with stone, an enormous lion, which is half raised up from a lying position, as if aroused by an arrow which lies at its feet. The great beast seems to be uttering a roar. To this as yet unfinished statue M. Bartholdi has applied some of the Eastern lore which he thinks to have discovered in Egyptian colossi. One theory is that put in practice with the figure of Vercingetorix, before mentioned. The lion must be so relieved against the background that no one could mistake its action at whatever distance seen. Another is, that details must consist of great masses on which the distant eye can take hold; that the mane, for instance, cannot be treated minutely, hair by hair, but in great tresses which at a distance shall give the effect of hair, although the relative proportions may be entirely arbitrary. Again, there must be no deep depressions in the figure which by throwing shadows would interfere with the distant effect. Or, to say very much the same thing in other words, the treatment of the colossal requires that broad and, if possible, rather flat masses should be presented to the eye. A glance at the accompanying picture of the Belfort lion will explain this. All these theories are meant to come in play with the treatment of the statue called by M. Bartholdi "Liberty Enlightening the World," of which two pictures are here given, one to mark its position in relation to the surrounding country, the other to show the statue itself. From the former, one can see that Bedloe's Island is a very central point in the complex of rivers and islands forming what is really the city of New York. Manhattan Island is only one and the chief portion of our city. Hoboken, Jersey City, Staten Island, Bay Ridge and Brooklyn are already parts of it; in the future they will always tend to be bound more closely to New York proper. Bedloe's Island is therefore a nearly central point in the Upper Bay, about which lie these detached portions of the future if not of the present city, and its small size will only add to the effect of any gigantic statue erected on it. The fort will be an advanced part or terrace to the pedestal of the figure, which will rise high above any other object in the immediate neighborhood. Allowing twenty feet for the height of the island above the water, the pedestal is to be one hundred and ten feet high, and the statue, to the flame of the torch, one hundred and forty-five. This makes the torch at least two hundred and seventy-five feet above the level of the bay. It will equal in | height the column in the Place Vendôme at Paris, and will be larger than the colossus of Rhodes, so much celebrated by antiquity. Like that statue, it will have to be cast in pieces of manageable size, and built up much after the manner of an armored frigate. The construction will be a curious piece of engineering skill, for which the sculptor and Mr.de Stückle will be responsible. At night it is proposed that a halo of jets of light shall radiate from the temples of the enormous goddess, and perhaps the flame of the torch may be fashioned in crystal, in order that it may catch the light of the sun by day, and at night form a glowing object illuminated by electricity. In respect to the pose of the statue, that has been calculated with care. A Liberty would have to be draped, even if a draped statue were not advisable in a climate so cold as ours, where nude figures suggest extreme discomfort. But M. Bartholdi has also used his drapery to give a tower-like and therefore solid look to his lofty woman without forgetting the necessity for variety in the upward lines. Or perhaps it would be better to say that he has followed the laws of stability to be seen in the trunks of trees, which are very broad at the ground, where the roots are indicated, yet by no means of one monotonous breadth from the root to the branches. She will stand so as to suggest that the strongest hurricane could never budge her from the pedestal she has chosen. Her gesture is meant to call the attention of the most distant person, and, moreover, to let him know unmistakably what the figure means. For in this statue, also, M. Bartholdi has applied his science to fine effect in getting the figure outlined against the sky, while the energetic attitude has not interfered with a certain dignified repose which inheres in the resting position and which may be owing to the weight of the body being thrown on the left leg, as well as to the grave folds of ample drapery. Even if a stranger approaching from the Narrows should not know at once what she is holding up for him to see, the energy of her action will awaken his curiosity, and the dignity of it will make him await a nearer approach with confidence. When he can make out the tablets of the law which jut from her left side as they rest on her bent arm, and the flaming torch which she holds high up above her head, while her eyes are fixed on the horizon, he will be dull indeed if he does not understand what she wishes to tell. "LIBERTY ENLIGHTENING THE WORLD." literary men, must have languished under the want of appreciation of true genius, if not the full bloom of vulgarity, which affected the court of Napoleon III. But M. Bartholdi can hardly be said to have been spoiled by appreciation in Paris during the Empire; on the contrary, his life has been full of hard work. Turning back to the first page for a drawing of the sculptor's head by Mr. Wyatt Eaton, the reader will see that his face bears the mark of one who has labored hard. Indeed, without a portrait, one may come to the same conclusion on looking over the list of his already accomplished works. ers. His statue of Liberty is not such as an American artist would be likely to erect. In the first place the name would be a piece of buncombe like those that foreigners sometimes cast in the teeth of Americans, but of which Americans usually prefer to deny the authorship. Even if we can feel some pride as being a model to republics, we could hardly go so far as to erect a statue looking over toward Europe and call it "Liberty enlightening the World." But when another nation puts it up for us, we cannot afford to refuse the honor with hypocritical disclaimFor with individuals an excessive sensitiveness to a compliment is apt to argue some form of egotism,-self depreciation, let us say. Yet for all that, one would not hazard much to say that the general run of Americans are not as enthusiastic about this statue as they would have been, were its size smaller and its name more modest. Familiarity with republicanism or liberty of the American type breeds con| tempt, and Americans at home cannot be expected to regard their liberties with the same admiration as Americans and their foreign friends abroad. Perhaps it is just as well that this should be so, for the vexations incident on maintaining republican liberties may act as a wholesome restraint on any tendency toward national selfglorification. The statue, then, that is to be the most noticeable ornament of our harbor and city, has come from the brain of no novice in his profession. The studio of Ary Scheffer is no bad starting-point for an artist; the worst thing that M. Bartholdi may have had to contend with has been the oppressive atmosphere of the Third Empire, which he was compelled to breathe. Painters and sculptors, as well as Ar six o'clock in the morning, the white mountains of Syria are well worth seeing. The lights and shades of mountain sunrise scenery awaken in the beholder a sense of the sublime, and arouse the traveler to the enjoyment of heights and depths, rapidity of motion, clear atmosphere and the very fact and joy of life. To get the full benefit of a bright day on the "goodly Lebanon," one should be well mounted on an Arab mare, which, answering to the rider's impulse, will devour the ground. at times, now stopping at convenient points for views, and now picking her way among the winding defiles and rocky ascents. Traveling there and sleeping in tents, one may realize something of the rural life of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob; but in going. to Damascus by diligence, on a macadamized road, there is such a mingling of the ancient and modern,-the Orient and the Occident, that you can hardly identify either. Our summer had been spent in the village B'hamdoon, which nestles upon the mountain-side about five thousand feet above the Mediterranean Sea, and about five hours distant from it. Starting at six o'clock, we DAVOUD PASHA, CHRISTIAN GOVERNOR-GENERAL OF reached the carriage-road at seven, where we met the diligence from Beyroot, and jumping in, we bowled away over the hills at a rapid rate, passing around summits that we did not surmount, and through scenes of grandeur that we have no power to describe. Relays of six fresh horses every hour give one the benefit of their best speed, and the delay of fifteen minutes at every station affords opportunity for short walks, which lessen the fatigue of carriage attitudes. The old route over the Lebanon from Beyroot on the sea, to the plain of ColeSyria, and over the Anti-Lebanon to the oasis of Damascus, has been described by crusaders, pilgrims and travelers, by poets, soldiers and statesmen; but justice cannot be done to the view which ravishes the eye as one descends the first great range. The plain stretches ten miles away to the Anti-Lebanon, with the ruins of Baalbec on the left, while Mount Hermon looms up majestically on the right, and the intervening ground is variegated with colors of every hue. The ripening grain, the dark plowed land, the trees of verdant foliage which follow the little streams, the mud villages of the fellaheen, the feeding cattle and the tents of wandering Arabs, make up a picture of quiet beauty. Baalbec is not visible from the diligence. If it were, many travelers would content themselves with a distant and unsatisfactory view, and thus lose one of the choicest bits of Oriental travel now furnished by tenting amid the ruins. But Mount Hermon is visible almost everywhere from Dan to Beersheba, and far away to the north. Through all this scene of pastoral loveliness, and over bridges that covered what at a distance seemed the merest silver threads, dashed the great diligence. The road across the plain is a painfully straight line, and behind us is a long white cloud of dust; but the monotony is broken at the entrance of this great valley by the noonday rest at the half-way house of Shtorra. Here by the side of a running stream our first class passengers have a quiet lunch in a room apart, while those of the second class feed in less pretentious quarters, or eat their own crackers and cheese, or bread and olives, as they stretch their weary limbs,-all according to the tariff rates of the bill of fare. The water is delicious. We drank from the stream, and watched the ducks and geese paddle up and down its current in search of falling locusts. The children found their greatest pleasure here, and this green spot will ever be to them the brightest of all in our hot July ride to Damascus. Had they been permitted to wade in the water, their happiness would have been akin to that of the Moslem's paradise, where running streams rival the charms of the houris. The winding horn of the guard summoned us from our dish of leben (butter THE START FOR DAMASCUS. milk) and hard-boiled eggs, so the children bade a hasty adieu to the pretty brook, and we were all shut up again at the mercy of AN ARAB GYPSY ENCAMPMENT. six galloping steeds and the caprice of a driver's whip. This plain is about seventy miles long, with an average breadth of seven miles; and, although 2,300 feet above the sea-level, was stiflingly hot, and our pleasure was lost in our longing to reach the next range with its commanding views. What had seemed so beautiful from the Lebanon lost its attractions as we rolled over its surface, and we were content to leave that "happy valley" to any Rasselas and his friends who might choose to occupy it,-even under the new law of property which accords to foreigners the right to purchase real estate. Another change of horses and we gained the ascent, and as we rolled slowly up the pass we regained something of our former enthusiasm. The enchantment lent by distance came out again, and the picture of the plain brightened as it took its flight; but we looked forward eagerly to other beauties yet to be revealed. A few more relays and we were in the Elysian Fields, which, watered by the "rivers of Damascus," satisfy longing eyes with tall maple and poplar groves, and glades and delicious streams, and environ and embower the oldest city of the world. Our road for an hour ran through this delightsome land, with canals for irrigation on either side, and near the Abana, which has made this desert an Eden. Here were joy and gladness, and the traveler laughs in harmony with nature's smiling. Here were pleasure and beauty, and refreshment for soul and body. What wonder that Naaman the leper preferred these waters to those of the Jordan, or that he was astonished at the imputed merits of a stream in Palestine on the banks of which no city stood! At sunset we passed the great Meidan, a suburban treeless park, on the other side of the river, where horses were galloping to and fro. As we approached the city, we were followed by numerous parties of Moslem equestrians who seemed to enjoy the fun of riding in the wake of this leviathan of the road, until the diligence entered the inclosure of the Imperial Ottoman Road Company's establishment. The curiosity among the men |