Fierce battails ther were fought upon the ground,
  Thatte rob’d the heavens alle in ayer dunne;
  And shoke the world as doth the thunder’s sound,
    Till, soth to say, it well-nigh was undone: 
    But of them alle, ther is an one
  That frayle pen dispairs for to descrive,
  Which mortalls call the Battail of Bull Run;
  But why I mote ne tell, as I’m alive,
  Unless it haply he ther running did most thrive.

LAWRENCE MINOT.

‘Our Orientalist’ appears this month with

EGYPT IN TWENTY-FOUR HOURS.

BY A FAST TRAVELER.

‘You ought to go to the East,’ said Mr. Swift, with a wave of his hand; ‘I’ve been there, and seen it under peculiar circumstances.’

’Explain, O howaga!  Give us the facts.

’Immediately.  Just place the punch-pitcher where I can reach it easily.  That’s right!  Light another Cabanas.  So; now for it.  In 1858, month of December, I was settled in comfortable quarters in the Santa Lucia, Naples, and fully expected to winter there at my ease, when, to my disgust, I received letters from England, briefly ordering me by first steamer to Alexandria, thence per railroad to Cairo, there to see the head of a certain banking-house; transact my business, and return to Naples with all possible dispatch.  No sooner said than done; there was one of the Messagerie steamers up for Malta next day; got my passport visaed, secured berth, all right.  Next night I was steaming it past Stromboli, next morning in Messina; then Malta, where I found steamer up for Alexandria that night; in four days was off that port, at six o’clock in the morning, and at half-past eight o’clock was in the cars, landing in Cairo at four o’clock in the afternoon.  Posted from the railroad-station to the banker’s, saw my man, arranged my business, was to receive instructions at seven o’clock the next morning, and at eight o’clock take the return train to Alexandria, where a steamer was to sail next day, that would carry me back to Naples, presto! as the jugglers say.

’There, breathe a little, and take another glass of punch, while I recall my day in the East.

’Through at the banker’s, he recommended me to the Hotel ——­, where I would find a good table, clean rooms, and none of my English compatriots.  I love my native land and my countrymen in it, but as for them out of it, and as Bohemians—­ugh!  I am too much of a wolf myself to love wolves.  Arrived at the hotel, with my head swimming with palm-trees, railroad, turbans, tarbooshes, veiled women, camels, pipes, dust, donkeys, oceans of blue calico, groaning water-wheels, the Nile, far-off view of the Pyramids, etc., I at once asked the headwaiter for a room, water, towels; he passed me into the hands of a very tall Berber answering to the name of Yusef, who was dressed in flowing garments and tarboosh, and who