ed himself to a reputation far beyond the rank of his
sovereignty, and will live in the memories of men, whenever they quote
the names of those who, rising above all the difficulties of their
original position, have proved their title to the mastery of nations.

The Pasha affected nothing of the usual privacy, or even of the usual
pomp, of rajahs and sultans. He was constantly seen driving through
Alexandria, in a low berlin with four horses. The berlin was lined with
crimson silk, and there, squatting on one of the low broad seats, sat
the Viceroy. Two of his officers generally sat opposite to him, and by
his side his grandson--a handsome child between eight and nine years
old, of whom he seems remarkably fond. Like so many other eminent men,
his stature is below the middle size. His countenance is singularly
intelligent, his nose aquiline, and his eye quick and penetrating. He
does not take the trouble to dye his beard, as is the custom among
Orientalists. He wears it long and thick, and in all its snows. Years
have so little affected him, that he is regarded as a better life than
his son Ibrahim--his general, and confessedly a man of ability. But his
second son, Said Pasha, the half brother of Ibrahim, is regarded as
especially inheriting the talents of his father. He is an accomplished
man, speaks English and French fluently, seems to enter into his
father's views with great intelligence, and exhibits a manliness and
ardour of character which augur well for his country. But the appearance
of the Pasha is not without its attendant state. In front of his berlin
ride a number of attendants, caracoling in all directions. Behind the
carriage rides his express, mounted on a dromedary, in readiness to
start with despatches. The express is followed by his pipe-bearer; the
pipe-bearer followed by a servant mounted on a mule, and carrying the
light for the Pasha's pipe. The cavalcade is closed by a troop of the
officers in waiting, mounted on showy horses.

At length the day of parting arrived, and the travellers embarked on
board the Tagus steamer. The view of Alexandria from the sea is stately.
A forest of masts, a quay of handsome houses, and the viceroyal palace
forming one side of the harbour, tell the stranger that he is
approaching the seat of sovereignty. The sea was rough, but of the
bright blue of the Mediterranean, and the steamer cut swiftly through
the waves. The vessel was clean and well arranged, the weather wa