term 'salt water in his eyes,' and spring like tigers on their prey. So habitual indeed has been the practice, that the missionaries say the Feejeean language contains no word for a simple corpse, but the term used implies the idea of food, just as we might have no other word than mutton to describe our sheep. It is even asserted that at periods of scarcity families will exchange children for this horrible purpose. But the ordinary mode of obtaining a supply in time of peace is by kidnapping, and as the flesh of women is preferred to that of men, these raids generally fall upon the softer sex. We shall quote one narrative from among the many horrors related by Captain Erskine, because the noble conduct of two English women in some degree mitigates its revolting features. Thakombau, the chieftain of Bau, having to give a return banquet, has surprised and captured fifteen women who came down to the beach to pick shell-fish for food.

On Sunday, the 29th of July (1849), the hollow sound of the awful' lali,' or sacred drum, bore across the water to Viwa the intelligence that a cargo of human victims had arrived in Bau, and a native Christian chief (I believe Namosemalua), who had quitted the capital to bring the information to the missions, related to the shuddering ladies, whose husbands were absent at Bau, in Sandalwood Bay, in Vanua Levu, on their usual annual meeting, the whole of the circumstances of the capture. In the course of the day, different reports as to the intentions of the authorities were brought over, but in the evening came a definitive one, that all were to be slaughtered on the

morrow.

And then was enacted a scene which ought to be ever memorable in the history of this mission.

On the Monday morning, Mrs. Lyth and Mrs. Calvert, accompanied only by the Christian chief above mentioned, embarked in a canoe for Bau to save the lives of the doomed victims. Each carried a whale's tooth decorated with ribbons, a necessary offering on prefering a petition to a chief, for even in this exciting moment, these admirable women did not neglect the ordinary means of succeeding in their benevolent object. As they landed at the wharf, not far from the house of old Tanoa, the father of Thakombau, and in this instance the person to whom they were to

address themselves, the shrieks of two women then being slaughtered for the day's entertainment, chilled their blood, but did not daunt their resolution. They were yet in time to save a remnant of the sacrifice. Ten had been killed and eaten; one had died of her wounds; the life of one girl had been begged by Thakombau's principal wife, to whom she was delivered as a slave, and three only remained. Regardless of the sanctity of the place, it being 'tabued' to women, they forced themselves into old Tanoa's chamber, who demanded, with astonishment at their temerity, what these women did there? The Christian chief, who well maintained his lately adopted character, answered for them, that they came to solicit the lives of the surviving prisoners, at the same time presenting the two whale's teeth. Tanoa, apparently still full of wonder, took up one of these, and, turning to a messenger, desired him to carry it immediately to Navindi (the executioner), and ask, 'If it were good. A few minutes were passed in anxious suspense. The messenger returned, and 'It is good,' was Navindi's answer. The women's cause was gained, and old Tanoa thus pronounced his judgment: Those who are dead, are dead; those who are alive, shall live.' With their three rescued fellow creatures these heroic women retired, and already had the satisfaction of experiencing that their daring efforts had produced a more than hoped-for effect. A year or two ago, no voice but that of derision would have been raised towards them, but now, on returning to their canoe, they were followed by numbers of their own sex, blessing them for their exertions, and urging them to persevere.

Medals of humane societies, and what not-how trumpery are such decorations compared with a memory like this!

But cannibalism is only one phase of the general blood-thirstiness of these savage islanders. When the king builds a house, a man is buried alive at the foot of each post to ensure the stability of the edifice. At the death of a chief, one or more of his wives are invariably strangled; and the chiefs themselves, when grown old or infirm, are buried alive, their wives in such cases being previously put to death, and thrown into the grave to make a bed for their doomed lord. The women, indeed, often make it a point of honour to die in this manner, and reject the efforts of the missionaries

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to save them. In order that canoes may be fortunate, they are frequently launched over the bodies of living slaves as rollers. There are instances of all these atrocities in the very interesting narrative of John Jackson, an English sailor, who lived a prisoner in these islands for two years, which Captain Erskine has printed in an Appendix; and they are amply confirmed by the Captain's own personal observation. But in Jackson's homely language these horrors are too revolting for quotation; and we can make but one short extract, showing that, with all their ferocity, the Feejeeans are humorists in their way. Here is their version of Les Anglais pour rire :

They sometimes amuse themselves with masquerades. I remember at one of the public masquerades, an individual who took the character of a white man,

and performed it so well, that he caused great mirth. He was clothed like a sailor, armed with a cutlass, and as a substitute for bad teeth (which is a proverbial characteristic of white men amongst these people), he had short pieces of black pipe-stems placed irregularly, which answered very well. The nose on his mask was of a disproportionate length, which they also say is another prominent feature, adding nothing to the beauty of white men. His hat was cocked on three hairs, in the sailor fashion, and made from banana leaves. In his mouth was a short black pipe, which he was puffing away as he strolled about, cutting the tops of any tender herb that happened to grow on either side. This masquerade is carried on by the slaves when they bring in the first fruits and offer them to the king; and even at such times, when allowance is made for not being over scrupulous in paying the accustomed deference to superiors, they nevertheless keep a little guard over themselves, and behave with more or

less decorum. But this mimicking sailor acted his part cleverly, and paid no attention whatever to decorum, but strutted about, puffing away at his pipe as unconcerned as though he was walking the forecastle.

The object of Captain Erskine's cruise was the encouragement and protection of commerce; and we regret to learn that the white traders of these seas are too often disgraced by treachery and cruelty worthy even of the Feejee islanders. A principal article of traffic is sandalwood, and the foulest means are

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sometimes adopted to obtain it,— natives of one island being kidnapped and carried off to cut it in another, where they are then abandoned to their fate. The mate of a Sydney vessel boasted of having shot six men, as he sailed along the coast of Eromango, one of the New Hebrides, merely in order to spoil the market for those who might come after him. In 1834, the commander of a French vessel, to obtain facilities for trading, permitted an island chief to cook and eat the body of an enemy on board his very ship. What wonder that in a subsequent dispute with his ally he was himself, together with the greater part of his crew, subjected to a like fate? The white residents, moreover, are in the habit of purchasing and maintaining female slaves-the common price being a musket; and the missionaries complain that even Christian women are sometimes thus bought, and, of course, forced into concubinage, by Englishmen. Such persons are by law amenable to the courts of New South Wales; but the distance and prolixity of the necessary proceedings render the jurisdiction almost nugatory; and Captain Erskine is anxious that one more effective should be created.

In noble contrast with these vagabonds stand the missionaries of Melanesia. We have already recorded the courageous devotion of Mrs. Lyth and Mrs. Calvert. Captain Erskine has constantly to record his admiration of similar traits. But he observes, that their own published accounts do them less than justice. They are for the most part Methodists, and repel the general reader by giving too much prominence to their peculiar views; assuming an ascetic tone, and being apt to parade miraculous interferences exerted in their behalf. But this sectarianism cannot hide their real merits: their disinterestedness, their zeal, and their possession of that virtue which, to use the Captain's words, Englishmen esteem beyond all others, undaunted personal courage.

We said we should again meet with Bishop Selwyn. He had fitted out a schooner of twenty tons, and now cruising among these

was

islands with the view of obtaining volunteers for education in New Zealand, who might afterwards return home and diffuse among their countrymen the advantages they had thus acquired. Captain Erskine falls in with the Bishop among the New Hebrides, and admires his boldness in sailing unarmed-no weapon of any kind having been allowed by him on board the Undine. But the perfect presence of mind and dignified bearing of Bishop Selwyn overawed even the savages of Eromango, whose hostility to white men is notorious. So it is wherever they go; every difficulty vanishes before this truly remarkable man, until, his number of pupils being complete, he departs for Auckland; and Captain Erskine's company wave their adieus to the Undine, admiring the commanding figure of the truly gallant Bishop of New Zealand, as steering his own little vessel, he stood, surrounded by the black heads of his disciples.'

We have said enough to show the great interest of Captain Erskine's journal. We have only to add that it abounds with information respecting the ethnology, commerce, and navigation of Melanesia, and is illustrated by portraits and landscapes.

Dr. Thomson's narrative* of his journey through the Himalaya mountains is almost too purely scientific in its character to occupy much of our space. The doctor seems to have eyes only for the flowers, and rocks, and glaciers that adorn or impede his way, and has scarcely a word to say of the inhabitants who may dwell beside it, or of his own train. Indeed, in reading his volume we were often impressed with the notion that he was absolutely alone-a sort of last man amid the awful solitude of those barren mountains. We can understand, therefore, how he was well entitled to the honour of giving his name to a rhododendron, and how valuable his labours have been to the botanist and geologist. Nor, perhaps, ought we to complain of

the absence of the human element from his journal; he knew his business, and has doubtless done it well. Yet travelling through regions almost unknown to Europeans, lodg ing in temples among idols of Buddha, encamping often at heights considerably greater than that of Mont Blanc, crossing mountain torrents by swinging bridges of willow twigs, halting awhile in the vale of Kashmir, and visiting the famous gardens of Shalimar, he might, we think, have made his narrative more picturesque without impairing its utilitarian qualities. And when he tells us in four lines how the inhabitants of a village where he was resting turned out with drums to scare away the demons who were eclipsing the sun; when en passant he mentions monasteries of Lamas ; when he tells how the way-side was strewn with the skeletons of packhorses, killed by fatigue under their burdens of merchandize; when he describes partridge hunting in the plain of Iskardo-we feel a wish to know more of the villagers, and monks, and merchants, and huntsmen. But while we thus express what are perhaps unreasonable desires, we are bound to add that Dr. Thomson fully succeeds in impres sing us with a very sublime idea of the region he explored, a vast table land, where the bottoms of the valleys average some 15,000 feet above the level of the sea, and the mountain peaks ascend seven thousand higher. His book is adorned by two coloured plates of Iskardo, and illustrated by an elaborate map.

Continuing our sojourn in Asia, we now take up Mr. Raikes' Notes on the North-Western Provinces of India.t This, again, is a work hardly within the designation of travels, but as it presents us with some lively and graphic pictures of life among the Rajpoots we shall

venture to include it in our review. Mr. Raikes' official character gives him ample opportunities of observation, and an evidently warm heart and genuine turn for humour enable him

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to make the most of them. Without pausing on his political views, which are favourable to the village system, we will at once borrow two stories from his work racy with oriental flavour. Mr. Raikes will allow us to plead our narrow space in excuse for abridgments which we must confess to be detrimental.

The rajpoot has the clannish feelings and feuds, the love of a ride across the border, the readiness to appeal to sword or club, which marked our Celtic forefathers. He has also the endurance of toil, the tenacity of purpose and affection, the devotion to the household gods, the homestead and the soil, of our Saxon ancestors. Such was Holasi Singh, the elder of two brothers, proprietors of the village of Mullowlie, within Mr. Raikes's district. Thrifty and industrious, their wealth attracted a party of dacoits; Holasi was roused at dead of night, found his brother engaged with the robbers, and arrived only in time to avenge his death, and save the lives of his infant sons, of whom the elder was named Ewuz. Years passed away; Ewuz had married; old Holasi, declining in life, had made over his estates to his son, Bijayee Singh, as fine a fellow (says Mr. Raikes) as you often meet, courageous and high-spirited as became a rajpoot, yet gentle as a lamb. The harmony of the family continued uninterrupted, until Ewuz Singh was stimulated, by his wife's relations, to demand a division of the hereditary estate. To this he was entitled by law, but old Holasi, being strongly attached to the patriarchal style of life, obstinately resisted the partition. The case came before Mr. Raikes. It soon appeared that the division of the dwelling-house was the main source of difficulty. Both Ewuz and Bijayee were living in it, and neither would yield to the other. It was settled to refer the question to arbitration, and the collector was leaving the fort, when old Holasi, now so infirm that he had to be carried from place to place, eagerly called him back. Sir, sir,' he whispered, 'you must not go yet: you must do Holasi justice, or these lads will fight, and destroy themselves and me. There is treasure buried in Mullowlie fort, and you must come and dig it up. Lift me up quick, lads, and carry me to the inner house.' Scaring the women before them, his son and another stout fellow bore Holasi into the quadrangle. 'Let me down there,' screamed the old man, 'there.' It was a room where Ewuz Singh's wife had just been cooking her husband's ample meal. Fires were blaz VOL. CCLVIII. NO. CCLXXXV.

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So

ing, and vessels sending forth a savoury steam. Away with all that,' shouted Holasi, 'out with the fire, away with the ashes; and now, my boys, dig.' Ewuz said, 'Sir, this is my house; you may dig here, but you will allow me to dig in Bijayee Singh's house; there is the treasure, and not here.' All agreed. Two sturdy fellows were soon working away, with the peculiar zeal of natives in digging down a neighbour's wall, while Ewuz flinched, as if hurt, at every stroke of the spade. The diggers were buried to the shoulders, and patience was oozing away, when a spade struck upon an earthen pot, full of rupees. There are more,' cried Holasi, as they paused in their labour. deeper and deeper the digging went on, till a brass vessel was reached, and hoisted out, also filled with coin. All went to work, some washing, some counting, the village bunyan weighing, and two tailors stitching large bags of cotton-cloth, for the money. It amounted to 8710 rupees. Now came the turn of Ewuz. But Bijayee's apartments were long and dark; Ewuz evidently did not know where to look. Growing despe rate, 'I'll go,' he exclaimed, and bring my mother; she knows all about it.' Away he rushed, and returned presently, bearing in his arms what seemed a bundle of clothes. The old lady, emerging from the folds, looked round as if scared, and then, stretching out a withered forefinger, pointed to a distant wall. A foot below the surface, Ewuz came upon an earthen vessel of coin. My mother's rupees!' he exclaimed ; but the collector interposed. When did your mother bury her treasure?' 'Twenty years

ago.'

Then this is not hers, for here, see, is the head of Queen Victoria.' It was, in fact, Bijayee's money, buried at the close of the last harvest. But the old dame still kept her shrivelled finger pointed to the ground, and again Ewuz went to work. Mr. Raikes strolled out into the court; he was recalled by a shout; Ewuz was up to his knees in rupees. Together with what had been found before, there were now 21,804 rupees. The knotty question of its division was solved by Bijayee. "Take the money, sir,' he said, addressing the collector, I have plenty; take it all, give it to Ewuz: only ask him'-and a tear trickled down his face,-ask him to love Holasi and me, and not to bring dissension into our home; other money I can get, but where shall I find another brother?' Ewuz melted, and fell at his brother's feet. The reconciliation was complete, and, we are glad to learn, has continued undisturbed.

Our second story is of a different

S

kind, and may remind our readers of Picciola.

A friend of the author was walking through the ward of his district gaol, where the prisoners under trial were confined, when he was accosted by a middle-aged man, with small, red-looking, wild eyes, grizzled hair, and a forehead running up to point. They killed my child,' he reiterated, they killed my child! I brought him up from so high,' lowering his hand near to the ground; 'I watched him, and cherished him; but they killed him without any fault or crime.' Inquiry brought out that the prisoner was on trial for murder, and the child he thus lamented was a pet tree which had been cut down by the police. A native supplied the details. Beerbul, the prisoner, was a parcher of grain by trade, an odd reserved sort of man, without children, who cared for nobody but his old wife, and for nothing but one pet tree, which he had planted when a boy, and married, after his own marriage, to a well in his court-yard. Every morning he and his wife poured water over the tree, which they looked upon as their child. By ill-luck, a branch of the tree overhung the adjoining wall, and damaged the plaster by its droppings. The neighbour, Putnee Mul, demanded that it should be cut off, but Beerbul had no notion of mutilating his beloved tree, and returned a cross answer. went to the police, complained that the tree opened a road for robbers to his house, and obtained a too hasty order for its being felled. This was done. Beerbul came home in the evening with a basket of leaves for his oven on his head, and found his wife crying and beating her breast, and his door-way

Putnee

blocked up with the fallen tree. Putnee called out, 'Well, Beerbul, will you do as I bid you in future, or not?' Beerbul was silent, but murder was in his heart.

Next morning, as Putnee Mul came out in the early dawn, he saw what looked like three lights under his neighbour's wall; two were the blood-red eyes of Beerbul, the third was his match. The next instant Putnee was on the ground, with four bullets from the matchlock in his heart. Beerbul then sprang upon the corpse, hacked off the arms and the head and stuck them on the trunk and branches of his tree, and then stooping down, drank from the hollow of his hand three mouthfuls of his enemy's blood. This done he reloaded his matchlock, and with it and his sword, dagger, bow and arrows, took his post on the roof of his house. Hours passed on, but none were bold enough to seize the murderer. A dog came to smell at the body, and Beerbul pinned him to the ground with an arrow. The day and the night went by, and his wife could be heard encouraging him, 'Well done, rajah! die like a man, and never let them tie your hands.' The police surrounded the house, but none ventured within range of the matchlock. But at the close of the second day, Beerbul was induced to descend by an artifice, pounced upon, and secured. The trial ended in his being sent to the kala panee, or black water, as transportation is termed up the country.

And with this anecdote we must take leave at once of Mr. Raikes' pleasant volume, and of the other travellers with whom we have been journeying.