Bishop Heber's India.

BENARES, THE CAPITAL OF INDIA. No Europeans live in the town, nor are the streets wide enough for a wheel-carriage. Mr. Frazer's gig was stopped short almost in its entrance, and the rest of the way was passed in tonjons, through alleys so crowded, so narrow, and so winding, that even a tonjon* sometimes passed with difficulty. The houses are mostly lofty, none I think less than two stories, most of three, and several of five or six, a sight which I now for the first time saw in India. The streets, like those of Chester, are considerably lower than the ground-floors of the houses, which have mostly arched rows in front, with little shops behind them. Above these, the houses are richly embellished with verandahs, galleries, projecting oriel windows, and very broad and overhanging eaves, supported by carved brackets. The number of temples is very great, mostly small and stuck like shrines in the angles of the streets, and under the shadow of the lofty houses. Their forms, however, are not ungraceful, and there are many of them entirely covered over with beautiful and elaborate carvings of flowers, animals, and palm-branches, equalling in minuteness and richness the best specimens that I have seen of Gothic or Grecian architecture. The material of the buildings is a very good stone, from Chunar, but the Hindoos here seem fond of painting them a deep red colour, and, indeed, of covering the more conspicuous parts of their houses with paintings in gaudy colours of flower-pots, men, women, bulls, elephants, gods and goddesses, in all their many-formed, many-headed, many-handed, and many-weaponed varieties. The sacred bulls devoted to Siva, of every age, tame and familiar as mastiffs, walk lazily up and down these narrow streets, or are seen lying across them, and hardly to be kicked up (any blows, indeed, given them must be of the gentlest kind, or woe be to the profane wretch who braves the prejudices of this fanatic population) in order to make way for the tonjon. Monkeys sacred to Hunimaun, the divine ape conquered Ceylon for Rama, are in some parts of the town equally numerous, clinging to all the roofs and little projections of the temples, putting their impertinent heads and hands into every fruiterer's or confectioner's shop, and snatching the food from the children at their meals. Faqueer's houses, as they are called, occur at every turn, adorned with idols, and sending out an unceasing tinkling * A species of litter.

who

and strumming of vinas, biyals, and other discordant instruments; while religious mendicants of every Hindoo sect, offering every conceivable deformity, which chalk, cow-dung, disease, matted locks, distorted limbs and disgusting and hideous attitudes of penance can show, literally line the principal streets on both sides. The number of blind persons is very great (I was going to say of lepers also, but I am not sure whether the appearance on the skin may not have been filth and chalk); and here I saw repeated instances of that penance of which I had heard much in Europe, of men with their legs or arms voluntarily distorted by keeping them in one position, and their hands clenched till the nails grew out at the backs. Their pitiful exclamations as we passed, “Agha Sahib," "Topee Sahib," (the usual names in Hindostan for an European,) "khana ke waste kooch cheez do," "give me something to eat," soon drew from me what few pice I had; but it was a drop of water in the ocean, and the importunities of the rest, as we advanced into the city, were almost drowned in the hubbub which surrounded us. Such are the sights and sounds which greet a stranger on entering this "the most Holy City" of Hindostan, "the Lotus of the world, not founded on common earth, but on the point of Siva's trident," a place so blessed, that whoever dies here, of whatever sect, even though he should be an eater of beef, so he will but be charitable to the poor Brahmins, is sure of salvation. It is, in fact, this very holiness which makes it the common resort of beggars; since, besides the number of pilgrims, which is enormous, from every part of India, as well as from Tibet and the Birman em

pire, a great multitude of rich individuals in the decline of life, and almost all the great men who are from time to time disgraced or banished from home by the revolutions which are continually occurring in the Hindoo states, come hither to wash away their sins, or to fill up their vacant hours with the gaudy ceremonies of their religion, and really give away great sums in profuse and indiscriminate charity.

AN EVENING WALK IN BENGAL.
OUR task is done! on Gunga's breast
The sun is sinking down to rest:
And, moored beneath the tamarind bough,
Our bark has found its harbour now.
With furled sail, and painted side,
Behold the tiny frigate ride.

Upon her deck, 'mid charcoal gleams,
While all apart, beneath the wood,
The Moslems' savoury supper steams,
The Hindoo cooks his simpler food.

Come walk with me the jungle through; If yonder hunter told us true,

Far off, in desert dank and rude,
The tyger holds his solitude;
Nor (taught by recent harm to shun
The thunders of the English gun,)
A dreadful guest but rarely seen,
Returns to scare the village green.
Come boldly on! no venom'd snake
Can shelter in so cool a brake.
Child of the sun! he loves to lie
'Mid Nature's embers, parched and dry,
Where o'er some tower in ruin laid,
The peeput spreads its haunted shade;
Or round a tomb his scales to wreathe,
Fit warder in the gate of death!
Come on! Yet pause! behold us now
Beneath the bamboo's arched bough,
Where, gemming oft that sacred gloom,
Glows the geranium's scarlet bloom,*
And winds our path through many a bower
Of fragrant tree and giant flower;
The ceiba's crimson pomp display'd
O'er the broad plantain's humbler shade,
And dusk anana's prickly blade;
While o'er the brake, so wild and fair,
The betel waves his crest in air.
With pendent train and rushing wings,
Aloft the gorgeous peacock springs;
And he, the bird of hundred dyes,
Whose plumes the dames of Ava prize.
So rich a shade, so green a sod,
Our English faries never trod;
Yet who in Indian bow'r has stood,

But thought on England's "good green wood?"
And bless'd, beneath the palmy shade,
Her hazel and her hawthorn glade,

And breath'd a pray'r, (how oft in vain!)
To gaze upon her oaks again?

A truce to thought! the jackall's cry
Resounds like sylvan revelry;
And through the trees, yon falling ray
Will scantly serve to guide our way.
Yet mark! as fade the upper skies,
Each tricket opes ten thousand eyes.
Before, beside us, and above,
The fire-fly lights his lamp of love,
Retreating, chasing, sinking, soaring,
The darkness of the copse exploring;
While to this cooler air confest,
The broad Dhatura bares her breast,
Of fragrant scent and virgin white,
A pearl around the locks of night!
Still as we pass in softened hum,
Along the breezy alleys come
The village song, the horn, the drum.
Still as we pass, from bush and briar,
The shrill cigala strikes his lyre;
And, what is she whose liquid strain
Thrills through yon copse of sugar-cane?
I know that soul-entrancing swell!
It is it must be-Philomel!

Enough, enough, the rustling trees
Announce a shower upon the breeze,-
The flashes of the summer sky
Assume a deeper, ruddier dye;
Yon lamp that trembles on the stream,
From forth our cabin sheds its beam;
And we must early sleep, to find
Betimes the morning's healthy wind.
But oh! with thankful hearts confess
Ev'n here there may be happiness;
And He, the bounteous Sire, has given
His peace on earth-his hope of heaven!
Heber's Indian Journals.

BONNETS OF BONNIE DUNDEE.
By Sir Walter Scott, Bart.

To the Lords of Convention, 'twas Clavers who spoke,

Ere the king's crown go down, there are crowns to be broke:

A shrub whose deep scarlet flowers very much resemble the geranium, and thence called the Indian geranium.

So each cavalier, who loves honour and me,
Let him follow the bonnet of bonnie Dundee.
Come, fill up my cup, come fill up my can,
Come, saddle my horses, and call up my men;
Come, open the West-port, and let me gae
free,

And its room for the bonnets of bonnie Dundee.

Dundee he is mounted-he rides up the street, The bells are rung backwards, the drums they are beat;

But the provost, douse man, said, "Just e'en let him be,

The town is weel quit of that de'il f Dundee." Come, fill up, &c.

As he rode down the sanctified bends of the Bow, Each carline was flyting and shaking her pow; But some young plants of grace-they took'd couthie and slee,

Thinking-Luck to thy bonnet, thou bonnie Dundee.

Come, fill up, &c.

THIS is one of the most recent and splendid embellishments of the French metropolis

The Exchange of Paris was first established in 1724; but the erection of an edifice specially devoted to commercial transactions was not decided on till 1808, when M. Brongniard, architect, supplied the plans for the present Exchange. The works proceeded with activity till 1814, when they were suspended; they have, however, since been resumed, and this useful and sumptuous structure was first opened to the public Nov. 9, 1826, being the birth-day of the present king of France.

The form of the new exchange is a parallelogram of 212 feet by 126. It is surrounded by a peristyle of sixty-six Corinthian columns, supporting an entablature and an attic, and forming a covered gallery, which is approached by a flight of steps, extending the whole width or the western front. Over the entrance is inscribed, in letters of bronze gilt, BOURSE ET TRIBUNAL DE COM

MERCE

to the private rooms of the Agens and Courtiers de Change; and on the left to the Tribunal de Commerce, the judges of which are nominated by the principal merchants, subject to the approbation of the king. The Salle de la Bourse, (where the merchants assemble as in the square of our Exchange,) is in the centre of the building, on the ground floor, &c., 116 feet in length, by 76 in breadth. It is well lighted by the roof, and will contain 2,000 persons. The cieling is richly sculptured with commercial emblems, in which is introduced a beautifully painted medallion of Charles X., so well executed as to be mistaken for alto relievo.

It

Altogether, the new exchange is an elegant structure. Its material is fine white stone, with marble and stone floors, through which ascends heated air. occupies the site of the convent des Filles Saint Thomas; and when the improvements of the neighbourhood are completed, it will form one of the handsomest squares in Paris.

VOL XI.

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ceeded under the direction of Labarre. When the remains of the former were conveyed to their place of interment, the procession made a long pause before the new exchange, and the workmen, having descended from their scaffolds, drew up in a line, and rendered their last homage to the distinguished talents of their departed master.

THE JUSTINIAN CODE,

OR THE REFORMATION OF THE OLD ROMAN LAW AND ANCIENT PLEADING.

was

(For the Mirror.)

AMONG the Athenians, an equal time allowed both parties to plead, which was measured by a water hourglass; and in order to see justice done in this respect, there was an officer appointed to distribute the water to each, whence

he was called ephydor. When the glass had run out, they were not permitted to speak any farther; and therefore they were very careful not to lose one drop of water; whilst the laws quoted by them were reciting, or if any other business happened to intervene, they gave orders that the glass should be stopped. If any person (says Potter) had made an end of speaking before the time allotted him was expired, he was permitted to resign the remaining part of the water to any other that had occasion; and this is meant by the orator when he saith" Let him speak till what remains of my water be run out." (See Potter's "Antiquities of Greece.") In England, it appears, that from the time of the Conquest, all plead ing was performed in French till the time of Edward III. when it was appointed that the pleas should be pleaded in English, but that they should be entered or recorded in Latin; but now by 4th George II. cap. 26, it is enacted, that all proceedings in courts of justice shall be in English. In France and England, it was prohibited to have any formed, or prepared pleading, or to amuse the court with long artificial harangues; only, in important matters, it was the settled custom to begin the pleadings with a passage in holy scripture. Modern pleading is well known, and beats out of the field all the Athenian water hour

glasses. Some of our present special pleadings would out-run a little river. P. T. W.

DEAF AND DUMB ASYLUM,
KENT ROAD.

(To the Editor of the Mirror.) SIR,-In a former volume of the MIR

ROR I recollect seeing "The Manual Alphabet" for the use of the Deaf and Dumb, and I can now add that the learned Dr. Watson, of the Deaf and Dumb Asylum, Kent Road, has succeeded in teaching his pupils to speak!

At the Mechanics' Institution, on Friday evening week, Dr. Birkbeck on lecturing on the organs of sense, introduced three boys from the Asylum, who had been taught to speak. Dr. Watson who conducts the seminary in the Kent-road, has raised the art to great perfection. The doctor commences by shewing the deaf and dumb boy the object he wishes him to name; the doctor uncovers his own and distinctly repeatedly; he then makes throat and pronounces the word slowly the boy watch the motion of his lips, and put his fingers to his bare throat to feel the progress of the words. The boy word, and the doctor finds that after a then makes an effort to pronounce the

few lessons and close attention to the formation of the words, the boy succeeds. Without hearing a sound he learns by his sight to speak, which three of the Pupils on the evening above mentioned testified to a very attentive audience.

There were four verses of Gray's Elegy recited by them with very appropriate gestures and voices that needed nothing

but modulation.

CHRIST'S HOSPITAL.
(For the Mirror.)

"Early to bed, early to rise,

Makes a man healthy, wealthy, and wise." Y

In a recent number of the MIRROR Will be found an engraving and description of Christ's Hospital, and in the present communication will be found a particular fact relating thereto. Every act of be peasant, should in the history of every nevolence that is done either by king or public charity be faithfully recorded. I was led to this reflection in reading Holmunificence of Edward VI. (in founding linshed's History, the effect which the Christ's Hospital) had on the mind of an honest shoemaker in Westminster, which I shall give in the historian's own language, not remembering to have seen it noticed any where else. After enumerating the liberality of Sir William Plarta, Knt. and others, he proceeds to the subject of my letter thus :-" Thíз