Of the phonetic, or first order, we have numberless instances, especially in the names of the kings of Egypt. That of Ptolemy, may be adduced, from the additional interest it possesses as the earliest discovered. The characters used in writing this name on the Rosetta stone and elsewhere, express the letters PTOLMAAS.

Of the imitative, or first sub-order of the symbolic or second order, many examples might be noticed. We find the word "assemblies" expressed by the picture of an assembly, and the plural sign; the word 'god" indicated by a picture of some Egyptian deity; and the names of animals very generally expressed by their several representations.

The second sub-order, the figurative, is illustrated by many Egyptian monuments, where a part of any object is put for the whole, or one object is indicated by another having a real, or oftentimes, only an imaginary analogy to it. Thus, on the tablet of Abydos, the sitting human figures below the ovals which contain the royal names, have alternately upon their heads, the upper and lower parts of a regal cap, called the pschent. The shaa, or upper part, symbolizes upper Egypt, and the upper world, or heaven as distinguished from earth; and the teshr, or lower, in like manner typifies lower Egypt, &c. The sacred beetle, called there, typifies the world, in virtue of certain analogies drawn from its habits and mode of life: it also expresses the heart, the soul, and sometimes the sun. The head of Anubis, the guardian of the dead, implies protection or guardianship; and a pair of arms extended in the attitude of prayer, is in a similar manner, expressive of supplication.

The third sub-order described as "like some riddles," is not of very frequent use, though several examples might be adduced; such as the representation of a shuttle, called nath by the old Egyptians, to express the name of their goddess Neith; or a hawk within a house, for eit-hor or Athor another goddess, whose name is made up, of the two sounds which denote these objects.

Of all these various modes of expressing ideas and sounds, it will be observed, that the first order of the third class alone-the phonetic or picture letters, can be properly regarded as peculiar to the old Egyptians, or deserving the name of writing: the other classes, orders, and sub-orders, excepting, of course, the epistolographic, belong to painting, and do not express sounds at all. Now, writing is not a method of expressing ideas, although it is almost invariably described as such; it is a mode of embodying sounds only, as will be at once evident from the fact, that in words of various meanings, such as box for example, the characters employed are the same, whichever of its different imports is intended; whether in fact it apply to a box on the ear, a coach-box, or a Christmas box.

(To be continued.)

POETRY.

357

"AN EFFECT,"

Witnessed on the Boxley Hills, near Maidstone, 29th August, 1842.

WE stood upon those happy hills again

Those breezy hills, whose undulating sweep
Is limned in glory on our wakeful brain,

And thrills through all the raptured sense in sleep-
For there, reclined among th' untended flowers,
Youth, health, and buoyant liberty were ours.
Beneath our feet, wet with the thunder-shower,
Gleam the grey-wethers in serenest light;
Th' enduring hills behind our pathway tower,
And the whole sky above is dark as night,
Save when the headlong lightning cleaves the cloud,
And fires the riven drapery of its shroud.

Below-O! who can tell what memories cling
Around the scenes of loveliness and wonder
Peopling those looming solitudes, that ring
And rock, responsive to the sullen thunder,
Rolling from cloud to cloud, till all the sky
Seems roused, and vocal with the stern reply.

Here stands the grey old cromlech, at our feet,*
There, the rude pile, by ruder hands o'erthrown,t
And, dim-discovered through the driving sleet,

Like Dagon, fall'n, the huge hermetic stone ; +
Whilst, where the Druid harp once woke the mountain,
The mystic grove weeps o'er the sacred fountain. ||

* Kit's Coty House, a rude pile of four immense stones, supposed to have been an altar of the Druids, upon which human sacrifices were offered. Our engraving of "the old grey stones" at page 158, will convey a good idea of its appearance. ↑ This refers to a larger heap of stones now thrown down; supposed originally to have formed part of the temple with which Kit's Coty House was associated.

A large stone now prostrate, but which is supposed to have been one of those pillars erected to Tot, or Hermes, which were so common in the neighbourhood of Druid temples. The farm on which it stands is still called Tottington. A beautiful spring-head, near the stone last mentioned.

See! how the old hills smile with desperate mirth
Amidst their terror, as the ruthless heaven
Opens its fire upon the suppliant earth-
And with a deep rebound, prolong the steven,
Now loud again, now merging in the wail
Or wilder rushing of th' awakening gale.
And now th' uncurtained sky lets down a stream
Of fiercest splendor on that hoary pile,
Which, like a birth begotten of the gleam,
Leaps into proud pre-eminence, the while;
Touched as with living fire, that veteran form
Glares through the hissing flood, and dares the storm.

Thus, on Elijah's altar, fell the flame

That proved THE LORD was God, and He alonePouring contempt on Baalim, and shame

On all the senseless gods of wood and stoneWhilst to the subjects of Jehovah's love

It linked a heav'n below with heaven above.

JESUS WEPT.

WHEN he knew his friend departed,
-Saw the grave where Lazarus slept,
-Heard the sisters, broken-hearted,
Tell their sorrows," Jesus wept."

While their friends were mourning round him,
And a solemn wailing kept;

In the sepulchre he found him,

And, in silence,-" Jesus wept."

Both the sisters told the story,

And with noiseless movement crept,

And though he, with godlike glory,

Soon would raise him," Jesus wept."

While his enemies were uttering
Doubts, they in their bosoms kept;
And with spiteful malice muttering
Base suspicions,-"Jesus wept."

* 1 Kings xviii. 38.

When he thought how sin and sorrow,
Through the world with ruin swept,
How with death each blighted morrow
Still would hasten,- Jesus wept."

E. L. COPE.

THE SABBATH DAY.

O GOD of goodness, thee we praise;
For us in mercy thou hast blest;
To thee we would our voices raise,

And thank thee for the day of rest.
The wearied soul oppress'd with eare
Looks forward to its sweet repose;
And longs to breathe its balmy air,
And find a respite from his woes.
How gladly on this hallowed morn,
We hail the glorious orb of day;
Emblem of him in Bethlehem born,
To guide to heaven,-himself the way.

Joyful we tread thy courts below,

Gladly we there thy people meet; Unitedly we humbly bow,

And thus approach thy mercy seat. And there is heard the grateful song,

Like incense reaching to the skies; Such praises as to God belong,

And through his Son accepted rise. With joy, the glad return we greet

Of the blest morn when Christ arose,

And as we hold communion sweet,

Think of the rest that ne'er shall close.

It tells us of a brighter land,

Where sighs are hushed and tears unknown :
Where saints before their Saviour stand,
And worship ever round his throne.

We bless thee, Lord, that thou hast given
A light to cheer our darksome way;

A foretaste of the joys of heaven,
This pledge of rest, the Sabbath day.

C.

Lambeth.

THE SAVIOUR'S LOVE.

WHAT IS it fills the soul with joy,
And raises it above

This world of busy, anxious care-
Is it not Jesu's love?

What is it tells us of the bliss
Which saints and angels prove,
And points us to the promis'd rest-
Is it not Jesu's love?

What is it makes us stand so firm,
When Satan would remove
Our footsteps from the heavenly road-
Is it not Jesu's love?

What is it urges us to strive

Our talents to improve,

Against the great decisive day

Is it not Jesu's love?

What was it when the Spirit call'd,

And we against it strove ;

That melted down our stubborn wills

Was it not Jesu's love?

And when we join the countless throng,

In that fair world above;

Our never-ceasing song will be,

The Saviour's dying love.

HONOURS ARE HINDRANCES.

GIVE me honours-what are these
But the pleasing hindrances?
Stiles, and stops, and stays, that come
In the way 'twixt me and home?
Clear the walk! and then shall I
To my heaven lesse run than flie.

CATHERINE.

HERRICK,