there can be no doubt that this was the place of burial alluded to by Herodotus, where those heroes were interred who fell in the action of Thermopyla; and that the Tumulus itself is the Polyandrium mentioned by Strabo, whereon were placed the five Stela: one of which contained that thrilling Epitaph, yet speaking to the hearts of all who love their country.` The whole of this defile is minutely and luminously described, with constant and most gratifying ref rences of identification to the particulars of its ever-memorable history; and with intermingled expressions of emotion and enthusiasm in which it will be admitted on all hands it is hardly possible to be extravagant. No other instance probably, within the compass of pagan history, combines so illustrious a fact with such precisely ascertainable localities. From our Author's observations it would seem that, besides the necessary general certainty of the ground in the unchangeable narrow track in a very strait rocky defile, there are several points where some of the circumstances of the history can be connected with the spot to a rood, to a foot. The physical character of the place, within the pass and about its outlet, is described as in the highest degree loathsome and noxious. • We looked back towards the passage with regret, marvelling, at the same time, that we should quit with reluctance a place which, without the interest thrown over it by ancient history, would be one of the most disagreeable on earth. Unwholesome air, mephitic exhalations bursting through the rifted and rotten surface of a corrupted soil, as if all the land around were diseased; a filthy and fetid quagmire; "a heaven fat with fogs;" stagnant but reeking pools; hot and sulphureous springs; in short, such a scene of morbid nature, as suggested to the fertile imagination of ancient poets, their ideas of a land poisoned by the "blood of Nessus," and that calls to mind their descriptions of Tartarus; can only become delightful from the most powerful circumstances of association.' It may be gratifying to some better principle than pride, that the mind is thus capable of feeling from a kind of moral character ideally left upon a place by a transaction of a few hours duration several thousands of years since, an impression so powerfully delightful as to set at nought and repel the force of such an assault, from real and immediate objects, on the physical part of the sentient nature. After any scene of less concentrated moral power and heroic association, it would have been a matter of no ordinary interest to traverse the plain of Pharsalia, where a large sepulchral Tumulus was reasonably assumed by our Author, to be an indication of the exact field of another mortal strife between despotism and liberty, though with a far less simplicity of prineiple on the part of the champion of the better cause. Thessaly is denominated by Dr. C. the "Yorkshire of An"cient Greece," in allusion to the current pleasantries on the honesty of the people of that county: the ancient Thessalians were the subjects of similar compliments; and the country 'has not forfeited,' says our Author, its archaic character.' The people, however, might have the conscience to varnish their knavery towards strangers with a little complaisance, and decency of accommodation; whereas, there is not a dog-kennel in England, says Dr. C., where a traveller might not lodge more commodiously than in one of their khans; and the cara'vanserais are yet worse.' He cannot however much mend himself in the other parts of the Turkish empire; for the generality of its places of shelter and refreshment, are fairly and even favourably represented by the alluring picture of the hotel at Pharsalus. Receptacles considerably less tolerable awaited our adventurer at some later stages. A dirty square room, the floor covered with dust, and full of holes for rats, without even a vestige of furniture, is all the traveller finds as the place of his repose. If unprovided, there is not the smallest chance of his getting any thing to eat, or even straw to lie upon. In such an apartment we were permitted to pass the night;— unable even to kindle a fire; for they brought us green wood, and we were almost suffocated with smoke;-not to mention the quantity of vermin with which such places always abound, and the chance of plague infection from their filthy walls. This subject is merely touched upon, that persons who have not visited Turkey, may know what they ought to expect before they take a journey thither. Yet, even to all this, weariness, and watchfulness, and shivering coll, and other privations, will at last fully reconcile travellers, and make them long for such a housing. In these places there is no separation of company-masters and servants, cattle-drivers and guides, and every casual passenger of the road, lie down together.' Occasions occurred in this and several other parts of the journey, for admiring the unmatchable speed, perseverance, and hardihood of the Tartar couriers, passing between Constantinople and the distant parts of the empire. Larissa was found to be a rich town, full of ill-disposed people. From this place the route was through the Valley of Tempe, the minute and picturesque description of which is intermingled with historical references and philosophical conjecture; and illustrated with a fine view and a most beautiful topographical chart. There is a variety of curious information concerning the industrious and comparatively free inhabitants of the mountain village of Ampelâkia, and their manufacture of red cotton thread, and concerning the vast quantity of the Verde-antico marble found there, an indication which Dr. C. combines with the other local circumstances, to identify an earlier and somewhat lower site of Ampelâkia with the ancient Atrakia, celebrated for its inexhaustible quarries of this beautiful stone. But the grand predominating feature and wonder of all this region, is Olympus, with its satellites, Ossa and Pelion. This sublime chief of the mountains of Greece, and of Grecian poetry, had commanded the attention and the reverence of our classical traveller long and often before he reached its precincts, as it is seen from each of the more southern eminences; and it continued a splendid and imposing vision during many long stages of his recession towards the north. Its utmost magnificence is displayed to the spectator contemplating it from a "small town in the narrow plain between it and the sea, and upon the very roots of the mountain, - whose summits tower above it in the highest degree of grandeur which it is possible to conceive. There is no place where the whole outline formed by the many tops of Olympus may be seen to so much advantage as from Katarina. Perhaps they were rendered more distinct in consequence of the snows whereby the mountain was at this time invested. It appeared like one vast glacier.'-But after having left this station behind, Dr. C. says, We then beheld Olympus, not only in undiminished glory, but seeming of greater magnitude than ever, being without a cloud to obscure any part either of its summit or sides; all its vast masses and deep chasms being displayed, so that the eye might range from its broad base upwards to its craggy tops, now radiant with bright and shining light, reflected from accumulated snows, and contrasted with the dark shadows of its awful bosom.' At about half an hour's distance, ascending a hill, we had another noble prospect, but in an opposite direction: it commanded the whole of the Thermaan gulph; Mount Athos appearing plainly to the east.' Information obtained of an accumulation of marble ruins at a place on the mountain, excited an earnest wish to go and examine it; but the petty Turkish tyrant, the Agha of the district, positively refused permission, in consequence of believing that some former travelling Franks, (Dr. C. surmises that Mr. Tweddell must have been one of them,) had found some treasure among those ruins ;-in resentment of which envied discovery and stealth he had ordered all the marbles that tools could master, among those ruins, to be knocked in pieces. And yet, even Dr. C. is among the most indignant of the remonstrants against the measure, with respect to another part of Greece, of removing some of the precious marble remains beyond the reach of such gentry as this Agha! On the plain surrounding the extremity of the Gulf of Therma, our Author recognised, in an immense tumulus, an everlasting memorial of the great battle of Pydna, by which Macedon was reduced to a Roman province. He takes this occasion to remark, THE ECLECTIC REVIEW, FOR OCTOBER, 1816. } Art. I. 1. Memoir of the Early Life of William Cowper, Esq. Written by Himself, and never before published, With an Appendix, containing some of Cowper's Religious Letters, and other Interesting Documents, illustrative of the Memoir. Foolscap 8vo. pp xviii, 126. Price 4s. Edwards. 1816. 2. Memoirs of the most remarkable and interesting Parts of the Life of William Cowper, Esq. Written by Hin self. To which is added, an Original Poem and a Fragment 18mo. pp. 94. Price 2s. E. Cox and Son. 1816. 3. Poems by William Cowper, of the Inner Temple, Esq. Vol. III. 4. Memoirs of the Life and Writings of William Cowper, Esq A new IT T is several years since a manuscript copy of this most affecting piece of auto-biography, was confidentially entrusted to us for perusal. Had we been altogether ignorant of the Author, had we never heard the name of Cowper, it would have been nevertheless impossible not to feel intensely, painfully interested; and the unknown individual, whose heart is laid open in this narrative, to its most sacred recesses, would even then have taken possession of our tenderest sympathy. But the man whose mental history we were thus admitted into the confessional as it were to hear from his own lips, was one for whose character we had long cherished the feelings of endeared intimacy. It seemed that we were listening to the voice of a departed friend. And the information furnished by these disclosures related exactly to that portion of his history which forms a chasm in the record of the biographer, and which no human being, how closely soever allied in sympathy, though VOL. VI. N. S. 2 C possessing all the advantages of familiar intercourse, could perfectly have supplied. The mysterious curtain, behind which we had so often with fearful curiosity desired to look, was drawn half aside, and exhibited the awful spectacle of a mind of exquisite texture agonized and struggling with its own ineffable emotions, in the darkness of incipient insanity. It was a sight we wished neither to prolong nor to repeat. The impression it made was too vivid to allow of the most minute trait being effaced from our recollection, and we were therefore under no temptation to abuse the confidence to which we were indebted for so melancholy a satisfaction. No doubt could consist with the strong internal evidence of the manuscript, as to its genuineness and authenticity. We felt convinced that it formed the key to a great part of Cowper's history, and that in the hands of a man of philosophical mind and genuine Christian principles, it would be invaluable, as materials for such a life of Cowper as is still a desideratum. We should however have strongly deprecated at the same time, the laying open all the disclosures of such a narrative to the public at large. Our objections would no doubt have originated partly in our feelings. It would have appeared to us a violation of the sacredness which seems to attach to the secrets wrung from a wounded heart. We thought of poor Dean Swift-for the difference of character formed no obstacle to the comparison-exhibited by his mercenary servant, in the helpless idiocy of premature age, as a spectacle. We thought of Cowper himself in his last days hiding his face with his hands, and turning to the wall, at the entrance of a stranger. It was casting pearls before swine. It was throwing open the closet of the anatomist to the gape of the vulgar. Few, we thought, could understand, and comparatively few could take much interest, in these details. And there are some who never reason in cases in which their prejudices are interested, in whose minds the perusal of this Memoir would, we feared, tend to fix still more incurably, the association of insanity with what they term Methodism, notwithstanding the demonstration deducible from the facts, that in the case of Cowper, religion was first known to the convalescent sufferer in the shape and with the efficacy of a remedy. We confess that these objections, are not removed, but the Publisher of the volume has exerted his ingenuity, in furnishing the most satisfactory apology that could be offered. There may be considerations,' he remarks, of moral utility, in favour of a circumstantial publication, which ought to over-rule and supersede all considerations of mere personal delicacy. The Publisher is satisfied that these are principles which apply to Cowper's Memoir of Himself, and which fully justify him in rescuing it from |