journey on, and encounter a messenger from Sir Alexander Burnes at Cabul, having come from Bokhara, bearing a letter from the Vakeel, a native ambassador, whom he, Sir Alexander, had sent some time back to endeavour to effect the release of our unfortunate countryman, Colonel Stoddart. His account, which he had from the Vakeel, he stated, was as follows:-

"That Colonel Stoddart accompanied the Persian army to Herat, and finding they could not make the desired impression on the walls, raised the siege, and the Colonel left the army and proceeded across to Bokhara, whether to endeavour to effect the release of the Russian slaves, (there being many in the dominions of the Bokhara king,) or merely for amusement, he could not say; but that the latter was the generally received opinion. On approaching the city of the tyrant-king he met a man riding furiously away with a woman, and, as she passed, called out to the Colonel, 'Amaun, amaun!' (mercy, mercy,); whereupon he immediately galloped up to the ravisher, and securing the deliverance of the woman, told her to keep under his protection until he entered the city. On the first day after his arrival, the king passed as the Colonel was riding on horseback, and although the latter gave the salute usual in his own country, it did not satisfy the ruler; moreover, he, the Feringhi, was on horseback without permission, and therefore the Khan ordered him the following day into his presence. Messengers the next morning were sent, who abruptly entered the Colonel's house, and, finding he would not willingly submit, dragged him before their chief. He was asked why he had infringed the customs of the country by riding on horseback in the city? and why he did not pay the recognised submission to the ruler of a free country? The reply was, that the same compliment had been paid to the king of Bokhara as was customary in Europe to a crowned head. 'And why have you presumed to ride on horseback within the city walls, where no Feringhi is allowed?' 'Because I was ignorant of the custom.' 'It's a lie; my messengers ordered you to dismount, and you would not.' 'Tis true they did order me, and I did not; but I thought they were doing more than their duty.' After this the king ordered him into confinement, where he now is." (p. 131.)

6

This man begged money of the officers to send him on, which they furnished, and were thanked for so doing on their return to Cabul by Sir A. Burnes, who stated that the note from the Vakeel conveyed both the failure of his own efforts, and his imprisonment as the result of his exertions. The delivery of Dost Muhammed and his son from the Ameer of Bokhara is eminently characteristic:

"It appears that the chief at Shere Subz had for some time been at enmity with his Bokhara neighbour; and, wishing to do Dost Mohammed a good turn, he picked out fifty of the most expert thieves in his dominions a difficult selection where the claims of all to this bad pre-eminence were so strong; but the Shere Subz chief was from experience a tolerable judge of the qualifications of an expert rogue, and having pitched upon his men, he promised them valuable presents, provided they effected, by whatever means they might chose to adopt, the release of the Dost; hinting at the same time that if they failed, he should be under the necessity of seizing and selling their families. The thieves were successful, and at the expiration of a month the Dost was free.

"If we could have interested the chief of Shere Subz in our favour by presents and fair words, might not the same means have been employed for the rescue of poor Stoddart? The only way to deal with a ruffian like him of Bokhara, would have been by pitting against him some of his own stamp." (p. 133.)

There can be no doubt that if such measures had been resorted to, they would have proved successful; but, except in the direst of circumstances, Colonel Stoddart would not have been induced from his high English pride to use them. Our travellers reach Koollum, when they perceive alarming indications of a wish to detain them as prisoners, and they await the arrival of the chief, the Meer Walli, with no small anxiety.

"The Meer made his appearance the following morning, and, after the usual compliments, to our great astonishment, himself touched on the subject. 'I have heard,' said he, 'that you have sent out spies to see if the Bourj in the defile is occupied, and if any of my people are about to restrain your movements.' This was rather an ominous commencement: 'But,' continued the old gentleman, if such had been my intentions, could I not have put the whole of you into confinement the moment you arrived? At all events, what could you and your party do against my force?' Sturt glanced his eye at the speaker; for an instant, too, it rested on me, as if to read my opinion; then he boldly answered, 'You may outnumber us by thousands, but you will never capture us alive.' He said this so calmly, with such politeness of manner, and yet so firmly, that the Meer was evidently taken aback. At length he replied, 'But no such piece of villainy has ever entered my head.' He then adroitly changed the subject, and shortly after took his leave." (p. 143.)

The Meer appeared to entertain a magnificent idea of the fortress of Koollum, which was somewhat abated by the cool reply of Lieutenant Sturt to the question, "In how long a time do you think your army could take my fortress?" "In about a quarter of an

hour."

From Koollum our travellers pass to Ghoree; we make one more extract descriptive of a bridal race, which is eminently characteristic of these Calmuck tribes:

"The conditions of the bridal race were these:-The maiden has a certain start given, which she avails herself of to gain a sufficient distance from the crowd to enable her to manage her steed with freedom, so as to assist in his pursuit the suitor whom she prefers. On a signal from the father all the horsemen gallop after the fair one, and whichever first succeeds in encircling her waist with his arm, no matter whether disagreeable or not to her choice, is entitled to claim her as his wife. After the usual delays incident upon such interesting occasions, the maiden quits the circle of her relations, and putting her steed into a hand-gallop, darts into the open plain. When satisfied with her position, she turns round to the impatient youths, and stretches out her arms towards them, as if to woo their approach. This is the moment for giving the signal to commence the chase, and each of the impatient youths, dashing his pointed heels into his courser's sides, darts like the unhooded hawk in pursuit of the fugitive dove. The savannah was extensive, full twelve miles long and three in width; and as the horsemen sped across the plain, the favoured

lover became soon apparent by the efforts of the maiden to avoid all others who might approach her.

"At length, after nearly two hours' racing, the number of pursuers is reduced to four, who are all together, and gradually gaining on the pursued: with them is the favourite, but, alas! his horse suddenly fails in his speed, and as she anxiously turns her head, she perceives with dismay the hapless position of her lover: each of the more fortunate leaders, eager with anticipated triumph, bending his head on his horse's mane, shouts at the top of his voice, I come, my Peri; I'm your lover.' But she, making a sudden turn, and lashing her horse almost to fury, darts across their path, and makes for that part of the chummun (plain) where her lover was yainly endeavouring to goad on his weary steed. The three others instantly check their career, but in the hurry to turn back two of the horses are dashed furiously against each other, so that both steeds and riders roll over the plain. The maiden laughed, for she well knew she could elude the single horseman, and flew to the point where her lover was. But her only pursuer was rarely mounted, and not so easily shaken off; making a last and desperate effort he dashed alongside the maiden, and stretching out his arm, almost won the unwilling prize; but she, bending her head to her horse's neck, eluded his grasp and wheeled off again. Ere the discomfited horseman could again approach her, her lover's arm was around her waist, and amidst the shouts of the spectators they turned towards the fort." (p. 169.)

We pass the terrible horrors of the Castle of Zohawk, which would really make an admirable romance, and place our author again safe among his brother-officers at Cabul. They proceeded immediately against the refractory chiefs, whom Dost Muhammed Khan stirred up to war against England, and at Purwan Durrah found the enemy posted in force; and here a brother of poor Conolly fell by a stray shot.

"The main column closing up continued to advance; the enemy did not make a very determined resistance, yet a chance shot killed poor Edward Conolly, brother to the victim of the ruffian king of Bokhara. His-poor fellow!—was a soldier's death; though we deplore his loss, we know that he died in honourable warfare; but we have no such consolation for the fate of his poor brother, and it is with difficulty that his indignant countrymen can refrain from imprecating the vengeance of God upon the cowardly destroyer of so much talent and virtue." (p. 220.)

The terrible character of the lex talionis that exists in these regions, may be derived from the following anecdote:

"Our bugles had just sounded the first call to dinner, when a few officers, who were strolling in front of the camp, observed a woman with a black veil walking hurriedly from some dark-looking object, and proceed in the direction of that part of the camp occupied by the Affghan force under Prince Timour Shah, the Shah Zada, heir-apparent to the throne of Cabul. On approaching the object, it was discovered to be a man lying on the ground, with his hands tied behind him, his throat half severed, with three stabs in his breast, and two gashes across the stomach. The mangled wretch was still breathing, and a medical man being at hand, measures were instantly taken most calculated to save his life; but without success, and in a quarter of an hour he was a corpse. Familiar as we were with scenes, which in our own happy land would have excited the horror and

disgust of every man possessed of the common feelings of humanity, there was something in this strange murder which caused us to make inquiries, and the reader will hardly believe me when I tell him that the victim met his fate with the knowledge and consent of Timour Shah. The woman whom we first observed was the legal murderess. She had that morning been to the Shah Zada, and sworn on the Koran that the deceased, many years back, had murdered her husband and ran away with his other wife; she had demanded redress according to the Mahommedan law-blood for blood. The Shah Zada offered the woman a considerable sum of money if she would waive her claim to right of personally inflicting the punishment on the delinquent, and allow the man to be delivered over to his officers of justice, promising a punishment commensurate with the crime he had committed. But the woman persisted in her demand for the law of the Koran. Her victim was bound and delivered into her hands; she had him conducted in front of the prince's camp about three hundred yards off, and effected her inhuman revenge with an Affghan knife,—a fit instrument for such a purpose.” (p. 224.)

We close this article with a daring achievement, almost without a parallel in the history of English gallantry. Dost Mohammed appeared with a small body of cavalry before the British lines, and the intrepid Fraser proceeded to attack him. A panic seized the troopers, and they, without charging, wheeled about and fled. We give the result in our author's words :

"But not for one single instant did Fraser hesitate; with a bitter and well-merited expression of contempt at this unmanly desertion, he briefly said, 'We must charge alone,' and dashing spurs into his horse, he rushed to an almost certain fate, followed by Ponsonby, Crispin, Broadfoot, Dr. Lord, and by about a dozen of his men, who all preferred an honourable death to an ignominous life.

"The feelings of disgust mingled with intense admiration with which this unparalleled scene was viewed by the infantry, can be better imagined than expressed; and those who, under similar trying circumstances, would have endeavoured to imitate the heroism of their countrymen, could scarce subdue a thrill of horror as this handful of brave soldiers galloped forward. The intrepid Fraser, mounted upon a large and powerful English horse, literally hewed a lane for himself through the astonished Affghans; and Ponsonby too-for I am weary of seeking fresh epithets for their unsurpassable conduct-on a strong Persian mare, for a time bore down all opposition. Dost Mohammed himself, though in some personal danger from the impetuosity of this desperate charge, could not restrain his admiration. The event fully proved the danger incurred. Dr. Lord, Crispin, and Broadfoot upheld the glory of their country to the last, and fell covered with many wounds. Fraser and Ponsonby were both desperately hacked, and owed their lives to their horses becoming unmanageable, bearing their riders from the midst of the enemy. The reins of Ponsonby's bridle were cut, and he himself grievously wounded in the face, while Fraser's arm was nearly severed in two; neither did their horses escape in the conflict, as both bore deep gashes of the Affghan blades." (p. 234.)

English soldiers will long remember such a deed as this, and the hero of Purwan Durrah live for many generations in the memory of his country.

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ART. XXIV.-The Works of Walter Savage Landor. 2 vols. Moxon: 1846.

THE "Imaginary Conversations" of this writer contain probably, in many instances, the largest real particulars known of the persons to whom they refer. There is, however, a rough-spoken tone in these conversations, a point, blank mode of saying things, which, however characteristic of the time, is scarcely endurable to modern bienseance, and renders this work largely unreadable by ladies. We allude to such declarations as those of Richard the First to the Abbot of Boxley, the dialogue between King James and Casaubon, and elsewhere, which shock the reader, without eminently increasing the picture of the time. Some of the vaticinations conveyed in these pages are, however, rather unlucky. The following, in the conversation between Southey and Porson, has, unhappily, never received, from what has yet been unfolded, the slightest countenance; for while by the labours of Mai, and by search in Mount Athos, numerous valuable fragments have been recovered, a similar good fortune as to known writers has not attended our researches at Herculaneum :

"Porson. The most contemptible of the Medicean family did more for the advancement of letters than the whole body of existing potentates. If their delicacy is shocked or alarmed at the idea of a proposal to send scientific and learned men to Naples, let them send a brace of pointers as internuncios, and the property is their own. Twenty scholars in seven years might retrieve the worst losses we experience from the bigotry of Popes and Califs. I do not intend to assert that every Herculanean manuscript might within that period be unfolded; but the three first legible sentences might be; which is quite sufficient to inform the intelligent reader whether a farther attempt on the scroll would repay his trouble. There are fewer than thirty Greek authors worth inquiring for; they exist beyond doubt, and beyond doubt they may, by attention, patience, and skill, be brought to light." (vol. i. p. 20.)

The charm of this writer's natural and easy style breaks upon one at every step through his writings; and if he lack the vivacity of Lucian, he supplies it with something far sweeter to our mind. How beautiful are the words of Kosciusko, in the dialogue between him and Poniatowski in Switzerland:

"Kosciusko. My friend! I have lost nothing: I have received no injury: 1 am in the midst of our country day and night. Absence is not of matter: the body does not make it: absence quickens our love and elevates our affections: absence is the invisible and incorporeal mother of ideal beauty. Were I in Poland, how many things are there which would disturb and perhaps exasperate me! Here I can think of her as of some departed soul, not yet indeed clothed in light nor exempted from sorrowfulness, but divested of passion, removed from tumult, and inviting to contemplation. She is the dearer to me, because she reminds me that I have performed my duty to her. Permit me to go on. I said that a good or generous action never met with much ingratitude. I do not deny that ingratitude may be very general: but even if we experience it