cluded to be the first great branch of the Ganges, would now appear, from the information collected by Mr. Moorcroft, to be incorrectly assumed; the stream issuing from the sacred lake of Mansaroer, being the source of a river of very inferior note, that of the Sutlaij, or Sutledge, the western boundary of our Indian empire, which works its way through the Snowy Mountains close under the high peak of Cantal, immediately west of the vale of Cashmeer; while the northern stream, flowing westerly to a considerable distance, turns to the southward, and, forcing a passage through the Hindoo Coosh, forms a branch, perhaps the principal one, of the Indus.

A war which was then raging between the Ghorkalees and their northern neighbours prevented Mr. Moorcroft from proceeding; and on his return he was seized by a chief of the former, and kept in close confinement for seventeen days. From the moment he had descended the Himmaleh mountains on the north side, he met with the shawl wool goat, and the yak or Tartarian cow; the latter animal, it seems, has an under coating of soft wool or fur, equal to that of the beaver, being a natural felt of the finest kind; the wool of the former is monopolized by the Latakté Tartars, and sold to the Cashmerians; who, for every lack of rupees expended, procure a return of ten or twelve. Both of these animals, but the goat especially, seem, from the temperature of the climate, as well as from their habits, to be exactly suited for the Highlands of Scotland, or the Hebrides; but the heats of the south of India, through which they must pass, or the inconveniences of a long voyage, have hitherto rendered every attempt to import them ineffectual. Mr. Moorcroft obtained a living specimen of each animal, but we believe he lost them when thrown into prison.

He saw behind the mountains great numbers of wild horses and the Ghurk-hur, or wild ass: but horses seemed the staple commodity of the country. Tartary appears to be in fact the indigenous country of the horse. From Pegu to the Caspian, over all that extensive region which sweeps to the northward of the Himmaleh and the Hindoo Coosh, the horse is the most thriving animal, improving in size, strength, and beauty, as we proceed to the westward. In all this vast tract he is every where the companion of man-he shares with him his food, his tent, and his clothing. A Tartar horse-race is well calculated to try the bottom of the animal. The Turcomans have no idea of a short heat; they assemble a great multitude of horses at a spot where they are to start, generally a good day's journey from the winning-post. The rider of the winning horse (which is always reserved as a stallion) receives from the khan, or chief, a sum of money, a dress, and a horse; the second gets a suit of clothes, a saddle and bridle; and

the

the others receive prizes proportioned in value to the order in which they respectively come up to the winning-post; to the last is given a large ball of barley-meal to refresh himself and his horse; all these animals, except the first, are castrated. By these and other attentions to the breed of horses, they may challenge the world to match this noble animal.

The Turcoman horse,' says Sir J. Malcolm, 'is a fine animal, between fifteen and sixteen hands high; and there are probably no horses in the world that can endure so much fatigue. I ascertained, after the minutest examination of the fact, that those small parties of Turcomans who ventured several hundred miles into Persia, used both to advance and retreat at the average nearly of one hundred miles a day. They train their horses for these expeditions as we should for a race; and the expression they use to describe a horse in condition for a Chapow, (which may be translated a foraye,) is, that "his flesh is marble."

Mr. Moorcroft was not a little surprized to find that Russian traders were in the habit of frequenting the markets of Toorkistaun, and particularly that of Bokhara, to receive, in exchange for their furs and cloths, silks, shawls, and other Indian commodities. Even English broad cloths, notwithstanding the prohibition of the Russian government, are, we believe, carried across Siberia and the deserts to clothe the Turcomans, between whom and our Indian provinces, there is but a single ridge of mountains. It is to be hoped, therefore, that the Nepaul treaty has opened an extended market for our English broad cloths; and we doubt not that with a little encouragement the shawl trade of Cashmeer might easily be transferred from the Afghauns and Persians to the East India Company.

Bulkh, or Bactria, situated behind the Hindoo Coosh, is a part of Toorkistaun, particularly famous for its strong and active breed of horses. It is claimed as a tributary province of the Afghauns, and is, like the rest of the distant provinces, either really or nominally, so, according to the power and activity of the reigning monarch. The city of Bulkh, Mr. Elphinstone says, is considered by all Asiatics as the oldest city in the world, and is distinguished by the title of Omool Belaud, the mother of towns. It is now, however, reduced to insignificance; its ruins, covering a great extent, are surrounded with a wall, but one corner only is inhabited. The country around it is described as flat, fertile, and well cultivated; possessing three hundred and sixty villages, watered by eighteen canals from a reservoir in the Paropamisan mountains. The inhabitants are chiefly Usbeck Tartars, or that division of these northern hordes, known by the name of Toorkomans, and from whom the Turks originally sprung.

The sovereign is absolute; but each tribe has its chief, or khan, who

who is generally appointed by the king. In the army also, the sovereign appoints to all places of rank: We find,' says Mr. Elphinstone, Mungbaushees, Euzbaushees, Choraghausees, (commanders of a thousand, of an hundred, and of ten,) which shews that the division of the army is arbitrary, and does not proceed on the principle of having the contingent of each tribe, clan, or village, under its hereditary chief.' And in Bokhara, the men are told off into messes of ten each, who have a tent, a boiler, and a camel between them. Both the King of Bokhara and the King of Bulkh are great bigots, or affect to be so. The former styles himself Commander of the Faithful,' teaches the doctrine of the koran a great part of the day, and spends a considerable portion of the night in prayers and visits. Killich Ali Beg, the present ruler of Bulkh, always walks in the street, lest, if he rode, his feet might be higher than the heads of the true believers.

The Usbecks are described, by Mr. Elphinstone, as short, stout men, with broad foreheads, high cheek-bones, thin beards, and small eyes; their complexion clear and ruddy, their hair black. They wear a shirt and trowsers of cotton; a loose tunic of silken or woollen cloth, bound with a girdle, and a gown of woollen cloth, or felt, over it; a cap of broad cloth, lined with fur, for the winter, or a pointed silken cap called a calpauk, with a large white turban over it. Both men and women wear boots; and the dress of the latter differs only from that of the former in being somewhat longer; they wear gold and silver ornaments, and plait their hair into a long queue, which hangs down from the middle of the head like that of the Chinese. Their favourite food is horse flesh, and mare's milk, made into kimmiz; they drink tea boiled with milk, and oil made from the fat tails of the Doombeh sheep. They live partly in tents and partly in houses resembling those of the Afghauns. In Bokhara, and the tract of country between that and the Caspian sea, the greater part of the people reside in tents, and follow pasturage; their stock consists of sheep, camels, and horses; the latter are so common and so numerous, that every Turkoman has his horse, and even beggars travel on horseback.

The Usbecks are represented as a good sort of people; sincere in their professions and honest in their dealings; and Mr. Elphinstone thinks there are few countries in the east where a stranger would be more at ease. He assigns to Bulkh a million of inhabitants; and says that the city of Bokhara is equal in population to Peshawer, and consequently superior to any in England, except London; that it contains numerous colleges, capable of accommodating from sixty to six hundred students, each; that it abounds with caravansarais, where merchants meet with great encouragement; and that

all

all religions are tolerated by a prince and people above all others attached to their own belief.

It is to be hoped that our late treaty with the Gorka Rajah has given us a passage over that part of the Himaleh crossed by Mr. Moorcroft; and that the government of India will avail itself of the occasion to open a friendly communication with Killich Ali of Bulkh, and Hyder Turrah chief of Bokhara; and we are not ashamed to confess that we have so much old-fashioned prejudice about us, in favour of our own countrymen, as to wish that no foreigner, however gifted, and from whatever quarter recommended, may be thought worthy of a preference to the protection of the British power in India, in any attempt to explore the countries situated beyond the Snowy Mountains.

ART. IX. Emma; a Novel. By the Author of Sense_and Sensibility, Pride and Prejudice, &c. 3 vols. 12mo. London. 1815.

THERE

are some vices in civilized society so common that they are hardly acknowledged as stains upon the moral character, the propensity to which is nevertheless carefully concealed, even by those who most frequently give way to them; since no man of pleasure would willingly assume the gross epithet of a debauchee or a drunkard. One would almost think that novel-reading fell under this class of frailties, since among the crowds who read little else, it is not common to find an individual of hardihood sufficient to avow his taste for these frivolous studies. A novel, therefore, is frequently bread eaten in secret;' and it is not upon Lydia Languish's toilet alone that Tom Jones and Peregrine Pickle are to be found ambushed behind works of a more grave and instructive character. And hence it has happened, that in no branch of composition, not even in poetry itself, have so many writers, and of such varied talents, exerted their powers. It may perhaps be added, that although the composition of these works admits of being exalted and decorated by the higher exertions of genius; yet such is the universal charm of narrative, that the worst novel ever written will find some gentle reader content to yawn over it, rather than to open the page of the historian, moralist, or poet. We have heard, indeed, of one work of fiction so unutterably stupid, that the proprietor, diverted by the rarity of the incident, offered the book, which consisted of two volumes in duodecimo, handsomely bound, to any person who would declare, upon his honour, that he had read the whole from beginning to end. But although this offer was made to the passengers on board an Indiaman, during a tedious

out

outward-bound voyage, the Memoirs of Clegg the Clergyman,' (such was the title of this unhappy composition,) completely baffled the most dull and determined student on board, and bid fair for an exception to the general rule above-mentioned,--when the love of glory prevailed with the boatswain, a man of strong and solid parts, to hazard the attempt, and he actually conquered and carried off the prize!

The judicious reader will see at once that we have been pleading our own cause while stating the universal practice, and preparing him for a display of more general acquaintance with this fascinating department of literature, than at first sight may seem consistent with the graver studies to which we are compelled by duty: but in truth, when we consider how many hours of languor and anxiety, of deserted age and solitary celibacy, of pain even and poverty, are beguiled by the perusal of these light volumes, we cannot austerely condemn the source from which is drawn the alleviation of such a portion of human misery, or consider the regulation of this department as beneath the sober consideration of the critic.

If such apologies may be admitted in judging the labours of ordinary novelists, it becomes doubly the duty of the critic to treat with kindness as well as candour works which, like this before us, proclaim a knowledge of the human heart, with the power and resolution to bring that knowledge to the service of honour and virtue. The author is already known to the public by the two novels announced in her title-page, and both, the last especially, attracted, with justice, an attention from the public far superior to what is granted to the ephemeral productions which supply the regular demand of watering-places and circulating libraries. They belong to a class of fictions which has arisen almost in our own times, and which draws the characters and incidents introduced more immediately from the current of ordinary life than was permitted by the former rules of the novel.

In its first appearance, the novel was the legitimate child of the romance; and though the manners and general turn of the composition were altered so as to suit modern times, the author remained fettered by many peculiarities derived from the original style of romantic fiction. These may be chiefly traced in the conduct of the narrative, and the tone of sentiment attributed to the fictitious personages. On the first point, although

The talisman and magic wand were broke,

Knights, dwarfs, and genii vanish'd into smoke,

still the reader expected to peruse a course of adventures of a nature more interesting and extraordinary than those which occur in his own life, or that of his next-door neighbours. The hero no longer