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have driven on the Course after he had been brooding over his sed coal fire. There was the holy river coursing far up above the city, far away beyond the suburbs, ---past the hunting fields of the fierce Mahrattas-winding its many coils through the palace gardens on its sacred banks, past the umbrageous banyan, the palm, the sycamore and cocoa trees, past heathen temples, rusting under the corroding influence of climate and of time ; and as it loses itself in the distance far beyond Barrackpore, and your imagination traces it beyond your visional reach, torturing its bends through the vast possessions of the honorable company and the paddy fields that give so many millions nourishment-past the wheat and the corn and the indigo plantations – near where the poppy blossoms bloom under government stimulants, to raise a few more lacs to pay the army, no mat. ter how great the misery that every chest of opium may occasion in the sea port families of the Celestial Empire-past the Zemindars, whose tyrant power grinds the life blood out of the poor ryot at the rate of twelve dollars per annum, with. out rations, or house, or home (the lion's share of which finds its way into the Bengal treasury)-worse in some instances than the Legrees of " Uncle Tom's Cabin,” that raised such a storm of virtuous indignation and false philanthropy at the Sutherland House-past the Saracenic ruins of Hindoo temples, endearing because so gray with age, by the Sepoy camp, where English officers are the lords of native regiments-till it finally loses itself among the valleys that base the mountain ranges, and in company with some of its branches waters the roots of the towering Himalayas - lost as you may be in reverie, your fancy is now arrested by the soul stirring music of the regimental bands (made perfectly harmonious by constant years of practice) in the garden enclosure, where nurses and children most do congregate, and where, in the little arbor, you may find an Americau apple or an American ice-fellow countrymen one is so glad to meet with."

Mr. Train does himself injustice. He can paint-after the fashion of the sign-painter, whose rule is to “ lay it on thick.” At all events if these are not specimens of painting, we despair of being able to find out what they are specimens of. Certainly not of intelligible English writing. And now we must stop. An article in our present issue is proof sufficient, if any proof were necessary, of our perfect willingness to do justice to the intelligence and taste of American travellers, when they do justice to themselves and their country. But when a traveller, misled by the possession of a certain kind of cleverness, mistakes impertinence for smartness, conceit for knowledge, violation of the duties imposed by hospitality for legitimate descriptions of men and manners,—and himself for a gentleman,-our calling requires of us to attempt, after our poor measure, to do justice to him too.

Episodes in the War-life of a Soldier : with the Dream-testimony of Ora May, and other sketches in prose and verse. By Cal

. der Campbell, Author of The three trials of Loide," fc. London, 1857.

CALDER CAMPBELL, formerly an officer in the Madras army, has been before the public as an author of books for a full quarter of a century; and as a contributor of prose and verse to various periodicals, for a still longer period. The dedication, prefixed to the volume now before us, bears date the 15th December, 1856 ; and since then we

have seen it announced that the earthly career of its author is closed. This fact would have induced us to censure gently, had censure been required. But it is not required. The volume before us makes little pretension, and fulfils all that it professes. It is a collection of slight sketches, in prose and verse, some of which have appeared before in several periodicals, and others are now published for the first time. It was a sage remark of a sage critic that love in the drama bears a disproportionate part, as compared with the part that it occupies in actual life. In like manner, we may remark that serpents are somewhat out of due proportion in our author's narratives. They crawl, and coil themselves, and dart and hiss in almost every page. We should like to extract one of our author's episodes ; but they are all too long, and it would not be doing justice to extract a fragment. We shall therefore content ourselves with a specimen of his poetical powers :

HOW A TRUE POET IS MADE.
“ The Bird, when ripe, will soar and sing,

The Bard, when Grief matures his mind
Will from his Heart's heaped treasures bring

Thoughts, fit to teach his Adam-kind;
And-set to music--they will turn

To strains the willing crowd shall learn.
But not till then-Oh ! not till Care

Hath stared him sternly in the face,
Hath fettered him to real Despair

That scorches with a fierce embrace, -
Oh! not till then can poet give

The song by which his fame shall live !
We learn to sing, as Nightingales

Are said in Eastern tales to do ;
To many a Cross by cruel Nails

Our spirits must be bound, ere true
To Poesy and Nature, we

A Rose's grace can sing, or see !
Then haste not Thou, who, in thy soul

Ambitious art of poet's meed,
To woo the Prophet's strange control -

To gauge the depths of human Need;
For thou shalt--if a Poet born-

Learn all too soon how Crowns are worn!
With heavy brows and aching hearts

Our Anadems we wear. – for they
Bear that around them which imparts

A spiritual suffering, night and day;
A sense to see, a touch to feel

Sorrows they have no skill to heal !
Yet Grief, yet Pain, may visit all,

Though few possess the Poet's power
To bid soft strains of Music fall,

That sooth man's dark and moody hour :-
We may not pity him who hath

One Song to cheer his onward path !

But, Poet, if thy lesson well

From Trial and from Pain thou'st taken,
I need not teach thee what the spell

By which their influence may be shaken
I need not tell thee what the Book
In which for comfort thou must look !
Not Praise of men, not Laurels bound

By Beauty's fingers on thy brow -
Not all the Charms that throng around

The circle where Fame's torches glow –
Can chase a pang, or change a sin,
Or make a healthy life within !
When thou hast learnt thy hymns to raise

To God – whose Book, thy Harp beside,
Shall teach it such high Chants of Praise

As soar beyond all human Pride
Then Christ thy Theme, and Love thy Creed,

Thou shalt a Poet be indeed I" This volume is well worthy the attention of those who like to beguile a vacant half-hour by light reading.

The Moslem Noble ; His land and people. With some notices of

the Parsees or Ancient Persians. By Mrs. Young, Author of Cutch ;" Western India ;" Our camp in Turkey," ' ģc., 8c. With illustrations from original drawings by the Author. London, 1857.

This book derives its title from the fact that the well-known Nawaub of Surat is occasionally introduced into it. The lesson that it is intended to teach, seems to be that there is no difference between Europeans and Asiatics, or if there be, that it is all in favour of the latter ; and that there is no difference between Hinduism, Parseeism, Mohammedanism and Christianity, unless it be that the fourth system is rather inferior to the three others. This is not a doctrine that Englishmen will receive with very much favour just at present, when they will read Mrs. Young's text along with the practical comment upon it just published at Delhi, Bareilly and Cawnpore.

A Synopsis of Science, in Sanskrit and English reconciled with the

Truths to be found in the Nyaya Philosopắy. By J. R.
Ballantyne, 1857.

This work is dedicated to the memory of James Thomason, late Lieutenant Governor of the N. W. Provinces,--and well it may-for he was a warm friend to the plan of connecting the literature of the East and West, and of making western knowledge more acceptable

to the Hindus and Mussulmans by clothing it in an oriental garb. The same view was taken by the late Mr. Colvin of whose death we have lately heard. Both Governors considered that while the English language was to be studied as the store-house of ideas, the oriental languages had their proper position in making those ideas intelligible and adapted to the eastern mind.

This volume of Dr. Ballantyne is a collection of short popular Anglo-Sanskrit treatises on Rhetoric, Logic, Astronomy, Physics, Chemistry, Natural Science, Ethics. The first one relates to the studies pursued in the Benares Sanskrit College. His views are thus giver :

“ The most perfect European education bestowed upon a young Brahman, however great a blessing it might be to himself, would exert no beneficial influence beyond his own breast, if unaccompanied by the amount of Sanskrit erudition which is indispensable for securing any degree of respectful attention to his words.

“ Those who have heretofore had the direction of Educational measures in this country-whether on the part of Individuals, Associations, or the Government, appear to have acted for the most part on the principle of regarding the Hindoo mind, for all practical purposes, as a ' tabula rasa' in respect to any preconceived ideas, and pre-established system of literature, philosophy, or science either useful and valuable in themselves, or esteemed such by the people with whom we have to deal : and the effects of this appear to me to have been highly prejudicial in many ways; as I think a survey of the general results at our presidencies, as well as elsewhere, will satisfy most candid observers.

“ It has tended to segregate from the mass of their countrymen the eleves of our Schools and Colleges; and these, finding that they have no longer ideas in common with those of their brethren who have not been similarly educated, but are rather contemned by a large portion of them, at the same time that they are conscious of being more favourably regarded by the members of the ruling nation, and more nearly assimilating to them in sentiments, have very generally erinced a disposition to regard the former with contempt, and to imitate the least commendable of the peculiarities of the latter; a self-sufficient assumption of superiority taking the place of the humility which a mere entrance within the portals of the vast field of knowledge might be expected to produce. It has also greatly incapacitated these youths for the task of communicating to their countrymen the knowledge which they have themselves acquired, even if other circumstances favored the endeavour ; so that except to whatever extent 'circumstances may in any locality have given extension to the direct study of English, little or no progress has as yet been made towards inoculating the mass with the knowledge of the west; and lastly it has entirely repelled from us, by wounding their self-esteem and pride of learning, those classes who possess, and who, unless their position be more strategetically stormed, I doubt not will yet long continue to possess, almost unbounded influence over the large majority of the nation"

To a reader who is not aware of the relation- the still existing relation of the Hindu languages to their living and fostering parent the Sanskrit—the only parent to which they can look up for wholesome nourishment*, - it may seem

". It is a great and mischievous mistake to regard the Sanskrit in India in a dead language, in the sense which that term generally suggests. What is meant by a dead language ? Nine men out of ten will reply at once that it is a language no longer spoken by the people as their mother tongue. This definition at once suggests to six men at least out of ten, the idea of a language, the cnltivation of which, if desirable at all, is so mainly as a matter of intelligent curiosity. But a very little reflection will suffice to convince any one that of the languages which, in terms of the foregoing definition may be called dead by no means the whole fall under the description here suggested. For example, the Anglo-Saxon

paradoxical when I assert that the fit preparation of a version of any scientific treatise in Hindi, Bengali, Mahratta, Guzerati, Támil

, Telugù, and Sanskrit, is easier than the preparation of the same set of versions without the Sanskrit one. A little reflection will show that there is nothing strange in this. What is the difficulty—the transcendent difficulty - in translating a European work into an Oriental language? It is the difficulty of determining the exact amount of correspondency between the different portions of the knowledge, on any subject, elaborated by the East and West. and embodied in their respective forms of speech. Different philosophic or scientific theories give rise to different forms of expression ; and where this is disregarded or forgotten, we have the story of Babel repeated indefinitely. Now, this immense difference of cast, both in thought and expression, meets us in every Indian language which we try to make the vehicle of our knowledge ; but if the work which it is wished to communicate to all India is once put fitly into Sanskrit, the task is well-nigh done. There is little more difficulty in turning the Sanskrit work into each and all of the vernaculars, when there are properly instructed pandits of all nations at hand, than in turning so many ingots of gold into guineas, sovereigns, and half sovereigns, when the mint is at your command. When a book has been first rendered into unexceptionable Sanskrit, the risk of error, under proper supervision, is at an end ; whereas if translations are made into each language directly from the English, the risk of misconception perpetually recurs. A correct Sanskrit version is like the golden or platina rod deposited in the exchequer office, by which all the brass and wooden yard-measures in the country can be verified, or rectified. To obviate misconception it may be proper to add, that I wish the Sanskrit version to be regarded as the measure and criterion of the sense, not as the rigid exemplar of the form to be adhered to in the vernacular versions to which it shall supply the matter and the scientific terminology."

Dr. Ballantyne's pamphlet on translation, which is reprinted as an introduction to this volume, ought to be in the hands of every educationist.

is no longer spoken by the people of England, and neither is the Latin. To call them both dead languages, however does not fairly imply that their claims to attention are equal. In respect of their influence upon the spoken language of the day, the Anglo-Saxon from which. either as a Innguage or a literature, we have long since ceased to gain anything new, may be regarded as the deceased parent of the English; whilst the Latin, from which our language receives yearly accretions, and by whose literature the minds of each successive generation are moulded, acts the part of a living nurse though we may choose to hold it technically dead. But if the difference be great between these two which is hidden under the general name of dead language.” much more momentous is the difference which can slip fallaciously out of sight when the same conveniently loose cloak of a generalization based on the non-essential throws its misty folds around the Sanskrit also. The Sanskrit to all intents and purposes of any consequence, is no more dead than our reader, who would be able to insure his life on his own terms if he could show that he had the slightest chance of surviving it.”

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