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COUNTRIES AND RACES OF INDIA.

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HOEVER thinks of India as one country, occupied by a homogeneous population, errs quite as much as he would in taking all Europe to constitute a single nation, in ignorance of such varieties of race as the Saxon, the Sclavic, the Magyar and others. There is in India quite as much diversity of native governments, religions, social institutions, and popular characteristics.

But, in the first place, let us take a brief glance at the territorial divisions of the region now under British sway. Most are familiar with the fact that their possessions include the three Presidencies of Bengal, Bombay, and Madras-each having its Governor-but the whole being under the Governor-General, who is Governor of Bengal, and resides at Calcutta. Of Bengal, the most extended and populous of these provinces, there are four great subdivisions. Bengal proper, lying about the lower Ganges, and reaching from Calcutta to Benares, has a population of more than fifty millions, and is the centre of British power in India. The North-western Province, belonging to the Bengal Presidency, embraces the regions of the upper Ganges, and has a population of twenty-five millions. This province, having Agra for its capital and Delhi for its arsenal, is the seat of the recent mutinies, and was substantially held, at the last accounts, by the rebel Sepoys. The ancient kingdom of Oude is in the same province. Still further to the north-west, in the rich region of the five convergent rivers which form the Indus, is the Punjaub, with an exceedingly vigorous population of five millions. The territory on the east of the Bay of Bengal, including the recent acquisitions from Burmah, completes the sub-divisions of the Bengal Presidency. But it should be borne in mind that they are mainly English divisions, and cover what were once many ancient kingdoms of unrelated dynasties. The entire population of this Presidency is not less than seventy-six millions.

The Presidency of Bombay lies on the west coast of India, and has a population of ten millions. The Presidency of Madras includes the eastern coast and the whole southern portion of the Peninsula, and numbers a population of twenty-two millions. Adjoining these two provinces are several dependent kingdoms, governed by native princes, who are substantial rulers to a certain degree, maintaining armies of their own, and keeping up a contingent for British service. The most important of these is that of the Nizan, with its capital Hyderabad, and a population of ten millions. This kingdom is the chief remaining fragment of the old Mohammedan empire, and is in the Deccan, or central portion of Southern India. As we go north, we come to Nappoor, another of these dependencies, with five millionsGwalior, with three millions-the Rajpoot states, with eight millions-the Sikh states, Cashmere and Nepaul. The ancient boundaries of these kingdoms have been blotted out, except so far as might suit the convenience of the British government. We have enumerated only a part of what, in some time in the past, constituted different countries, as we usually understand the word, inhabited by different races, indigenous or foreign, and characterized by diverse dialects, governments and religions. In looking to the present population of British India, we are met with great diversity of estimates. Hamilton put it down at 134,000,000, and Elphinstone at 140,000,000. As these estimates were made before the acquisition of Scinde and the Punjaub, we may safely assume the entire population at 150,000,000. Of these, the Mohammedans number, according to various estimates, from 10,000,000 to 18,000,000. All the rest are Hindoos, excepting two or three millions of the indigenous races, known by the most frequent name of Coolies, and 75,000 Parsees. The latter are the "fire-worshippers," an intelligent and enterprising race, who came into India from Persia. The Coolies, or natives proper, under many names,

have their history in obscurity, and it is not known whether they were originally one people or several. The Hindoos, with their singular institution of caste, came into India from the north-west, twelve or fourteen centuries before Christ, overcame the natives, and set up distinct sovereignties. The Mohammedans invaded the country-or rather began their series of invasions in the tenth century, A. D., from Persia, Afghanistan, and Arabia. It is estimated that about one-half of the present Mohammedans are descendants of these invaders, and the remainder of proselyted Hindoos. They are most numerous in the valley of the Ganges, where their power was first established. The Nizam is at present the most important remnant of their power, which, for a long period ruling all of India that was deemed worth ruling, began to fall to pieces on the death of Aurungzebe, in 1760.—Boston Journal.

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Thus Governments, which once kept afar the inquiries of the popular mass into their procedures by pompous awes and terrors, have at last felt the veritable pressure of the common hand upon their shoulders, and have so been compelled to render at least some plausible reason for their existence and authority.

The Church too-no longer, in the popular faith, bearing a character, like that of the Hebrew Ark, which it was death even to touch-has been not only generally, but even rudely handled, and has been constrained to admit, that its sole title to veneration, or to existence must be its palpable bestowment of great and continuous blessings upon the world.

Nor have social institutions alone been

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thus thoroughly probed, but social usages no less.

For example:-intemperance, that monster curse, coeval well nigh with the globe itself, which has nearly decimated every successive generation of the race for a doom bitterer than death, and whose ravages men had almost ceased to resist, even in the case of their best beloved or themselves, so palsied were they by its terrors -even this has been bravely, and in a multitude of instances, triumphantly assaulted, and thus assaulted, too, not only by the people at large, but by its own selfemancipated slave, and the old, parched earth grows green in expectancy of eventual complete redemption.

Madness, too, that hideous mystery, in which former generations, bewildered and horror-stricken, beheld a veritable diabolic possession, and around which, in their irrational agitation, they multiplied fetters and dungeons, and barbarous stripes-even this has been found to melt like snow in the sun, beneath the irresistible warmth of simple kindnsss; and "the sweet bells, jangled out of tune," have responded accordingly to the striking key-note of love!

Nor has the "prisoner," in bonds, been forgotten. The cordon, once rigorously drawn around the judicially doomed, as if tainted with leprosy or plague, and therefore communicating death by their contact or proximity, has been broken through or overleaped by the spirit of philanthropy. The principle has been affirmed, that the criminal is yet a man, retaining entire the responsibilities, and destinies, and hopes of a man; and that society owes him the duty of making his incarceration a means of fitting him to issue forth healed (if possible,) of the moral malady, that gave occasion for it, and qualified for the efficient service of God and Humanity. Most marvellous, indeed, the change in the prisoner's state, commencing with that hero of philanthropy, Howard! It might almost seem as though that penitent, doomed one of old, who, on the cross proffered allegiance to the "King of the Jews," who had

been rejected by the world's "honorable ones," had bequeathed a blessing to those afterwards to share his lot. For as he found the "freedom of the soul" even in the hid eous confinement of the "accursed tree," so has many a prison of our day witnessed its bondman delivered from the "bondage of corruption" into the glorious liberty of the children of God."

means of communication and transportation between sections of the same country, and between ocean-sundered countries, and for the kindred purposes, has also been applied to a great variety of objects, greater and smaller, in almost every sphere of life. In Fire, Marine, and Life Insurance Companies-in associations like the "Odd Fellows," the "Good Fellows," the "Sons of Temperance," the "Rechabites,” and numerous others, that might be named, we have examples of the principle in question. By these means the evil effects of casualties, of sudden reverses, and of those manifold calamities and disappointments to which all are alike subject, are greatly mitigated, if not entirely remedied.

In all these associations we witness simply the extension of that fundamental natural principle, which not only prompted but constrained men to unite their forces, and thus constitute neighborhoods, communities and nations. Not merely is it "not good for man to be alone," but it is not possible for him thus to be-at least to any of the principal ends for which he was manifestly created.

This spirit of reform finds, perhaps, its culmination in the Missionary enterprises of the age. These, within the last halfcentury, have assumed a magnitude and completeness of organization, which make them an exceedingly imposing spectacle. Their projectors undertake, not merely to reform one or another class of people, or to amend this or that institution or usage, but to regenerate the whole formative principles, religious and secular, with their resultant institutions and life-customs, of entire nations and continents! Witness the missionary crusades to Asia, Africa and the multitudinous isles of the seas, and note too the higher than chivalrous qualities of the actors therein! What knightly enterprise of either ancient or mediæval times can be named, which parallels, in boldness and persistent hardihood, not to mention philanthropic disinterestedness, that of the modern Missionary to a sav-infest, and darken man's earthly condition, age, a barbarous, or a semi-civilized population! To break assunder the ties of home and kindred, and "fatherland"-to surrender all the prerogatives of civilization and refinement-and without the "pride, pomp and circumstance" inflaming the senses, or dreams of glory dazzling the imagination, to wage wearisome, lifelong conflict with grossest ignorance and vice in all their repulsive varieties-here a spectacle is exhibited which no feats of arms, how brilliant soever, can either match, or even approximate.

One interesting feature in the Reform movements of the age, is the largely various application of the principle of association or combination. The principle which had been found so useful in building turnpike and railroads and canals, in creating

For ourselves, we believe that for extirpating the evils of all kinds, which, after 6000 years experience, still so burden and

and for ushering in that "better day," which all wish and hope, and which revelation would seem to predict as lying in the future, our principal secular reliance must be upon association-upon the union of numbers, alike to remove evils, and to promote ends of good.

That mistakes have been made-and that mistakes will be made-and visionary things attempted by this means, neither do nor can invalidate the importance and utility of the principle. It still remains true, that to combination, wisely made and under the Divine guidance, we must look for the redemption of man's estate.

Be it frankly conceded, it was a noble impulse, that urged the crusading hosts to the rescue of their Christian brethren in Palestine from Saracen oppression. From

He must

those brethren, however, at all events, they | A tattered hood covers her head with its might count on sympathy and cordial wel- scanty white locks, and the cloak about come; whereas the missionary toils for her seems a remembrancer of defunct those who regard him, at best as a stranger, fashions. Life must long since have beand sometimes as an enemy. come a sad pilgrimage to such as she; and brave the arousing of that most pitiless of yet the world, or some objects that the human passions, religious hate. He must world contains, must still retain a strong ofttimes "do his devoir," not in the pre- hold on her affections. Perhaps it is for sence of applauding peers, but of covert others that she defies the dark atmosphere ill-willers, or patent contemners. With and threatening skies. Perhaps, the stern his sweat and his tears, and not unfre- demands of hunger allow her not to pause. quently his blood, he must moisten a soil Alas for poverty and helpless age! Alas which, after all, may not, to his eye, show for those who outlive the delight, but cana solitary green blade in remuneration of not escape the miseries of life! his toils. Amid all imaginable sacrifices and privations, obstacles and discouragements in perpetual jeopardy of falling uncompassionated and unsung-this peaceful "soldier of the cross" must fight through his long battle-day, content if he hear, not the inspiriting shouts of his fellow men, but the low whispers of approving conscience! Nor are men the sole actors in this stupendous undertaking. Women also—yea, delicate, cultivated and refined women-are, in large numbers, the full participants in whatever is done and endured therein.

WHAT WE SEE FROM THE WINDOW.
TREET gazing has been called an idle

S practice, and yet one may moralize

from an open window as well as in some hermit cell. The day is heavy and sunless. A small, thin rain comes silently, perseveringly to the ground, slowly bathing the wet pavement, and swelling the mud pools that deform the crossings, and roll turbidly along the gutters. Yet many are abroad this day, called out on affairs which doubtless do not admit of procrasti

nation.

An aged woman crawls past with infirm step and bending form. Carefully she selects her way, for her feet are ill defended from the water, and her weakness renders her liable to tumble over the least obstruction. Care and want are written on her shrivelled features. Her garments are, like her countenance, time-worn and faded.

Following her is a brisk shopman, in comfortable costume, with umbrella, cloak and furred gloves. "Action seems," indeed, "the condition of his being ;" and if his action be more unpoetic than that of the noble lord whose language we have here quoted, yet the probabilities are that it is more useful. He has the look of being over on the alert, of losing no time, and of "getting on," as the saying is. Well! he certainly gets forward famously through mud and rain.

But a wan child succeeds him, and on that object the eye of compassion turns, remembering his words, who said, "Of such is the kingdom of heaven." Childhood should be innocent; but this face is

marked by precocious cunning and sus

picion. Fearful is world-hardened youth -ominous its prophecy! Conjecture is at fault, when we attempt to follow that neglected and miserable child to his home of destitution-if, indeed, there is any obscure spot in this great city which he can dignify with a name so hallowed. A waif, he seems, on the ocean of life-a chance atom in the world of humanity! Yet, we know that the sleepless eye of an ever-watchful Providence notes even such as he.

But a gay young lady treads fast in his steps. It seems that rain, wind and clouds, cannot deter her from her daily walk in the street, so accustomed is she to go forth, gaily attired, and meet the admiring gaze of the crowd. True, there are not many abroad on whom she can make an impres

sion in such weather, yet there are some. One of these may chance to be a fashionable friend, and therefore she must be dressed with her usual elegance. It is of little consequence that a rich silk dress, absurdly long, is dragged in the inky mire. What signifies the perfect destruction of a superb pair of French gaiters, besides the wetting of her feet, or the injury which a tiny bonnet of exquisite materials sustains! She must have her walk, she must dress in a certain style, and a fig for the consequences. She does not consider what a charm appropriateness adds to dress; although this nameless grace is fully illustrated by her successor―a pale, modest looking girl, who wears a simple straw bonnet, a grey plaided shawl, and thick soled morocco bootees, cased in India rubber overshoes. Consistency, good taste, and prudence, we readily ascribe to the latter, while the former impresses with the idea that we are contemplating a vain and reckless person-one who is willing to sacrifice everything to appearances, yet has not the discrimination to know what, after all, produces the best effect.

Here is an organ player, bending under the weight of his instrument, followed by a woman thinly clad, bearing in her arms a sallow child. All three have a foreign aspect; and what their history, and how they subsist, we know not. On they pass, and a sturdy man with rubicund face, stout woollen vestments, and boots of most protective thickness, steps briskly forward, armed with door mats, strapped over his shoulders and breast. He rings perseveringly at every door, and, though often unsuccessful, yet sometimes effects a sale. The day is one certainly demanding mats, and the dripping condition of the steps on which he stands while recommending a purchase, adds force to his suggestions. He seems a very honest man, very much in earnest, and we wish him success.

A rumbling omnibus goes slowly and heavily over the stones with its crowd of passengers, who, by force of contrast, enjoy their snug quarters, and eye the less

fortunate pedestrians with the self-complacency we are apt to feel when we find our. selves in better condition than our neighbors. The driver enjoys his elevation above the crowd, and cracks his whip composedly above the heads of those ensconced within, and splashing through mire without.

Plodding on in silence, yonder goes one on whom the plague-spot of poverty rests, that plague-spot from which men flee with such trepidation. To him is denied the cheerful light of day, and the majestic charms of night. For him Spring blooms in vain, and her bright winged birds spread vainly their plumage in the clear sunshine. He sees not, and many a long year has passed, perchance, since the night closed around him that shall never be dispelled. A little boy leads him by the hand. Note his exterior! An old hat, no longer black, covers his head, and, partly, thin grey hairs. Before his sightless balls is placed a pair of green spectacles, probably to conceal the deformity of their aspect. Time-worn garments envelope his rather slender form. His face is placid, wearing that peculiar look of resignation, said to belong only to the blind. Afflictions produce patience, and habit reconciles man to almost any state of existence, short of actual torment in this world. We thought, as the unseeing solitary went past, some of us might learn a lesson of calm endurance from his example.

A troubled banker, with rapid strides, marches after the blind man. The skies are not more clouded than his brows. Apprehension and dismay sit on his features. He little recks of the stormy weather, for a commercial storm wraps him in its fury. Perplexed and vexed, his toiling mind seeks to avert the crisis, which may strip him of power, crush his expectations, and reduce him to a level with the insignificant passenger that precedes him.

But they, and we, and all the world, are traveling ever to that dark inn, the grave, where there is no more feasting and revelry; where the voice of merriment and

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