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at once that the head must belong to a | gaging two or three men to sleep near winged lion or bull, similar to those of the sculptures, I returned to the village, Khorsabad and Persepolis. It was in and celebrated the day's discovery by admirable preservation. The expression a slaughter of sheep, of which all the was calm yet majestic, and the outline Arabs near partook. As some wanderof the features showed a freedom and ing musicians chanced to be at Selamiyah, knowledge of art scarcely to be looked I sent for them, and dances were kept up for in the works of so remote a period. during the greater part of the night. On The cap had three horns, and, unlike the following morning, Arabs from the that of the human-headed bulls hitherto other side of the Tigris, and the inhabitfound in Assyria, was rounded, and with- ants of the surrounding villages conout ornament at the top. gregated on the mound. Even the women could not repress their curiosity, and came in crowds, with their children, from afar.

I was not surprised that the Arabs had been amazed and terrified at this apparition. It required no stretch of imagination to conjure up the most strange fancies. This gigantic head, blanched with age, thus rising from the bowels of the earth, might well have belonged to one of those fearful beings which are pictured in the traditions of the country, as appearing to mortals, slowly ascending from the regions below. One of the workmen, on catching the first glimpse of the monster, had thrown down his basket and run off towards Mosul as fast as his legs could carry him. I learned this with regret, as I anticipated the consequences.

Whilst I was superintending the removal of the earth, which still clung to the sculpture, and giving directions for the continuation of the work, a noise of horsemen was heard, and presently Abdur-rahman, followed by half his tribe, appeared on the edge of the trench. As soon as the two Arabs had reached the tents, and published the wonders they had seen, every one mounted his mare and rode to the mound, to satisfy himself of the truth of these inconceivable reports. When they beheld the head they all cried together, "There is no God but God, and Mohammed is his prophet!" It was some time before the Sheikh could be prevailed upon to descend into the pit, and convince himself that the image he saw was of stone. "This is not the work of men's hands," exclaimed he, "but of those infidel giants of whom the prophet, peace be with him! has said that they were higher than the tallest date tree; this is one of the idols which Noah, peace be with him! cursed before the flood." In this opinion, the result of a careful examination, all the bystanders concurred. I now ordered a trench to be dug due south from the head, in the expectation of finding a corresponding figure, and before nightfall, reached the object of my search, about twelve feet distant. En

As I had expected, the report of the discovery of the gigantic head, carried by the terrified Arab to Mosul, had thrown the town into commotion. He had scarcely checked his speed before reaching the bridge. Entering breathless into the bazaars, he announced to every one he met that Nimrod had appeared. The news soon got to the ears of the Cadi, who, anxious for a fresh opportunity to annoy me, called the Mufti and the Ulema together, to consult upon this unexpected occurrence. Their deliberations ended in a procession to the governor, and a formal protest on the part of the Mussulmans of the town, against proceedings so directly contrary to the laws of the Koran. The Cadi had no distinct idea whether the bones of the mighty hunter had been uncovered, or only his image; nor did Ismail Pasha very clearly remember whether Nimrod was a truebelieving prophet or an infidel. I consequently received a somewhat unintelligible message from his excellency, to the effect that the remains should be treated with respect, and be by no means further disturbed, and that he wished the excavations to be stopped at once, and desired to confer with me on the subject.

This difficulty was cleverly overcome, and the magnificent winged humanheaded lion secured.

Ab-dur-rahman rode to my tent one morning, and offered to take me to a remarkable cutting in the rock, which he described as the work of Nimrod, the giant. The Arabs call it " Negoub," or the hole. We were two hours in reaching the place, as we hunted gazelles and hares by the way. A tunnel, bored through the rock, opens by two low arched outlets upon the river. It is of considerable length, and is continued for about a mile by a deep channel, also cut out of the rock, but open at the top. I

suspected at once that this was an Assy- | trenches in it. I had not previously done

rian work, and, on examining the interior of the tunnel, I discovered a slab covered with cuneiform characters, which had fallen in from a platform, and had been wedged in a crevice of the rock. With much difficulty I succeeded in ascertaining that an inscription was also cut on the back of the tablet. From the darkness of the place, I could scarcely copy even the few characters which had resisted the wear of centuries. Some days after, others who had casually heard of my visit, and conjectured that some Assyrian remains might have been found there, sent a party of workmen to the spot; who, finding the slab, broke it into pieces in their attempt to displace it. This wanton destruction of the tablet is much to be regretted; as, from the fragment of the inscription I copied, I can perceive that it contained an important, and, to me, new genealogical list of kings. I had intended to remove the stone carefully, and had hoped, by placing it in a proper light, to ascertain accurately the forms of the various characters upon it. This was not the only loss I had to complain of, from the jealousy and competition of rivals.

The tunnel of Negoub is undoubtedly a remarkable work, undertaken, as far as I can judge by the fragment of the inscription, during the reign of an Assyrian king of the latter dynasty, who may have raised the tablet to commemorate the completion of the work. Its object is rather uncertain. It may have been cut to lead the waters of the Zab into the surrounding country for irrigation; or it may have been the termination of the great canal, which is still to be traced by a double range of lofty mounds, near the ruins of Nimroud, and which may have united the Tigris with the neighbouring river, and thus fertilized a large tract of land. In either case, the level of the two rivers, as well as the face of the country, must have changed considerably since the period of its construction. At present Negoub is above the Zab, except at the time of the highest flood in the spring, and then water is only found in the mouth of the tunnel; all other parts having been much choked up with rubbish and river deposits.

Not having yet examined the great mound of Kouyunjik, which, as it has already been observed, has generally been believed by travellers to mark the true site of Nineveh, I determined to open

so, as the vicinity of the ruins to Mosul would have enabled the inhabitants of the town to watch my movements, and to cause me continual interruptions before the sanction of the authorities could be obtained to my proceedings. A small party of workmen having been organized, excavations were commenced on southern face, where the mound was highest; as sculptures, if any still existed, would probably be found in the best state of preservation under the largest accumulation of rubbish.

the

The only opposition I received was from the French consul, who claimed the ruins as French property. The claim not being recognised, he also dug into the mound, but in another direction. We both continued our researches for about a month, without much success. A few fragments of sculpture and inscriptions were discovered, which enabled me to assert with some confidence that the remains were those of a building contemporary, or nearly so, with Khorsabad, and consequently of a more recent epoch than the most ancient palace of Nimroud. All the bricks dug out bore the name of the same king; but I could not find any traces of his genealogy.

On my return to Nimroud, about thirty men, chiefly Arabs, were employed to carry on the excavations. Being anxious to learn as soon as possible the extent of the building, and the nature of the sculptures it contained, I merely dug down to the top of the slabs, and ascertained the character of the sculpture upon them, reserving a completer examination for a more favourable opportunity. I was thus able to form an opinion as to the number of bas-reliefs that could be removed, and to preserve those partially uncovered from injury, by heaping the rubbish again over them.

United to the last of the four slabs with small bas-reliefs, beyond the bulls of yellow limestone, was an ornamented cornerstone marking the end of hall B., the length of which could now be ascertained. Its dimensions were peculiar-154 feet in length, by 33 in breadth-resembling, in its narrowness, the chambers of Khorsabad, though exceeding them all in its proportions. Adjoining the corner-stone was a winged figure; beyond it a slab, 14 feet in length, cut into a recess, in which are four figures. Two kings stand facing one another, but separated by the symbolic tree, above which is the divini,

with the wings and tail of a bird, enclosed in a circle, and holding a ring in one hand, resembling the image so frequently occurring on the early sculptures of Persia, and at one time conjectured to be the Zorastrian "ferouher," or spirit of the person beneath. The fact of the identity of this figure with the Persian symbol is remarkable, and gives rise to new speculations and conjectures, which will be alluded to hereafter. Each king holds a mace or instrument, formed by a handle with a ball or circle_at_the_end,* and is followed by a winged figure carrying the fir-cone and basket. This bas-relief is well designed and delicately carved, and the ornaments on the dresses and arms of the figures are elegant and elaborate.† -Layard's Nineveh, and its Remains.

SPIRITUAL RELIGION A DEFENCE.

SPIRITUAL religion will protect you by the happiness which it affords. Man is created with a capacity for bliss, and an instinctive desire after it; and it would not accord with the wisdom and goodness of God to have created an appetite, for the gratification of which he has made no provision. You and all other sentient, or at any rate rational, creatures long to be happy. This is a rational self-love; an instinct, not a virtue; a necessary propensity, not a moral excellence. What can a man have more, what can he desire less, than happiness? Yet how ignorant are most men of its nature, and of course of the means of obtaining it. The beautiful passage from the book of Job, already quoted, (Job xxviii. 12-28,) is as true in application to happiness as it is to wisdom -for, in fact, the wisdom there spoken of and true felicity are identical.

But what is happiness? Not mere amusement gratification—pleasure merriment at least as these terms are usually employed in ordinary discourse; these refer to the senses-the imagination-the intellectual tastes-the mere

laughter-loving propensities of our nature and know ye not, have ye not experienced, that under the brilliant covering, the gay exterior, of all these, there may be the never-dying worm gnawing at the heart and preying upon the peace? It is recorded, and by himself * A similar object is seen in the hand of a sitting figure on a cylinder, engraved in Rich's Second Memoir on Babylon.

This bas-relief has been sent to England: it is oken in several places.

too, of that once licentious libertine, but afterwards saintly soldier, colonel Gardiner, that when by general consent he was complimented as "the happy rake," he was inwardly, notwithstanding this deceptive appearance, so perfectly miserable, that he envied the dog which crouched at his feet. As another and a still more striking proof that pleasure and happiness are not convertible terms, think of that unhappy man-for such he undoubtedly was, notwithstanding his rank, his wealth, his genius, and his fame-whose name is the boast of modern poets, but at the same time the lament of religion and morality; that gifted nobleman, who prostituted his muse to the embraces of infidelity, and, as the result of such a union, has left us a siren offspring, which, by their fascinating strains, have lured multitudes to destruction, and who, unhappy victims! seemed to think it a compensation for the wreck of their immortal hopes to expire on the shores of genius and in the raptures of poetry. Even when listening to the melody of his wondrous verses, we hear perpetually the under-sounds of a groaning heart, as if God would show the necessity of religion to the happiness of the human bosom, in the wretchedness of the man who assailed it by the united powers of infidelity and poetry. Shade of Byron! oh that thou hadst known the truth of the inspired volume! thou too wouldest have been happy; and thy muse would have risen upon the wings of faith to a far sublimer height than it ever reached, and have placed thee second to our great Milton.

Happiness is that calm, serene enjoyment, of which the seat and centre are the heart, which gives contentment to the desires, and is maintained under the smile of conscience, and the approbation of the judgment. And where, but in true experimental religion, can this be found? And I appeal with confidence to those of you who have tasted it, if it is not to be found there? Christianity lighted on our sorrow-stricken, weeping world, as a seraph from the land of bliss, bringing with her the fruit of the tree of life, which is in the paradise of God, the leaves of which are for the healing of the nations. Her eye beams with mercy on suffering humanity-her voice utters the music of consolation-her soft hand wipes away our tears-and the ways into which she leads are ways of pleasantness, and her paths are peace. She forbids us the

fruit of no tree but what, however blush-waste of a cold and heartless philosophy? ing and tempting it may appear, contains poison, and supplies us with no gratification but what is as salubrious as it is pleasant. She gives to the understanding the knowledge of the first truth, to the heart the enjoyment of the chief good. By the pardon of our sins through the blood of the everlasting covenant, she purifies and pacifies the conscience-by regeneration and sanctification, she breaks the slavery and calms the turbulence of the passions, and brings us under the gentle sway of true holiness-by prayer, meditation, and the perusal of the Scriptures, she helps us to maintain communion with the Father of our spirits-and, by faith and hope, she instructs us to anticipate and prepare for a glorious immortality. She is our guardian in the hour of temptation, our guide amidst the intricacies of life, our companion in solitude, and our nurse in sickness. She will tread with us that dark and gloomy vale where no other friend can be near, and will then waft us on her more than angel wings to the throne of the Eternal-the Fountain of life!

Are these the words of truth and soberness, or mere assertion and declamation? Will not your own happy experience verify what I have said? Here, then, here, I exultingly say,-here is your defence-your best defence against the snares of infidelity. Will you relinquish all this? And for what? When infidelity solicits you to give up your religion, ask the tempter, What he has to give you in return? Your prudence, as well as your principle, should inquire, What he has to offer you in the way of compensation for the peace that passeth understandingthe joy that is unspeakable and full of glory? What secrets of bliss has he acquired, and what elements has he discovered, more substantial and more satisfying than quietness of conscience purity of heart-holiness of life-communion with God-the hope of immortality, and the foretaste of heaven? "Miserable man! he is proud of being the offspring of chance-is in love with universal disorder, whose happiness is involved in the belief of there being no witness to his designs, and who is at ease, only because he supposes himself an inhabitant of a forsaken and fatherless world!"

Will you quit the region of pure, solid, sublime delight, to which religion has led you, to wander in the gloom and desolate

Will you push out of this quiet haven, and from these still waters, to be tossed upon the unquiet ocean of scepticism, and wrecked at last upon the shores of unbelief? Will you turn from this garden of the Lord, this paradise of God, where the sun shines upon the flowers and the fruits which his rays have ripened, and which he still continues to gild, to wander in the dark night of unbelief, amidst the bogs of endless doubt, and in chase of the wild fires of a false and doubtful philosophy? No, no; every conviction of your judgment, every yearning of your heart, every dictate of your conscience, every recollection of the past, and every anticipation of the future, says "No." It would be like exchanging the tree of life for the vine of Sodom, whose grapes are gall and its clusters bitter; and turning from the river of life, clear as crystal, that proceedeth from the throne of God and the Lamb, to lap the dark and filthy puddle that oozes from the slime-pits of human depravity, and stagnates in the gutters of sensuality and vice. These two simple questions are, and will be, I believe, found a sufficient protection to you from the dangers which surround you; "What shall I lose by giving up Christianity? and what shall I gain by embracing infidelity ?" Ah, what-what indeed?

Spiritual religion produces deep humility, and thus prevents that pride of intellect which gives so strong a bias, and produces so powerful a propensity to infidelity and false philosophy. It was pride, in all probability, which occasioned the fall and expulsion from heaven of the sinning angels; it was pride of intellect which laid our race in ruins; it was pride which formed the character of the first murderer; from pride of intellect sprung originally the whole system of idolatry; and infidelity and false philosophy_can boast no higher or better parent. It is the boast of infidels, that their reason is sufficient for all the purposes of morality and religion, and they need not the aids of a revelation from God. Presumptuous confidence! But, alas! how seductive and how prevalent! What is it, but man deifying himself, and falling down to worship at the shrine of his own reason? Now the very genius of Christianity is directly opposed to all this. Its first lesson is humility-its second humility-its third humility.

Distinguishing between self-degrada

tion and self-exaltation, it leads us to consider that the powers of the human understanding are not only given, but sustained in all their exercises, by God; and therefore cherishes a spirit of dependence upon him: and while it leaves ample room for the exercise of reason, in the way of discovery and invention in the fields of science and the arts, admonishes its possessors that it is at once too feeble and too corrupt to be a guide in place of religion. It reminds us that reason, once a sun, is now a meteor, partaking of the corruption of our nature, and needing a conductor at every step of our course; and calls upon us, in lowliness, gratitude, and confidence, to give ourselves up to a safer leadership.

And, besides this, spiritual religion makes a man intimately acquainted with himself; it leads him into the interior of his own soul, and there discloses to him such weaknesses as make him distrust himself; and furnishes the recollection of so many humbling failures, and so many painful chastisements of his own undue reliance upon himself, that he is prepared to follow the inspired injunction-not to lean to his own understanding, and most freely and fully to admit its declaration, that "He that trusteth in his own heart is a fool."

And what is the practical expression and demonstration of his humility? A constant habit of earnest prayer. Humility is the emotion of which prayer is the expression. Humility is the devotion of the heart, prayer that of the lip. Humility is the feeling of dependence, prayer is its language. Prayer is more constantly and necessarily connected with spiritual religion than speech is with natural life: there may be natural mutes; there can be no spiritual ones. The ear of the renewed soul is never closed, nor its tongue ever silent. Prayer is not only our duty but it is our honour and our privilege; for it is the converse of man with God, the intercourse of the finite spirit with the Infinite, the coming of the child of grace and heir of glory into the presence of his heavenly Father. Prayer is placing ourselves under the outstretched arm of Omnipotence, entering the secret place of the Almighty; it is, in fact, putting on the power of God as a shield, and taking hold of his might. Nowhere has infidelity, with all its plausibilities, less weight-nowhere has Christianity, with all its difficulties and incomprehensibilities, more power than when both

are contemplated together by an act of devotion in the light of God's counte

nance.

Give yourselves to prayer; be not ashamed of the exercise. Ashamed! Were an archangel to become incarnate, he would account it not only his bounden duty, but his highest honour, to pray. Conceal not, attempt not to conceal, the fact that you pray. It may be desirable, and is, in order to prevent distraction, to be quite alone; but if this cannot be, neglect not to bend your knee before your companions. You know not the influence such an act may have upon others. If the present lecturer has a right to consider himself a real Christian -if he has been of any service to his fellow-creatures, and has attained to any usefulness in the church of Christ, he owes it in the way of means and instrumentality to the sight of a companion, who slept in the same room with him, bending his knees in prayer on retiring to rest. That scene, so unostentatious and yet so unconcealed, roused my slumbering conscience, sent an arrow to my heart; for though I had been religiously educated, I had restrained prayer, and cast off the fear of God; my conversion to God followed, and soon afterwards my entrance upon college studies for the work of the ministry. Nearly half a century has rolled away since then, with all its multitudinous events; but that little chamber, that humble couch, that praying youth, are still present to my imagination, and will never be forgotten, even amidst the splendour of heaven and through the ages of eternity.-Rev. J. A. James's Lecture to Young Men.

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