It is said that an Egyptian Prince dreamed one night of an obelisk, and when he awoke ordered his engineers and his workmen to carve in solid stone the strange and useless device. An obelisk resembles nothing so much as the fanciful figures of a dream. It is a tall square pillar of a peculiar form, often carved with hieroglyphics, and commemorating the name and exploits of its founder. These solitary pillars of stone, sometimes more than a hundred feet in height, are formed of one block or piece, and must have been cut in the quarry with incessant labor. They abound in Egypt, and were a common decoration of its immense temples. Later, several of them were transported on great rafts or ships to the city of Rome. There are in all twelve in that city. One of them is one hundred and nine feet high without the base—a solid piece of red granite. Europe has despoiled Egypt of its obelisks. Paris has one; London another, crumbling away on the banks of the Thames; and we have one in New York. The dream of the Egyptian Prince seems to have a strong interest for all ages.
All Egypt, its history, its cities, its buildings, its mummies, gods, cats, hawks, bulls, sphinxes, the Memnonium, resemble the fancies of a dream. The Nile flows through its sandy plain, and covers it with fertility. Late discoveries have shown that it is one of the longest rivers in the world, rising among the high mountains of Africa, and fed by immense lakes. In Egypt it overflows its banks every year, and covers the land with a rich deposit of mud. On its shores are the ruins of the strangest of all architecture, the works of the ancient Egyptians—immense, grand, awful. They are the largest of all buildings. St. Paul's Cathedral, in London, or the Cologne Cathedral, or even St. Peter's, at Rome, would be lost in the vast circuit of the columns of Luxor and Karnak. As one passes them by moonlight on the smooth stream, they seem, it is said, the palaces of giants. One temple was a mile and a half in circumference. The Pyramids exceed all other buildings in strength, height, and durability. Some of them are four or five thousand years old.
Very tasteful ornamental covers for the first volume of Harper's Young People, which will conclude with No. 52, issued October 26, 1880, are now ready, and will be sold for thirty-five cents, or forty-eight cents if sent by mail, postage prepaid. These covers are not self-binding, but any book-binder will put them on for a small charge.
We wish to call the attention of those of our readers engaged in making exchanges to the great importance of careful and clearly written addresses. We receive proofs daily of the neglect of this essential point. In Post-office Box No. 46 we printed a letter from a correspondent anxious to make an acknowledgment of a pretty mineral, but who was unable to do so because she "could not make out the name" of the sender. Another correspondent, whose correct address was printed in full in Our Post-office Box, received a letter on which the only correct portion of the direction was his own name and the city in which he lived, the name and number of the street, and even the State, being entirely wrong. That he ever received it at all is a proof of the great experience and skill of Uncle Sam's Post-office Department. Now such a very careless method of direction might result in the loss of valuable minerals, stamps, or other specimens.
Other correspondents report having received letters without name or address of any kind, and yet the sender expected to be answered, and was no doubt disappointed, as he was probably unaware that he had omitted a very important part of his letter.
We have ourselves received large numbers of correct answers to puzzles, often accompanied by the pretty appeal, "Do, please, print my name in the list of those sending correct answers," and neither initials, name, nor even address attached upon which we could base an acknowledgment. When the answers were published, and those little folks found their solutions were correct, and yet their names didn't appear, no doubt they thought themselves very badly treated; but the fault was not ours.