding, will permit, up the the so-called Pyramid, to find on attainheaps of sand and flints to the summit of ing it that it is but the conical end of a and standing boldly out of the desert prism-shaped hill, stretching westward, plain. Near the top the rock crops out, and appears to be a species of friable sandstone fretted by the weather into curious with flints and sand, and, what strikes one shapes; but the actual summit is covered as being very strange, many fragments of petrified wood. Taking a general survey from this quoin of vantage, we choose the best spot to the north of the hill to pitch our camp, exposed to the slight north wind which blows incessantly here, and descending its steep sides, at the bottom are surprised to find near the chosen spot three large stone diameter at its widest end, and 2 ft. at its trees lying prostrate on the sand. The largest is 51 ft. in length and 3 ft. 6 in. in smallest; they are branching exogenous trees, apparently a species of pine, and the one before us has the fork of a large branch very complete. Wandering on up the wady to the north of the hill, named by us "Kôm el Kha -- shob the hill of wood we find the whole desert littered with fragments of petrified wood, from twigs the size of was held in solution in the water that 251 surrounded it. one's finger to pieces of large branches or trunks of trees; and on the flank of the hill to the north are hundreds of immense trees, lying half buried in the sand, some been visited by many Europeans in Cairo, Since the discovery of this forest it has 70 feet long, and in many instances with and English travellers, and to geologists part of the bark still attached. All of especially it is well worthy of a visit. It them are exogenous trees stance of a palm could we discover -no single in- may easily be reached from the Great from the absence of roots it may be pre- horse, and is distant under three hours and Pyramid either by donkey, camel, or sumed have been drifted here by the sea. from itThe stratum is apparently sandstone, may with comfort be accomplished in one a journey which in the winter Overlying the limestone of the Nile val- day from Cairo. Indeed, if his Highness, ley; there are also here and there patches the Khedive, who has done so much for of a dark chocolate-coloured friable min- the comfort of travellers in making a mageral with specks of green which looked nificent road to the pyramids, were to exlike copper, but proved on subsequent tend it for some half mile farther through analysis to be carbonate of iron; beds of the tract of soft sand, carriages could what the Arabs call "Gyps" or gypsum, easily drive all the way to the Kôm el and nodules of an intensely hard black Khashob. The locality is now well known granulated looking stone-not unlike to the Pyramid Arabs, and most able and emery stone. The whole geological char- intelligent guides will be found in Ali acter suggesting the-possibly delusive Dobree, Omar, or others of this Bedouin suspicion of the existence of coal under tribe. the surface. Having carefully surveyed this neighbourhood we again climbed the "Kôm el Khashob," taking instruments to measure its height and determine its position; the former of which we found to be 752 ft. above the Nile level at Cairo, 602 ft. above the north-east socket of the Great Pyramid, and consequently about 140 ft. higher than its summit. From The Spectator. ST. CHRYSOSTOM.* permanent interest and value in this Life Mr. STEPHENS has produced a work of and Times of Saint Chrysostom. He is seems almost inseparable from the office not, indeed, free from the fault which of biographer, the incapacity of putting himself in the position of those who disliked and opposed his hero. Whatever we may think of the virtues and the genius of Chrysostom, it is impossible but that the prelates who brought about his downfall should have had some way of justifying their conduct to the world and to themselves. Posterity has condemned them with unanimous voice, but it is incredible that the patriarch of a great see, backed by a majority of the bishops of at Having secured one or two sketches of the hill, and the sun being now near setting, we "fold up our tents like the Arabs and silently steal away." Mounting our camels again, and taking a slightly different route on our return, we pass some ancient solitary well-tombs away in the desert, but without mark or hieroglyphic inscription on them. All the way we notice fragments of petrified wood, and near to the pyramids extensive beds of oyster shells. This forest may almost be said to be a continuation-doubtless going much farther westward than we pene-least one province, should have had no trated of the well-known petrified forest in the Abbasieh Desert to the east of Cairo, which extends a long way in the direction of Suez, but is inferior both in extent and in the size and perfectness of the trees to that of the newly-discovered forest. The formation of the land here would lead to the supposition that it has been the ancient coast line, and that the trees drifted to where they are now found, and were then left in the briny waters of an evaporating sea or salt lake; and as the fibre of the wood decayed slowly away, the space of each cell has been filled up by the crystallizing silica which motives for their conduct but vulgar jeal- By Rev. W. R. W. Stephens, M.A. London: John a complete view of the preacher's general and Basil was carried off and ordained. attitude of mind. And he permits an oc- This pious fraud Chrysostom afterwards casional carelessness of expression which excused and defended in his tract "De would have been better avoided. So we Sacerdotio," in which, after accounting hear (p. 276) of "unravelling a roll," of for his own conduct by alleging a strong "hesitating how to act " (p. 346), of "invet- sense of his own unworthiness, he dilates erate enemy" (p. 124), &c. When we have on the dignity of the priestly office. It added that occasionally we notice in the denotes the movement which religious style a not very felicitous imitation of thought had by this time made to find Gibbon, we have finished our fault-find- that the word for "priest " used throughing. out this treatise is iɛpevç, that for the There is much in the life of Chrysostom, Eucharist Oua. It was. not long after as there is in that of not a few of the this that Chrysostom, whose mother great divines of the early Church, which seems to have been now dead, entered a presents a remarkable contrast to the monastery. Even this did not satisfy orderly progress by which men now him, and for a while he became an anadvance to ecclesiastical eminence. chorite, a change which broke down his Though the son of a Christian mother, he health and compelled him to return to had reached years of maturity before re- his home in Antioch. During this time ceiving baptism. Mr. Stephens makes Chrysostom, though still a layman, was the not improbable conjecture that he becoming a power in the Christian comwas unwilling to receive it at the hands munity, which certainly possessed no of an Arian bishop, and Arian bishops abler or more accomplished member. continued for many years to preside over Famous as he was, however, he was perthe Church at Antioch; some orthodox fectly content, when at last he consented priest might, however, have been easily to receive holy orders, to fill for five years found; anyhow, the delay is singularly at the humble office of a deacon, busying variance with our notions and habits. It himself with purely mechanical functions is probable indeed that the religious im- in the ritual of the Church, and with pulse in the man was still weak. The "serving tables." In connection with Chrysostom of after days would hardly have been willing to be a pupil of the heathen sophist Libanius, a pupil so diligent and successful that long afterwards the old man, when asked on his deathbed who should be his successor, replied, "It should have been John, if the Christians had not stolen him from us." Baptism once received, there was no doubt what should be the tenor of his life thereafter. Ordination to the office of "reader" followed almost immediately. Then came the resolution, made by him in conjunction with his friend Basil, to follow the ascetic life, a resolution which for the present, at his mother's entreaty, he contented himself by carrying out in the practice of all kinds of austerities in his own home. He was thus engaged when an event occurred curiously illustrative of the times. Popular choice fixed upon the two friends as fit persons to succeed to certain vacant bishoprics, and this though Chrysostom was not more than 26 years of age, and Basil not much older. Men in those days were often made bishops much as among some savage tribes maidens are made brides,- they were actually carried off by force and ordained. The two friends agreed to act together, but when the emissaries of the electors arrived, Chrysostom could not be found, this latter office a curious fact comes were the of the fallen Eutropius. The scene is wonderfully dramatic : and had insulted the images of the Em-ruler of the East, the Empress Eudoxia, peror's father and wife. That Emperor hated him with a fervent hatred. A prewas Theodosius. For a time it seemed late who lived like an anchorite among men likely that Antioch would suffer the ter- who had been accustomed to look upon rible vengeance which afterwards fell on the Archiepiscopal Palace as London citiunfortunate Thessalonica. Bishop Fla-zens look upon the Mansion House, and vian, though feeble with age, and though who spoke with the direct plainness of John it was yet winter, hastened to Constanti- Knox, was not likely to please the corrupt nople, a journey of 800 miles, to inter- and luxurious capital of the East. He did cede with the Emperor. Meanwhile the not strengthen his position, though he Imperial Commissioners arrived, in- certainly reached the culminating glory structed to execute summary punishment of his life, by his courageous protection on the guilty. Their action was stopped by the interference of some strange mediators. The hermits came down from Such a vast concourse of men and women their mountain-dwellings to plead for the sinful city which they had abandoned. thronged the cathedral as was rarely seen exOne of them, Macedonius, surnamed cept on Easter Day. All were in a flutter of Crithophagus, or "the Barley-eater," be- expectation to hear what the "golden mouth" cause barley was his only food, seized would utter, the mouth of him who had dared, in defence of the Church's right, to defy the the bridle of one of the commissioners as arm of the law, and to stem the tide of poputhey were passing to the hall of judg- lar feeling. But few perhaps were prepared to ment, and commanded him to dismount. witness such a dramatic scene as was actually "Who is this mad fellow?" they had presented, and which gave additional force and asked, but when they learnt his name, effect to the words of the preacher. It was a they fell on their knees before him and common practice with the Archbishop, on acdemanded his pardon. Finally, they con- count partly of his diminutive stature and sented to suspend their sentence till the some feebleness of voice, to preach from the pleasure of the Emperor should be "ambo," or high reading-desk, which stood a little westward of the chancel, and therefore known. Theodosius had by this time brought him into closer proximity with the yielded to the entreaties of Flavian, who people. On the present occasion he had just returned to the city in time to celebrate taken his seat in the ambo, and a sea of upthe Easter festival, and Chrysostom de- turned faces was directed towards his thin pale livered on the occasion one of the greatest countenance in expectation of the stream of of his discourses. Mr. Stephens takes the golden eloquence, when the curtain which sepopportunity of telling the story of the arated the nave from the chancel was partially massacre of Thessalonica, and points out drawn aside, and disclosed to the view of the the contrast between the supplicatory de- multitude the cowering form of the unhappy meanour of Flavian and the command- Eutropius, clinging to one of the columns which supported the holy table. Many a time ing attitude of Ambrose, a contrast cu had the Archbishop preached to light minds riously significant of the difference be- and unheeding ears on the vain and fleeting tween the Eastern and Western Churches character of worldly honour, prosperity, luxury, as regards their relations to the secular wealth; now he would enforce attention, and power. For about eleven years Chrysos- drive his lesson home to the hearts of a vast tom remained the great preacher of Anti- audience, by pointing to a visible example of och. In A.D. 387 he was selected by fallen grandeur in the poor unhappy creature Eutropius, then all-powerful in the Im- who lay grovelling behind him. Presently he perial Court, as successor to Nectarius burst forth: "Maratórns μataloτýtov !— vanin the Archbishopric of Constantinople. ity of vanities!" words how seasonable at all times, how pre-eminently seasonable now. Something like force was employed to "Where now are the pomp and circumstance secure so desirable a candidate, and of yonder man's consulship? where his torchChrysostom was consecrated, greatly to lit festivities? where the applause which once the dissatisfaction of many rivals, a dis- greeted him? where his banquets and garlands? satisfaction of which he was soon to ex- Where is the stir that once attended his apperience the results. Chrysostom's ten-pearance in the streets, the flattering compli ancy of his see was short and troubled. ments addressed to him in the amphitheatre ? The people, indeed, adored him at Con- They are gone, they are all gone; one rude stantinople, as they adored him at Anti-blast has shattered all the leaves, and shows us och; but a clergy who were too often the tree stripped quite bare, and shaken to its Then, turning towards the worldly and even dissolute in their man- pitiable figure by the holy table: "Did I not ners, a corrupt and profligate Court, and, continually warn thee that wealth was a runmost dangerous enemy of all, the real away slave, a thankless servant? but thou very roots. wouldst not heed, thou wouldst not be persuaded. Lo! now experience has proved to thee that it is not only fugitive and thankless, but murderous also; for this it is which has caused thee to tremble now with fear. ... It was the glory of the Church to have afforded shelter to an enemy; the suppliant was the ornament of the altar. What!' you say, 'is this iniquitous, rapacious creature an ornament to the altar?' Hush! the sinful woman was permitted to touch the feet of Jesus Christ himself, a permission which excites not our reproach, but our admiration and praise." We have not space to follow the disgraceful story of the great preacher's overthrow. Theophilus of Alexandria, who had unwillingly taken part in his consecration, was the prime mover of the cabal against him. The enmity against him was but indirectly connected with controversy; the actual charges alleged, all of them, as it seems to us, ludicrously improbable or utterly trifling, concerned his personal conduct and demeanour. He was deposed by a synod most irregularly convened, and banished; but an opportune earthquake troubled the conscience of the Emperor, and the people of the city successfully demanded his recall. After a short stay, he was again expelled, this time never to return. | His abode was fixed by his persecutors successively at Cucusus, a village in the range of Mount Taurus, a bleak spot, and constantly exposed to the incursions of the barbarous Isaurians; and at Pityus, a still more inhospitable region on the coast of the Euxine. The latter place, indeed, he did not reach, for he died on his road, at Comana, in Pontus. Twentyseven years latter his relics (why should the word be written, as here, reliques?) were brought to Constantinople, and deposited in the Church of the Apostles. The fame of Chrysostom as a preacher is amply justified by the sermons which we possess. It must have rested, more than is often the case, on the intrinsic merit of his oratory. His "bodily presence was weak;" he had not the full ringing voice which sometimes gives so powerful a charm to indifferent rhetoric; but the glow and power of his speech, now loftily elevated, now even humbly practical, are still so manifest when we read, that we cannot hesitate to rank the "Goldenmouth" among the great orators of the world. As an interpreter of Scripture, again, he has merits of a high order; to no one of the "Fathers" can we look with more confidence for the honesty and good sense which are not always found in commentators. These points, as well as the important subject of the bearing of Chrysostom's writings on the great Roman controversy, are discussed with ability and candour by Mr. Stephens, of whom, with thanks for a valuable and interesting book, we must now take leave. From The Pall Mall Gazette. THE JOURNAL OF LOUIS XVI.* AT this moment, when in France the Republic and the monarchy are being weighed in the balance, it seems hardly fair to dip into the private life even of a monarch so estimable and unfortunate as Louis XVI., who has come down to us as something between a locksmith and a martyr — a good-natured family man with few vices and a large appetite. However, M. Louis Nicolardot has published his Majesty's journal, which reveals the King in a new light, one that is far different from that shed upon him by history. The journal extends over a period of sixteen years from 1776 to 1792 - and in it his Majesty has jotted down the most private details of his life, but not a single idea. We know that on many trying occasions the King spoke with sense and feeling, and it is hard to imagine why he should have kept such a journal as that before us, which exhibits him in the light of a childish country-gentleman. andre Dumas some years ago published a volume entitled "Les Grands Hommes en Robe de Chambre," which played havoc with a good many historical heroes. What the novelist did for Richelieu and other great people, Louis XVI. has done for himself. M. Nicolardot has divided the King's voluminous diary into chapters. The first chapter treats of his Majesty's health, informing us when he had the toothache, the mumps, or indigestion; when he was inoculated, bled, or when he took medicine. It appears that sometimes the King put his pills and powders into the fire, and felt none the worse for it. He also recorded the accidents that jeopardized his life or his limbs, and, according to his own account, he tumbled off his horse when out hunting five times. Baths appear to have been ordered, says the author, more as a means of health than for cleanliness. Alex The diary is dry and uninteresting, but then we know how the story finished. "Journal de Louis XVI." (London: Hachette. Paris: Dentu. 1873.) |