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than many pretending volumes, by men who nave been naif Iheir lives in the countries to which they relate:—

"Of the people of this country, and ihe manner in which they are governed, I have, as yet, hardly seen enough to form an opinion. 1 have seen enough, however, to find that the custom«, the haiiits. and prejudices of the former are much misunderstood in England. We have all heard, for instance, of the humanity of the Hindoos towards brute creatures, their horror of animal food, &.c.; and you may be, perhaps, as much surprised as I was, to find that those who can afford it are hardly less carnivorous than ourselves; that even the purest Brahmins are allowed to eat mutton and venison; that fisli a permitted to many castes, and pork to many others; and that, though they consider it a grievous crime to kill a cow or bullork for the purpose of eating, yet they treat their draft oxen, no less than their horses, with a degree of barbarous severity which would turn an English hackney coachman sick. Nor have their religious prejudices, and the unchangeableness of their habits, been lees exHggeraled. Some of the best informed ol their nation, with whom I have conversed, assure me that half their most remarkable customs of civil and domestic life are borrowed from their Mahomniedan conquerors; and at present there is an obvious and increasing disposition to imitan: the English in every thing, which has already led to very remarkable changes, and will, probably, to still more important. The wealthy natives now all »fleet to have their houses decorated with Corin. thian pillars, and filled with English furniture. They drive the best horses and the most dashing carriages in Calcutta. Many of them speak English fluently, «nd are tolerably read in English literature; and the children of one of our friends I saw one day dressed in jackets and trousers, with round hats, shoes and stockings. In the Bengalee newspapers, ol which there are two or three, politics are canvassed, with a bias, as I am told, inclining to WhigS sin; and one of their leading men gave a great nner not long since in honour of the Spanish Revolution. Among the lower orders the same feeling Mows itself more beneficially, in a growing neglect of caite—in not merely a willingness, but an anxiety, to send their children to our schools, and a desire to learn and speak English, which, if properly encouraged, might, I verily believe, in fitly years' time, make our language what the Oordao, or court and camp language of the country Uhc Hindostanee), is at present. And though in'tances of aciual conversion to Christianity are, as yet, very uncommon, yet the number of children, both mal« and female, who are now receivinga sort of Christian education, reading the New Testament, repeating the Lord's Prayer and Commandments, and all with the consent, or at least without the censure, of their parents or spiritual guides, have increased, during the last two years, to an amount which astonishes the old European resioj'i's, who were used to tremble at the name of a •"ii'ssionary, and shrink from the common duties of Miristianity, lest they should give offence to their «tathen neighbours. So far from that being a conSequence of the zeal which has been lately shown, n,iany of the Brahmins themselves express admira"lon of the morality of the Gospel, and profess to 'Vitenain a better opinion of the English since they "We found that they too have a religion and a Shas"jr. All that seems necessary for the best effects 'I* follow is, to let things take their course ; to make lnfc Missionaries discreet; to keep the government "¡it now is, stricilv neuter ; and to place our confi^•ipce in a general diffusion of knowledge, and in roaming ourselves really useful to the temporal as We'\as spiritual interests of the people among whom »eltve.

". f'p all these pointe there is, indeed, great room

tor improvement: But I do not by any means as

sent to the pictures of depravity and general worthlessness which some have drawn ot the Hindoos. They are decidedly, by nature, a mild, pleasing, and intelligent race; sober, parsimonious, ana, where an object is held out to them, most industrious and persevering. But the magistrates and lawyers all agree that in no country are lying and perjury so common, and so little regarded; and notwithstanding the apparent mildness of their manners, the criminal calendar is generally as full as in Ireland, with gang-robberies, setting fire to buildings, stacks, &c.; and the number of children who are decoyed aside and murdered, for the sake of their ornaments, Lord Amherst assures me is dreadful."

We may add the following direct testimony on a point of some little curiosity, which has been alternately denied and exaggerated :—

"At Broach is one of those remarkable institutions which have made a good deal of noise in Europe, as instances of Hindoo benevolence to inferior animals. I mean hospitals for sick and infirm beasts, birds, and insects. I was not able to visit it; but Mr. Corsellis described it as a very dirty and neglected place, which, though it has considerable endowments in land, only serves to enrich the Btahmins who manage it. They have really animals of several different kinds there, not only those which are accounted sacred by the Hindoos, as monkeys, peacocks, &c., but horses, dogs, and cats; and they have also, in little boxes, an assortment of lice and fleas! It is not true, however, that they feed those pensioners on the flesh of beggars hired for the purpose. The Brahmins say that these insects, as well as the other inmates of their infirmary, arc fed with vegetables only, such ai rice, &c. How the insects thrive, I did not hear; but the old horses and dogs, nay the peacocks and apee, are allowed to starve; and the only creature« said to be in any tolerable plight are some milch cows, which may be kept from other motives than charity."

He adds afterwards,—

"I have not been led to believe that our Government is generally popular, or advancing towards popularity. It is, perhaps, impossible that we should be so in any great degree; yet I really think there are some causes of discontent which it is in our own power, and which it is our duty to remove or diminish. One of these is the distance and haughtiness with which a very large proportion of the civil and military servants of the Company treat the upper and middling class of natives. Against their mixing much with us in society, there ore certainly many hindrances; though even their objec tion to eating with us might, so far as the Mussul mans are concerned, I think, be conquered by any popular man in the upper provinces, who made the attempt in a right way. But there are some of our amusements, such as private theatrical entertainments and the sports of the field, in which they would be delighted to share, and invitations to which would be regarded by them as extremely flattering, if they were not. perhaps with some reason, voted bores, and treated accordingly. The French, under Perron and Des Boignes, who in more serious matters left a very bad name behind them, had, in this particular, a great advantage over us ; and the easy and friendly intercourse in which they lived with natives of rank, is still often regretted in Agra and the Dooab. This is not all, however. The foolish pride of the English absolutely leads them to set at nought the injunctions of their own Government. The Tussildars, for instance, or principal active officers of revenue, ought, by an order of council, to have chairs always offered them in the presence of their European superiors; and the same, by the standing orders of the army, should be done to me Soubahdars. Yet there are hardly gix, collectors in

India who observe the former etiquette: and the latter, which was fifteen years ago never omitted in the army, is now completely in disuse. At ihe same time, the regulations of which I speak are known to every Tussildar and Soubahdar in India, and they feel themselves aggrieved every time these civilities are neglected.

Of ihe state of the Schools, and of Education in general, he speaks rather favourably; and is very desirous that, without any direct attempt at conversion, the youth should be generally exposed to the humanising influence of the New Testament morality, by the general introduction of that holy book, as a lesson book in the schools; a matter to which he states positively that the natives, and even their Brahminical pastors, have no sort of objection. Talking of a female school, lately established at Calcutta, under the charge of a very pious and discreet lady, he observes, that "Rhadacant Deb, one of the wealthiest natives in Calcutta, and regarded as the most austere and orthodox of the worshippers of the Ganges, bade, some time since, her pupils go on and prosper; and added, that 'if they practised the Sermon on the Mount as well as they repeated it. he would choose all the handmaids for his daughters, and his wives, from the English school.'"

He is far less satisfied with the administra

tion of Justice; especially in the local or district courts, called Adaiclvt. which the cosiness and intricacy of the proceedings, and the needless introduction of the Persian language, have made sources of great practical opjvcv I sioii, and objects of general execration thruntiout the country. At the Bombay President» Air. Elphinstone has discarded the Решал, and appointed every thing to be done in the ordinary language of the place.

And here we are afraid we must take leaw of this most instructive and delightful publication; which we confidently recommend lo our readers, not only as more likely to arr.uwthem than any book of travels with which ? e are acquainted, but as calculated to enlighun their understandings, and to touch their hW.« with a purer flame than they generally catch from most professed works of philosophy or devotion. It sets before us, in every rage, the most engaging example of devotion 10 God and good-will to man; and, touchingererj object with the light of a clear judgment and a pure heart, exhibits the rare spectacle 01 a work written by a priest upon religions creed» and establishments, without a shade of г.tolerance; and bringing under review ¡be characters of a vast multitude of eminent individuals, without one trait either of sarcasm or adulation.

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1. Sketches of India. Written by an Officer, for Fire-^SiJe Travellers at Home. Second

Edition, with Alterations. 8vo. pp. 358. Loïjdon: 1824.

2. Scenes and Impressions in Egypt and Italy. By the Author Tit Sketches of India, tad

Recollections of the Peninsula. 8vo. pp. 452. London \ 1824

These are very amiable books :—and, besides the good sentiments they contain, they are very pleasing specimens of a sort of travelwriting, to which we have often regretted that so few of those who roam loose about the world will now condescend—we mean a brief and simple notice of what a person of ordinary information and common sensibility may see and feel in passing through a new country, which he visits without any learned preparation, and traverses without any particular object. There are individuals, no doubt, who travel to better purpose, and collect more weighty information—exploring, and recording as they go. according to their several habits and measures of learning, the mineralogy, antiquities, or statistics of the different regions they survey. But the greater part, even of intelligent wanderers, are neither so ambitious in their designs, nor so industrious in their execution;—and, as most of those who travel for pleasure, and find pleasure in travelling, are found to decline those tasks, which might enrol them among the contributor» to science, while they turned all their

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delight of travelling consists in the impre:^1 which we receive, almost passively, I'ronV presentment of new objects, and the reír* (ions to which they spontaneously give if*' so the most delightful book» of travelä shou _ be those that give us back those impression in their first freshness and simplicity and ef" cite us to follow out the train of feelings ai reflection into which they lead us, by the i"' reel and unpretending manner in which ihrare suggested. By aiming loo ambitiously*' instruction and research, this charm is lc'v' and we often close these сорюия dissertai:^" and details, needlessly digested in ihe t\*u of a journal, without having the least *

nnt have occupied ourselves as the writers before us seem to have been occupied; and pretty well satisfied, after all, that they themselves were not so occupied during the most agreeable hours of their wanderings, and had omitted in their books what they would most frequently recall in their moments of enjoyment and leisure.

Nor are these records of superficial observation to be disdained as productive of entertainment only, or altogether barren of instruction. Very often the surface presents all that is really worth considering—or all that we are capable of understanding;—and our observer, \ve are taking ¡t for granted, is. though no great philosopher, an intelligent and educated man—looking curiously at all that presents itself, and making such passing inquiries as may satisfy a reasonable curiosity, without iroatly disturbing his indolence or delaying his progress. Many themes of reflection and topics of interest will be thus suggested, which more elaborate and exhausting discussions would have strangled in the birth—while, in the variety and brevity of the notices which ?tich a scheme of writing implies, the mind of the reader is not only more agreeably excited, but is furnished^ in the long run, with more materials for thinking, and solicited to more lively reflections, than by any quantity of exact knowledge on plants, stones, ruine, manufactures, or history.

Such, at all events, is the merit and the charm of the volumes before us. They place ne at once by the side of the author—and bring before our eyes and minds the scenes he has passed through, and the feelings they suggested. In this last particular, indeed, we are entirely at his mercy; and we are afraid he sometimes makes rather an unmerciful use of his power. It is one of the hazards of this way of writing, that it binds us up in the strictest intimacy and closest companionship with the author. Its attraction is in its direct personal sympathy—and its danger in the temptation it holds out to abuse it. It priables us to share the grand spectacles with which the traveller is delighted—but compels 4s in a manner to share also in the sentiments with which he is pleased to connect them. For the privilege of seeing with his eyes, we must generally renounce that of using our own judgment — and submit to adopt implicitly the tone of feeling which he has found most congenial with the scene.

On the present occasion, we must say, the "•acler, on the whole, has been fortunate. The author, though an officer in the King's service, and not without professional predilections, is, generally speaking, a speculative, sentimental, saintly sort of person—with a taste for the picturesque, a singularly poetical cast of diction, and a mind deeply imbued with principles of philanthropy and habits of affection :—And if there is something of fadaise now and then in his sentiments, and something of affectation in his style, it is no more than we can easily forgive, in consideration of his brevity, his amiableness, and Tsriety.

"The "Sketches of India," a loose-printed octavo of 350 pages, is the least interesting perhaps of the two volumes now before us— though sufficiently marked with all that is characteristic of the author. It may be a» well to let him begin at the beginning.

"On the afternoon of July the lOih, 1818, our vessel dropped anchor in Madras Roads, afier a fine run of three months and ten days from ihe Motherbank.—How changed the scene! how great the contrast !—Ryde, and its jittle snug dwellings, with slated or thatched roofs, its neat gardens, its green and sloping shores. — Madras and its naked fort, noble-looking buildings, tall columns, lofty verandahs, and terraced roofs. The city, large and crowded, on a flat site; a low sandy beach, and a foaming surf. The roadstead, there, alive with beautiful yachts, light wherries, and tight-built fishing barks. Here, black, shapeless Massoolah boats, with their naked crewe, singing the same wild (yet not unpleasing) air, to which, for agee, the dangerous surf they fearlessly ply over has been rudely responsive.

"I shall never forget the sweet and strange sensations which, as I went peacefully forward, the new objects in nature excited in my bosom. The rich broad-leaved plantain; the gracefully drooping bamboo; the cocoa nut, with that mat-like-looking binding for every branch ; the branches themselves waving with a feathery motion in the wind; the bare lofty trunk and fan-leaf of the tall palm; the slender and elegant stem of the areca; the large aloes; the prickly pear; the stately banian with drop-branches, here fibrous and pliant, there strong and columnar, supporting ils giant arms, and forming around the parent stem a grove of beauty ; and among these wonders, birds, all strange in plumage and in note, save the parroquet (at home, the lady's pet-bird in a gilded cage), here spreading his bright green wings in happy fearless flight, and giving nis natural and untaught scream.

"It was Inte and dark when we reached Poonamallee; and durins the latter part of our march we had heavy min We found no fellow-countryman to welcome us: But the mess-room wae open and lighted, a table laid, and a crowd of smart, roguishlooking natives, seemed waiting our arrival to seek service —Drenched to the skin, without changes of linen, or nny bedding, we sat down to the repast provided ; nnd it would have been difficult to have found in Tndin. prrhnps, at the moment, a more cheerful party ihan ours.—Four or five clean-looking nalives, in white dresses, with red or white turbans, ear-rings of gold, or wiih emerald drops, and large silver sisnet rings on their fingers, crowded round each chair, and watched our every glance, to anticipate our wishes. Curries, vegetables, and fruits, all new to us, were tasted and pronounced upon; and after a meal, of which every one seemed to partake with grateful good humour, we lay down for tho night. One attendant brought a small carpet, another a mat, others again a sheet or counterpane, till all were provided with something; and thus closed our first evening in India.—The morning scene was very ludicrous. Here, a barber uncalled for, was shaving a man as he still lay dozing! there, another was cracking the joints of a man half dressed; here were two servants, one pouring water on, the other washing, a Saheb's hands. In spite of my efforts to prevent them, two well-dressed men were washing my feet; and near me was a lad dexterously putting on the clothes of a sleepy brother officer, as if he had been an infant under his care '.—There was much in all this to amuse the mind, and a great deal, I confess, to pain the heart of a free-born Englishman."

Sketcbei of India, pp. 3—10.

With all this profusion of attendance, the march of a British officer in India веете а matter rather of luxury than fatigue.

"Marching in this country is certainly pleasant; although perhaps you rise loo early for comfort. An hour before daybreak you mount your horae; and, travelling at an easy pace, reach your ground before the sun has any power; and find a small tent pitched with breakfast ready on the table.— Your large tent follows with couch and baggage, carried by bullocks and coolies; and before nine o'clock, you may be washed, dressed, and employed with your books, pen, or pencil. Mats, made of the fragrant roots of the Cuscus grass, are hung before the doors of your tent to windward; and being constant welted, admit, during the hottest winds, a cool refreshing air.

"While our forefathers were clad in wolf-skin, dwelt in caverns, and jived upon the produce of the chase, the Hindoo lived as now. As now, his princes were cloihed in soft raiment, wore jewelled turbans, and dwelt in palaces. As now, his haughty half-naked priests received his offerings in temples of hewn and sculptured granite, and summoned him to rites as absurd, but yet more splendid and debauching, than the present. His collage, garments, household utensils, and implements of husbandry or labour, the same as now. Then, too, he watered the ground with his foot, by means of a plank balanced transversely on a lofty pole, or drew from the deep bowerie by the labour of his oxen, in large bags of leather, supplies of waler 10 flow through the little channels by which their fields and gardens are intersected. His children were then taught to shape letters in the sand, and to write and keep accounts on the dried leaves of the palm, by the village schoolmaster. His wife ground corn at the eame milt, or pounded it in a rude monar with her neighbour. He could make purchases in a regular bazaar, change money at a shroff's, or borrow il at usury, for the expenses of a wedding or festival. In short, all the traveller sees around him of social or civilized life, of useful invention or luxurious refinement, is of yet higher antiquity than the days of Alexander the Great. So thai, in fact, the eye of the British officer looks upon the same forms and dresses, the same buildings, manners, and customs, on which the Macedonian troops gazed with the •ame astonishment two thousand years ago."

Sketchei qf India, pp.23—26.

If the traveller proceeds in a palanquin, his comforts are not less amply provided for.

"You generally set off after dark; and, habited in loose drawers and a dressing gown, recline at full length and slumber away the night. If you are wakeful, you may draw back the sliding panel of a lamp fixed behind, and read. Your clothes are packed in large neat baskets, covered with green oil-cloth, and carried by palanquin boys; two pairs will contain two dozen complete changes. Your palanquin is fitted up with pockets and drawers. You can carry in it, without trouble, a writing desk and two or three books, with a few canteen conveniences for your meals,—and thus you may be comfortably provided for many hundred miles' travelling. You stop for halfen hour, morning and evening, under the shade of a tree, to wash and take refreshment; throughout the day read, think, or gaze round you. The relays of bearers lie ready every ten or twelve miles; and the average of your run is about four miles an hour.'T

Ibid, pp.218, 219.

We cannot make room for hie description?, though excellent, of the villages, the tanks, the forest—and the dresses and deportment of the different classes of the people; but we must give this little sketch of the Elephant and Camel.

"While breakfast was getting ready, I amused myself with looking at a baggage-elephant and a "ew camels, which some servants, returning with a

general's tents from the Deccan, were in the «ct of loading. The intelligent obedience of the elephant is well known; but to look upon thu huge and powerful monster kneeling down at the mere bidding of the human voice; and, when he ha* risen again, lo see him protrude his trunk for the foot ni his mahout or attendant, to help him ina his seat; or, bending the joint of his hind lei, make a step for him to climb up behind; and then. if any loose cloths or cords fall off, with a dog-like docility pick them up with his proboscis anJ pu: them up again, will delight and surprise long a::tr it ceases to be novel. When loaded, this creature broke off a large branch from the lofty tree new which he stood, and quietly fanned and fly-Dapped himself, with all the nonchalance of an indolent woman of fashion, till the camels were ready. These animals also kneel to be laden. When in motion, they have a very awkward gait, and seem lo travel at a much slower pace than they reiilt do. Their tall out-stretched necks, long sine»)limbs, and broad spongy feet,—their head feraiture, neck-bells, and the rings in their nosm.';, with their lofty loads, and a driver generally on Um top of the leading one, have a strange appearance" Ibid. pp. 46-43

We must add the following very clear description of a Pagoda.

"A high, solid wall, encloses a large area in ibe form of an oblong square; at one end is the gtieway, above which is raised a large pyramidal io»-er; its breadth at the base and height proportioned ;•> the magnitude of the pagoda. This tower is ascended by steps in the inside, and divided mtó stories; tne central spaces on each are open, and smaller as the tower rises. The light is seco directly through them, producing, at times, а тегу beautiful effect, as when a fine sky, or irees, lorm the back ground. The front, sides, and lop of the gateway and tower, are crowded with sculpte; elaborate, but tasteless. A few yards from the gate, on the outside, you often see a lofly octagoni! stone pillar, or a square open building, supported by tall columns of stone, with the figure of a bell couchant, sculptured as large, or much larger thar, life, beneath it.

"Entering the gateway, you pass into в spado« paved court, in the centre of which stands the m"er temple, raised about three feet from the ground, open, and supported by numerous stone pillan. Аз enclosed sanctuary at the far end of this cen'rtl building, contains the idol. Round the whole court runs a large deep verandah, also supported by columns of stone, the front rows of which »re own shaped by the sculptor into various sacred animali rampant, rode by their respective deities. All the other pans of the pagoda, walls, basements. eo:ulaiures, are covered with imagery and оглашён: о: all sizes, in alto or demi-relievo.'

The following description and reflection! among the ruine of Bijanagur, the last capital of the last Hindu empire, and finally overthrown in 1564, are characteristic of the author's most ambitious, perhaps most questionable, manner.

"You cross the garden, where imprisoned bnatf once strayed. You look at the elephant-stable and the remaining gateway, with a mind buMid TM J"0!" juring up some associations of luxurv and magnocence.—Sorrowfully I passed on. Every it.TM *• neath my feet bore the mark of chisel, or of bums skill and labour. You tread continual!» on sifp*. pavement, pillar, capital, or cornice of rude re; r'; displaced, or fallen, and mingled in confusion. Her large musses of such materials have already form« bush-covered rocks,—there, pagoda» are »till s'an. ing entire. You may for miles tract ih« ci'J*"£• and can often discover, by the Calleo рШ*п « "*

.on; piazza, where it has been adorned by streets of uncommon width. One, indeed, yet remains nearly perfect; at one end of ii a few poor ryote, who contrive to cultivate some patches of rice, cotton, or sugar-cane, in detached spots near the river, have formed mud-dwellings under the piazza.

"While, with a mind thus occupied, you pass on through this wilderness, ihe desolating judgments on oiher renowned cities, ao solemnly loretold, so dreadfully fulfilled, rise naturally to your recollection. I climbed the very loftiest rock at day-break, on the morrow of my first visit 10 the ruins, by rude and broken steps, winding between and over immense and detached massée of stone; and seated myself near a small pagoda, at the very summit. From hence I commanded the whole extent of what was once a city, described by Cteear Frederick as twenty-four miles in circumference. Not above eight or nine pagodas are «landing; but there are choultries innumerable. Fallen columns, arches, piazzas, and fragmente of all shapes on every side for miles.—Can there have been street« and made in these choked-up valleys t Has the war-horse pranced, the palfrey ambled there? Have jewelled tnrbans once glittered where those dew-drops now sparkle on the thick-growing bamboos? Hive the delicate small feel of female dancers practised their graceful eteps where that rugged and thorn-covered ruin bars up the path t Have their soft voices, and the Indian guitar, and the gold bells on their ankles, ever made music in so lone and silent a spot 1 They have; but other sights, and other sounds, have also been seen and heard among these ruins. —There, near that beautiful banyan-tree, whole families, at the will of a merciless prince, have been thrown to trampling elephants, kept for a work so savage that they learn it with reluctance, and must be taught by man. Where those cocoas wave, once stood a vast seraglio, filled at the expense of tears and crimes; there, within that retreat of voluptuousness, have poison, or the creese, obeyed, often anticipated, the sovereign's wish. By those green banks, near which the sacred waters of the Toombudra flow, many aged parents have been carried ibnh and exposed to perish by those whose infancy they fostered."—Sketches of India.

The following reflections are equally just and important :—

"Nothing, perhaps, so much damps the ardour of a traveller in Indi«, as to find that he may wander [pawiie after league, visit city after city, village after village, and still only see the outside of Indian society. The house he cannot enter, the group he cannot join, the domestic circle he cannot gaze upon, the free unrestrained converse of the natives he can never listen to. He may talk with his moonshee or his pundit; ride a few miles with a Mahometan sird»r; receive and return visits of ceremony among petty nawabs and rajahs; or be presented at а native court: But behind the scenes in India he cannot advance one step. All the natives are, in comparative rank, a few far above, the many far below him: and the bars to intercourse with Mahometans as well as Hindoos, arising from our faith, »re so many, that to live upon terms of intimacy or acquaintance with them is impossible. Nay, in this panicular, when our establishments were young and small, our officers few, necessarily active, necessarily linguists, and unavoidably, as well as from policy, conforming more to native manners, it is probable that more was known about the natives from practical experience than is at present, or may be again."—¡bid. pp. 213, 214.

The author first -went up the country as far as Agra, visiting, and musing over, all the remarkable places in his way—and then returned through the heart of India—the country of Scimliah and the Deccan, to the Mysore. Though travelling only as a British regimental

officer, and without public character ol any kind, it is admirable to see with what uniform respect and attention he was treated, even by the lawless soldiery among whom he had frequently to pass. The indolent and mercenary Brahmins seem the only class of persons from whom he experienced any sort of incivility. In an early part of his route he had the good luck to fall in with Scindiah himself; and the picture he has given of that turbulent leader and his suite is worth preserving.

"First came loose light-armed horse, either in the road, or scrambling and leaping on the rude banks and ravines near; then some better clad, with the quilted poshauk; and one in a complete suit of chain-armour; then a few elephants, among them the hunting elephant of Scindiah, from which he had dismounted. On one small elephant, guiding it himself, rode a fine boy, a foundling protege of Scindiah, called the Jungle Rajah; then came, slowly prancing, a host of fierce, haughty chiefiains, on fine horses, showily caparisoned. They darted forward, and all took their proud stand behind and round us, planting their long lances on the earth, and reining up iheir eager steeds to see, I suppose, our salaam. Next, in a common native palkee, it« canopy crimson, and not adorned, came Scindiah himself. He was plainly dressed, with a reddish turban, and a shawl over his vest, and lay reclined, smoking a small gilt or golden calean.

"I looked down on the chiefs under us, and saw that theyeved us most haughtily, which very much increased the effect they would otherwise have produced. They were armed with lance, scimitar and shield, creese and pistol; wore some shawls, some tissues, some plain muslin or cotton; were all much wrapped in clothing; and wore, almost all, a large fold of muslin, tied over the turban lop, which they fasten under the chin ; and which, strange as it may sound to those who have never seen it, looks rearlike, and is a very important defence to the sides of the neck.

"How is it that we can have a heart-stirring sort of pleasure in gazing on brave and armed men, though we know them to be fierce, lawless, and cruel ?—though we know stern ambition to be the chief feature of many warriors, who, from the cradle to the grave, seek only fame; and to which, in such as I write of, is added avarice the most pitiless? I cannot tell. But I recollect often belore, in my life, being thus moved. Once, especially. I stood over a gateway in France, as a prisoner, and saw file in, several squadrons of gens-d'armerie dVlite, returning from the fatal field of Leipsic. They were fine, noble-looking men, with warlike helmets of steel and brass, and drooping plumes of black horse-hair; belts handsome and broad ; heavy swords; were many of them decorated with the cross of the Legion of Honour. Their trumpets flourished; and I fell my heart throb with an admiring delight, which found relief only in an involuntary tear. What an inconsistent riddle is the human heart !"—Ibid. pp. 260—264.

In the interior of the country there are large tracts of waste lands, and a very scanty and unsettled population.

• On the route I took, there was only one inhabited village in fifty-five miles; the spots named for halting-places were in small valleys, green with young corn, and under cultivation, but neglected sadly. A few straw huts, blackened and beat down by rain,.with rude and broken implements of husbandry lying about, and a few of those round hardened thrashing-floors, tell the traveller that some wandering families, of a rude unsettled people, visit these vales at sowing time and harvest; and labour indolently at the necessary, but despised, task of the peaceful ryot."—Ibid. p. 300.

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