and which is accustomed to transmit such corners of truth and know ledge as it has obtained through a hundred subtle channels of personal communication, which we, all-boastful of our press and print, have lost the gift of, is but slowly comprehended by the mind of civilisation, penetrated, sodden as it is with perpetual instruction. Amid all the compensations of nature none is more remarkable than this wonderful power of transmitting, which in actual truth does not leave us so very much to boast of in telegraphs and universal bookdom. "It is a remarkable fact," says the narrative before us, "that when Wolff returned to Mount Sinai, fifteen years afterwards, the very children who were not born at his first visit knew not only Joseph Wolff's name, but the names of his companions; and also that one of the ladies (ie., a woman in a Bedouin tent) had taken his neckerchief. They knew, too, that Wolff had a servant called Franz Six, and that his companion Cann had a servant called Michael: also that whilst Wolff was always afraid that his servant was starving himself to death, the rascal, in fact, was drunk from morning to night. From this we see how these sons of the desert hand down the slightest events from father to son." The same peculiarity is found in respect to much more important matters. Wolff himself and other travellers light here and there in the most unexpected wilds upon some solitary man or woman hugging to their solitary hearts a bit of gospel they have found or heard by some chance means, and leavening with the halfknown truth a secret corner of the desert; and "broken lights" from such imperfect centres gleam over all that mysterious East which still throbs with sacred tradition. Then, in those far distant unexplored regions, the Christian adventurer here and there falls upon a tract in which he can recognise the footsteps of a Christian and civilised man, and the trail of doubtful light still lingers on the way. The con

clusion may easily be drawn that, while it is impossible to put the entire world under such close train. ing as might be given by permanent missionary residents maintained everywhere, nothing can transcend the uses of the Christian adventurer, the wandering evangelist. He who but pauses on the wing to say what is in him, all urgent and in haste; he who possibly may never be seen again—the man who, for an hour or day's speech of the wondering community, has crossed hills and seas- -he whose errand must be attended to at once or lost for ever-has all the liveliest faculties of human nature enlisted in his favour; and of all mental phenomena there is nothing so remarkable as the tenacious life of truth when left to itself, even in the most unhopeful locality. Unnursed and unfostered, incomplete and fragmentary, that divine thing lives, and shines out in glimmers among the darkness. In those far Eastern lands, so dark to a cursory vision, such gleams are trembling about many an unsuspected centre; and it is no small testimony to the services of this autobiographer to say that he has shown under that heathen gloom a tremulous illumination of tiny lamps, imperfect but genuine. Infinitely better comfort than that which lies in the anxious schemes of visionary men to make out that we are but threatened a little in this existence to be all saved somehow at the last, lies in the sight of such unthought-of approaches to the God who sees better than we do over all the dim earth.

It was on such a mission that Wolff penetrated into the mysterious East. With dauntless simplicity he sought out his own people wherever they were to be found. From the merchant Jews of Malta and Gibraltar to the mystic and bemused rabbis of Jerusalem, he hesitated nowhere. With the one he maintains lively controversies ending in nothing, and with the other descends into the obscure lore of the Talmud, always fighting

bravely, sometimes triumphant in argument, sometimes worsted, yet always persuading his antagonist of that one fact more potent than any It is argument, that he believes. said that this, of all others, is the question of which Jews are sceptical, and the missionary is again and again assailed by confidential in vitations to disclose the hypocrisy of his Christianity, and winks and smiles of intelligence, for which an Englishman would certainly have knocked down the rogues who made them. Wolff refrains from all such personal demonstrations, but he does what is more, knowing his sacred office he declares his faith with unvarying insistence, which at last brings tears into the eyes of his questioners. More than once, at the most perilous crisis of his fate, he is entreated to permit himself to be called a Mohammedan, but at absolute peril of his life nobly refuses, and declares his trust in Christ sufficient to support him through all dangers. At the same time he neither is nor pretends to be brave. He will venture to mount no animal above the condition of a donkey or broken-down horse, screams with fright when he crosses a river, and makes ridiculous exhibitions of panic when he is in the hands of sufficient protectors, all which he relates with great glee and perfect simplicity. But when the Eastern wanderer has to fight his way through an Arab tribe, or out of the hands of a dangerous unmanageable chief, the scene changes entirely. The coolness with which he prepares for that doubtful combat, the calm confidence with which he plies the quips of Oriental trickery to mistify his opponents, the lightheartedness with which he picks. himself up, and with feet bleeding from the bastinado, or in stark nakedness, escaped with nothing but his life, sets his face still forward, though at a snail's pace, shames even English courage. One of these escapes, and the manner in which the clever Jew overcame the danger which threatened him,

He was

I am an

As

'There,' said Wolff, are wo brothers now?' The Osbeck replied, "Yes, praise be to God.' Then Wolff said, 'I will not deceive a brother. I tell you, therefore, who I am. Englishman. Will you protect me?' The Osbeck clasped his hands above his head in despair, and exclaimed, long as you are in my house none can touch you; but the moment you leave it, the Governor, who is my cousin, will send after you and put you to death. Therefore you must promise to do what I tell you. You speak Arabic, so I will introduce you as an inhabitant of Mecca, and tell my cousin when he comes that you were once my host in Mecca, and then he will ask your blessing and depart.' Wolff answered, 'I shall do no such thing. All I order you,' and, he added, turning round to his followers,

and you also, is not to say one single word about me when he comes; but refer him to me, and I shall answer all his questions to his entire satisfaction, not hiding anything from him.' With this understanding the Osbeck took Wolff to his house. In the evening came the Governor, as the Osbeck had said; and seeing Wolff, he came straight up to him, and asked him-"Where do you

come from?""

"Wolff.-"From Malta.'

"Governor.- What town is Malta?' "Wolff-Noah had three sons, Shem, Ham, and Japheth. Ham had again a Malta son, whose name was Canaan. was peopled by the descendants of Canaan (because they are descendants of the Phenicians).'

"Governor'Whereabouts is Malta?' "Wolff.The contrivances of man and their inventions for their conveniences are wonderful; but every nation

“Governor.—'Who rules in Malta?' "Wolf."The name of the governor is Ponsonby Khan, son of Besborough Khan, and his wife's name is Amalec Khatoon' (i. e., Emily the lady), 'daugh ter of Bathurst Khan.' It is to be remarked that Wolff pronounced these names in a broad Eastern way, and with a powerful voice.

*Governor.—'Where were you born?" "Wolff. Here we must go to the Holy Book, the history of the world.'

"But here the Governor became almost impatient, and exclaimed, 'This man is too learned for me!' and he seemed

inclined to depart. But he came back, and Wolff began to read from the 10th chapter of Genesis, 2d verse.

'I was born in the land of Ashkenaz,' which is the Hebrew name for Germany, which, however, Wolff did not explain to the Governor. The Governor was perfectly satisfied with the whole of this information, and said, 'Verily thou art full of truth, and there are no lies in thee.'"

This successful hoax, however, though it rid him of one dangerous adversary, did not bring him to his journey's end in safety. After a few days' further course, the unfortunate traveller fell into the hands of a fierce tribe of sectaries, known by the name of Kharyn, or "seceders from all the rest," who chose to object in the extremest way to the title of Hajee, by which his servants addressed him, and would let him off with nothing less than abjuration. His rational proposal that they should withhold the title from him had no effect upon those optimists. Only Mohammedans were entitled to use it, and a Mohammedan he must declare himself.

"You must either say,' they declared, "There is God, and nothing but God, and Mohammed the prophet of God," or we will sew you up in a dead donkey, burn you alive, and make saus, ages of you.' Wolff said, 'There is God,

and nothing but God, and Jesus the Son of God.' They at once now gave a sign, and all their moolahs assembled in a large cave, hewn out of the rock. The Affghans who accompanied Wolff, as well as his three servants, trembled with anguish, and said to him, 'Say the Creed, and the moment you are on your journey again, you may just be what you were before." Wolff replied, Leave me, and let me alone. I will manage them. All you have to do is to disperse, and leave me only with my three servants. Some of you go towards Kondoy, but don't go far.' Wolff then ordered his servants to bring him his writing-desk. They did and he wrote the following words:

So,

"To Lord and Lady William Bentinck.

"MY DEAR LORD AND LADY WILLIAM BENTINCK,-The moment that you read this letter, you must be aware that I am no longer in the land of the living; that I have been put to death. Give to my servants some hundred rupees for their journey, and write the whole account to my wife, Lady Georgiana.-Your affec tionate "JOSEPH WOLFF.'

"Wolff this

gave paper into the hands of his servants, and said, 'Now 1 will make one more attempt to save my life. If I succeed, well; if not, go on as far as Loodhiana, and the first red coat you see, give it to him, and he will bring you to the Governor-General, and you will be rewarded. Now, bring me my fir mans from the Sultan of Constantinople.' They did so; and Wolff, with the fir mans in his hand, entered the cave where the moollahs were seated, with the Koran open before them, declaring that he must be put to death. humbug is this? put me to death. guest to death.' Koran decides it so.'

Wolff said, 'What You cannot dare to You will be putting a They replied, "The

Wolff said, 'It is a lie! The Koran says, on the contrary, that a guest should be respected, even if he is an infidel; and here, see the great firman which I have from the Schalif of the whole Mohammedan religion from Stamboul! You have no power to put me to death. You must send me to Mohammed Moorad Beyh at Kondoy. Have you not seen how little afraid I am of you? I have told the Affghans already that they should disperse, and probably some of them have already gone to Kondoy.' When they heard the name of Mohammed Moorad Beyh they actually began to tremble, and asked Wolff, 'Do you know him? As Wolff could not say that he knew him, he replied, "This

you will have to find out.' They said, Then you must purchase your blood with all you have. Wolff answered, This will I do; for I am a dervish, and do not mind either money, clothing, or anything.' And thus Wolff had to surrender everything. Oh, if his friends in England could have seen him then, they would have stared at him. Naked, like Adam and Eve, and without even an apron of leaves to dress himself with, he continued his journey; and as soon as he was out of sight of the Hazara, he witnessed a sight which he never thought to have seen among Mohammedans. All his Affghan companions knelt down, and one of them, holding the palm of his hand upwards to him, offered up the following extempore prayer:

"O God! O God!

Thanks be to thy name!

That thou hast saved this stranger
Out of the lion's den.
Thanks, thanks, thanks
Be to thy holy name;
Bring him safely back
Unto his country,
Unto his family.
Amen.'"

Such startling incidents did not discourage the bold missionary. He went on through all those savage extremities, indemnifying himself by the flatteries and kindnesses of every little nucleus of Europeans he lighted on, and recording, with the kindliest, warm-hearted, barefaced vanity, the laughing adulations addressed to him. "Wolff, your amiable conduct will carry you through the world," says one of his early friends; and though the candid story teller confesses frankly that public opinion was divided as to his eloquence in refined Calcutta-the Bengal Hurkara describing him " as an amiable enthusiast, but not eloquent ;" another Anglo-Indian journal praising only his "zeal and good-humour; while "the paper called the Englishman cut Wolff up in a most tremendous and very clever manner" -yet the invariable observation of the Persians on hearing him was this, "It is astonishing how, and with what precision, Wolff conveys his ideas on religious subjects; for

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though he pronounces the Persian with a foreign accent, yet he rivets the attention of every one of us." In propounding his millennial opinions, "Wolff did it with such modesty that he gained the affection of all," and expounded the eleventh chapter of the Romans to a poor old man, who had sunk into unbelief, in such a manner that " Botta confessed cordially that Wolff had beautifully shown him that the great apostle had combined in himself in a most prominent manner the philosopher, the religious man, and the divinely-inspired apostle. Botta thanked Wolff most cordially for his masterly exposition; and wherever Wolff has expounded that chapter, whether to a philosopher or a religious man, a like observation has been made to him." Whenever he reached civilised ground, all the alleviations which kind women and friendly men could render him were lavished upon the wellpleased missionary, who comforts and excuses himself for all the amusing stories and records of his own social powers, which are interpolated into the narrative, by remembering that Francis Xavier also was "the life of the company" whenever he made his appearance in the secular world. His social qualities, however, never interfere with his work; and if the good man looms large through a mist of laughter, in many cases with an aspect more amusing than refined, he is as picturesque a figure as could be desired when he goes with the mournful Jews at Jerusalem to chant at the ruined wall of the Temple that pathetic song of woe and anticipation which the Christian Hebrew can still enter into with all his heart; or sits at the gate of the Eastern city, in the very face of Islam, and chants aloud the psalms of prophecy-a proceeding the temerity of which strikes his English friends, who have seen him "shake in his shoes" for the slightest gale, with utter astonishment. The fashion of his courage was different

L

from the ordinary development of that quality, and was not inconsistent with arrant cowardice, according to his own confession-yet was notwithstanding, when necessity urged, a most sustaining and veritable valour.

The last great act of his life was the singular chivalrous enterprise, undertaken in a forlorn hope of saving two victims of Eastern ignorance and cruelty, Stoddart and Conolly. With a characteristic touch of superstitious friendliness, Wolff recalls to his mind that in all his disasters he has been delivered by British officers, and, inspired with the recollection, full of pity, vanity, affectionate regard, and confidence perhaps excessive, but entirely just, in a knowledge of Eastern ways which few living persons could equal, set out to Bokhara on the forlorn hope of delivering those captives. Trusting to his quick wit and old experience, and to the effect which his clergyman's gown, doctor's hood, and shovel hat, and the title of "Grand Dervish of England, Scotland, and Ireland, and of the whole of Europe and America," which he meant to assume, would have upon the ignorant and brutal court of Bokhara, the good man went forth in full canonicals, with a Bible, English and Hebrew, open in his hand, into the jaws of the lion. A most notable, vain, generous, and noble enterprise, which did not save the already murdered victims, but which must commend Wolff to every man who has anything of the Quixote in his veins as most men have whose good opinion is worth asking. Though he escaped by the merest hairbreadth himself, he overawed the savage potentate into an inquiry whether he had power to raise the dead?—a striking confession of remorseful fright and compunction. The Grand Dervish, however, found it difficult enough to accomplish his own escape, and all but testified his "gratitude to British officers" with his blood. By diligent use of all

the devices common to captives, and by firmness and self-possession, he did at last manage to get away from Bokhara, and, coming home by a devious course, enlivened by many of his old experiences, came finally to England, and received from some confiding patron the living of Ile Brewers, in Devonshire. He had held a Yorkshire curacy before setting out upon his journey, touching which Mr Drummond wrote him with all the frankness of friendship, "Your call is to be an evangelist for all the nations of the earth, and for this you are fit; but, to use your own simile, 'you are as fit for a parish priest as I am for a dancingmaster.'" Most people, we presume, on a priori evidence, and judging from the nature of things, would be disposed to agree with Mr Drummond. A parish priest, however, the Grand Dervish has been for fifteen years, and in that position has built a church, parsonage, and school-house, increased his acquaintance to a large extent, and evidently, by the testimony of the preface and execution of this very book, won the love of his neighbours, whatever his parishioners may have to say. In this calm refuge reposes still the most notable of wandering Jews. How he confines his restless activity, his adventurous spirit, his love of frolic and commotion, into the restricted life and narrow limits of the vicarage, we will not undertake to say. The cage into which he has thus cooped himself, however, has evidently not broken his spirit. He seems to have retravelled all his various adventures with the highest relish and enjoyment; and we know no book of recent times that will stand comparison with this original record. The story overflows with character, humour, acuteness, sense, and folly-the most naïve and unreserved self-disclosure. If Dr Wolff was a romantic hero, or the brightest type of a wandering apostle, we might indeed object to many matters which hold a place in his narrative. But he is neither one nor