M. Champollion has promised, that, on his return from Egypt, he will fix the manuscript on cloth for its future preservation, and give a complete translation.  The period of the history is close to the time of Moses; and apparently the great Sesostris was the son of the king who pursued the Israelites to the borders of the Red Sea; so that a most important period in ancient history will be elucidated.

On the same MS. commences another composition, called Praises of the great King Amemnengon.  There are only a few leaves of it, and they form the beginning of the history contained in the second roll.  This Amemnengon is supposed to have reigned before Sesostris, because the author wrote in the ninth year of the reign of the latter.  M. Champollion had not time to enter into a particular examination of these rolls.

The third roll relates to astronomy or astrology, or more likely to both these subjects.  It has not been far opened; but will probably prove of the utmost interest, if, as it is expected, it contains any account of the system of the heavens as known to or acknowledged by the Egyptians and Chaldeans, the authors of astronomical science.

A small basaltic figure was purchased with the MSS., and it is supposed found with them.  On the shoulders of the figure is written in hieroglyphic characters the name, with the addition of clerk and friend of Sesostris.  It did not occur to ascertain, until M. Champollion was gone, whether the name on the figure was the same with any of those mentioned in the rolls as belonging to the historian, or to others.—­From the French.

* * * * *

SPIRIT OF THE PUBLIC JOURNALS.

* * * * *

THE VICAR.

A SECOND EVERY-DAY CHARACTER.

  Some years ago, ere time and taste
    Had turn’d our parish topsy-turvy,
  When Darnel Park was Darnel Waste,
    And roads as little known as scurvy,
  The man who lost his way between
    St. Mary’s Hill and Sandy Thicket,
  Was always shown across the Green,
    And guided to the parson’s wicket.

  Back flew the bolt of lissom lath;
    Fair Margaret, in her tidy kirtle,
  Led the lorn traveller up the path,
    Through clean clipt rows of box and myrtle. 
  And Don and Sancho, Tramp and Tray,
    Upon the parlour steps collected,
  Wagg’d all their tails, and seem’d to say,
    “Our master knows you; you’re expected.”

  Uprose the Reverend Dr. Brown,
    Uprose the doctor’s “winsome marrow;”
  The lady laid her knitting down,
    Her husband clasp’d his pond’rous Barrow: 
  What’er the stranger’s cast or creed,
    Pundit or Papist, saint or sinner,
  He found a stable for his steed,
    And welcome for himself, and dinner.