inland lake; but, in all simplicity and manliness, goes on from mountain range to mountain range, and from sunset to sunset, gathering the rich burden of beauty, which time, and storm, and ancient convulsions, and modern seasons have spread over the wide realms of Siberia and Chinese Tartary. It is a pilgrimage worthy of ancient days, and no unfair type of the present. Comparing it with those made by the old Venetian or Jesuit priests, in the same climes, we find it excelling them, at least in the important particular that it is far more extensive.

"Mine has been a tolerably wide field," says Mr. Atkinson, in his preface, "extending from Kokhan, on the west, to the eastern end of the Baikal, and as far south as the Chinese town of Tchin-si; including that immense chain, Syan-shan, never before seen by any European; as well as a large portion of the western part of the Gobi, over which Genghiz Khan marched his wild hordes toward the westscenes on which no pencil has previously been employed-comprising a distance traversed of about 32,000 versts in carriages, 7,100 in boats, and 20,300 on horseback-in all, 59,400 versts (about 39,500 miles), in the course of seven years.”

Seven years are so large a portion of any man's life, that a consecutive narrative of travels, extending over so long a period, must partake, to a certain degree, of the nature of a biography; and we must confess to having experienced some disappointment, when we found that our author had described the various excursions into which his explorations were necessarily divided, without reference to dates. The consequence is, that we are deprived of any means of marking the mental history of a man, employed during seven years in the prosecution of his art, whilst utterly cut off from all the associations in which that art has its birth, or at least its existence. And if, as is very probable, the traveller were quite indifferent as to affording us this pleasure, he should, at least, have given such a consecutive form to his narrative as would have obviated its present apparent, if not real, confusion of dates and seasons.

Mr. Atkinson's narrative naturally divides itself, to the reader's apprehension, into two portions, which are

mingled together, but are not the less distinct; the one portion treating of the countries travelled over, as they are a portion, an agent, or a resource of the Russian Government; and the other portion referring to the aspects under which they presented themselves to the thoughtful mind of the artist. In each character they have an air of peculiar grandeur; for, as in the one case they are the forge, as it were, in which a great despotism manufactures the implements of its will; so, in the other, they are the great theatre of the old world which has been cleared for the enactment of new historic dramas. The bodies of the last gladiators who trod those boards have been duly dragged out of sight. The volcanoes which lighted their onward march across desert and steppe have long been cold.

In the Oural mountains Mr. Atkinson found the Russian Government in its working dress, but still as polite, and dignified, and stern as ever; and, as he had no occasion to fear its sternness, and was not the sort of man to be overcome by its dignity, he found its politeness no unwelcome ingredient of a visit to some of the most rugged scenery in the world.

There appears to be no limit to the kingdoms of art and poetry. They seize hold of the most unpromising materials and make them their own. We all know that the style of certain famous chess-players is called the poetical style, and that a lively imagination is now generally regarded as an important element of the qualities which, when combined, form a genius for this game. But if chess can be poetical, we certainly never supposed, until we perused Mr. Atkinson's pages, that mineralogy was so susceptible, as he has made it appear, of the glamour of art. Leaving our readers, however, to peruse in the work itself his animated descriptions of gold and silver, platinum, copper, and malachite, as they appear in the recesses of their own regal homes, we will here quote some remarks in which he appears to us to have hinted at almost all that can be said for or against a despotism in respect to practical efficiency:

"The Government employs a great number of its serfs in this zavod (Ekaterineburg) in the machine shop and other works. None of them can be

said to be poor, if by this word is meant want of bread-black bread they have, and salt; these, with a draught of quass (a drink made from rye), is the food of

hundreds who work hard for twelve hours in the day, and receive for their labour fourpence. The Russian peasants have, most undoubtedly, great imitative genius, and nothing daunts them. Men are brought from a village, never having seen any mechanical operation before, and are taken into the zavod. One is told he must be a blacksmith: he goes to his anvil, without the least hesitation, and begins his work. Ano

ther is ordered to be a fitter in a machine shop: he seats himself at his bench, looks at the work he is doing, takes up his file, and commences his new, and to him wonderful, occupation. "There is one great drawback to the efficiency of the machine works at Ekaterineburg-at present there is no practical head to direct. It is not, as the authorities suppose, sufficient that a man has been educated in the School of Mines at St. Petersburg; and that, after serving a few years in the Altai or the Oural mines, he is sent to England and visits the different mechanical engineering manufactories-walking through them occasionally, and taking notes during a period of twelve or eighteen months. This is not the training necessary to fit a man to direct, efficiently and practically, a great establishment. He must acquire the requisite knowledge by the toil of his own hands. Great mechanics are not made in any other way; nor is it in the power of epaulettes, of whatever size or material, to accomplish this object. In all our great machine works there are good practical mechanics, able to direct, who have worked with their own hands. The great men of England have all done so there are Fairbairn, Roberts, Nasmyth, Whitworth, and a host of others as distinguished examples. I have been induced to make these remarks as I have not been an idle spectator on my rambles through the zavods. On the other hand, I have seen, and deeply regret being compelled to admit, that in some of the iron works near the Oural, certain departments have been conducted by my own countrymen who were evidently quite incompetent, as the Russian Government

have learned to their cost."

The Oural may be styled the South Staffordshire of Russia; but nature is on far too grand a scale there to be affected by man's puny labours; and works a hundred times more extensive than those which throw a grand kind of desolate gloom over our own manufacturing districts, would but

"Having spent two days in this zavod (the Syssertskoï), sketching a view of the works, on I travelled over a wooded, undulating country. In some parts extensive tracts of rye were growing most luxuriantly; in others, fine pastures for cattle extended far among the trees.

From this point the road passes into a fine woodland country-sometimes through rich pasture land, with large clumps of birch and poplars. Occasionally the path was close on the shore of the lake, which was exceedingly shallow and rocky; again the road turned into the woods, winding along some park-like scenery, until at length Hoslinskoï was seen standing close upon the margin of the lake, with its zavod sending up a dense black smoke; its churches and other large buildings, with their green domes and golden crosses sparkling in the sun, gave it a grand and imposing appearance."

We fancy that we can perceive a decided addition of freedom to our author's style as he begins to get beyond the range of despotic energy and governmental patronage. His thousand miles' journey from the Oural to the Altai has all the glow and irresistible rapidity of a special express; the narrative of it quickening the reader's blood almost as much as the reality must have quickened the traveller's. Let us observe him for a few moments on his way across the boundless Asiatic steppes:-

"I left in a light carriage, drawn by five horses-three yoked to the vehicle, were driven by a Kirghis, and one of the two leaders was driven by a boy of eighteen. My route was across the steppe-a fine, flat country-and it was

soon quite evident that our Kirghis coachman intended showing how his cattle would go. Our speed for the first two or three versts was a sharp trot, after this the horses were put into a gallop, and then driven at full speed. The whip was not once used, the whole being effected by the driver talking to his horses, they apparently understanding every word. At times he used a shrill call, when the animals would bend to their work like greyhounds; and, by speaking to them in another tone, he would bring them up into a canter.

We were on a fine, level country, crossing a steppe extending far into Asia, without either fence or tree. The horses were put into a trot for a short distance. I now noticed our Jehu regulate the reins of his three horses, seat himself firmly on the box, and give a whoop, when we went off at a fearful speed. It was a splendid sight-our Kirghis was in ecstacies, talking to his horses as if they were human beings.

In a short time fresh horses were yoked, and away we went again at full speed. Though the night was still dark, either the horses or the men knew the road well, as the former bounded on without accident. At first it was not a very agreeable sensation, being carried along at such a speed through the gloom, ignorant of what obstacles might be in the way; the ringing of the bells, however, would warn other passengers of our approach, and make them draw quickly on one side. In some teams we had a bell fastened to each horse; with others, three bells were fastened to the bow which passes over the shaft horse. These keep up a most tremendous clangour, and sometimes have a most melancholy sound when heard in the dark forests of Siberia. We travelled this stage (twenty-five versts) in one hour and a-half. In a quarter of an hour we had fresh horses and galloped away. About three o'clock, the day began to dawn. About half-past three, the sun rose in all his splendour-he appeared as if rising from the sea, for all to the east was an unbounded plain, and that plain-SIBERIA,"

As he approaches the great mountain range, towards which he is travelling, our artist begins to feel it drawing all his soul onwards with a species of magnetic influence. Having set out only to seek objects for his art, he now hurries onwards with all the passion and longing of a lover.

"About three o'clock on the second day I first distinctly saw the Altai mountains, very little elevated above the plain, and watched the misty forms as

we rolled on with intense interest. After galloping for about an hour, much more of the chain was visible, when looking across a small lake, on the banks of which several birches were growing, near the dead trunks of two old willows, now shattered by the storms which often blow with great fury across the steppes.

"Having sketched the above scene I pushed on again, and each ten versts brought other parts of the chain into view. I now noticed a storm gathering over the mountains, which were shortly completely obscured. We were near the post house at which I proposed drinking tea, and, if the weather became bad, remaining for the night, being anxious to see the Altai as we gradually approached the chain. This was explained to the Cossack, who objected to my stopping, the station being small and dirty. He proposed to take me to a village some twenty versts nearer. This plan being agreed to, after riding a few versts further we looked down into a valley in which I discerned a moderately large river running, which they said was the Tcherish. The storm was following the course of this river, and was now not far from us. The thunder, which had hitherto been growling in the distance, bellowed forth in magnificent peals every two or three minutes, bringing the dark mass of vapour nearer."

,,

"We had reached the edge of the valley, and beheld the village five or six versts distant, just being obscured in the falling rain. Not a drop had yet reached us, but we saw that our turn was coming. After descending into the valley we were going over some very rough ground when a terrific stream of lightning, and a tremendous crash of thunder, burst over us; at the same moment the clouds divided, and rolled off in opposite directions. It was like opening the curtains to some mighty and fearful scene as the heavy dark masses were carried up and off, at either side, leaving a thin vapour between them, hanging like a veil. The sun was setting, casting a pale red tinge on the vapoury curtain, which produced a wonderful effect. I stopped the carriage to watch the changes, and observed the opening gradually extend into a larger space. which became a deeper and deeper red as the vapoury curtain exThe hills were panded more and more. nified and resembling mountains glownow dimly seen through it, much maging with fire; not bright, but more like red-hot metals losing their white heat, and changing into a dark red."

The inhabitants of the wide realms, over which Mr. Atkinson's explorations extended, do not seem so much to inhabit as to infest them. They are

not all alike, of course-the Chinese Tartars, for instance, having much the advantage in every respect, except as to the moral virtues, in which they appear to be sadly deficient. But idleness and shiftlessness are characteristics of all of them. They appear to have exhausted their energies eight centuries since in achieving the conquest of half the then known world. Our author, however, has made them more than interesting to us, by representing them, not so much as they differ from, as they resemble us. He has not been over solicitous to show the small harsh details of life into which the uncivilized man is driven, rather by his necessities than his inclinations. He is too old a traveller to be thrown into a paroxysm of astonishment, because the inhabitants of the Kirghis steppe drink koumis instead of champagne, or cover themselves at night with a voilock, instead of a blanket. When he describes the domestic scenes, if we may so term them, of his seven years' explorations, he does so in much the same spirit, only much more truthfully, in which men generally sit down to write the story of their own lives. And herein lies the secret of the interest which he forces his readers to take in a people who are deficient in many of the more elevated attributes of manhood. He tells us of Kirghis, as though they were our neighbours; of Kalmucks, as though we as well as himself had passed long months and even years under their roofs. He has introduced a new element into the art of relating the story of distant journeys. We shall, henceforth, demand of the traveller pictures of individual character, as well as national characteristics.

Without attempting to show the relations he established, and the footing of dignified equality on which he lived with the people and sultans of the Asiatic plains, we may here quote a picture, so to speak, which the author has also depicted in other colours than those of language.

"An hour before sunset we saw not only pastures, but horses and cattle feeding. This was a joyful sight to man and beast, and we presently reached the herds. We soon came upon some Kirghis, who told us that these were flocks belonging to Sultan Sabeck, who was at his aoul, seven or eight hours distant.

They looked at us with some alarm, until the Kirghis explained their mission to the sultan, when they led the way, and brought us to a fern yourts in a herdsmen, and two of their dwellings small valley. while two men were sent to carry the were given up to us, and a sheep killed; news to the sultan, and say that we should follow in the morning. Early in the morning fresh horses were ready to take us to the sultan's aoul, to which four Kirghis accompanied us the route being south-west, leaving the conical mountain to the east. Most part of the way horses seemed desirous of enjoying. Bewas over good pastures, which our tired fore we reached our destination we had a beautiful view of Szan-Shan, taking in the lower chain. Shortly after midday a party of six Kirghis met us; they had come to conduct us to the encampment, still several versts distant. They were dressed in rich silk kalats, of very bright colours; some had embroidered silk caps on their heads, and others had caps of fox-skin.

Here we found other

"We soon obtained a view of the aoul, standing on the edge of a lake, with high reeds and long grass growing on its banks. As we drew near the yourts, I was guided towards one of considerable size, standing alone on the edge of the lake, where a group of Kirghis were waiting in their richly-coloured kalats. When we reached them, a tall man stepped forward, took hold of the reins, and gave me his hand to dismount. To refuse such assistance would be a mark of disrespect, and I had by this time reconciled myself to

the custom. This was Sultan Sabeck, who saluted me in the usual manner, and then led me into his dwelling, the floor of which was covered with voilock and with true Bokkarian carpets. On these he placed me, and sat down in the voilock in front, giving me all the honours; but these I, as usual, insisted should be divided. The place was shortly filled by Kirghis taking the seats in circles, according to their grade, before us.

"A small, low table having been placed between the sultan and myself by a young Kirghi, two others deposited on it Chinese dishes, filled with dried fruits. To these were added plates of small cakes and sweetmeats, the productions of Chinese confectioners, which gave an aspect of variety and elegance to the repast. Then tea was served to the sultan and myself in beautiful Chinese cups. The fruit, cakes, and sweetmeats were delicious. When we had finished, the company were regaled with the beverage. Sultan Sabeck was a tall man, with a ruddy, intelligent counte

nance, black eyes, and a dark beard. His kalat was of kanfa (Chinese satin), of a deep purple colour, with flowers embroidered in various coloured silks, which produced a beautiful robe. A rich yellow crape scarf was tied round his waist. His cap was sable, turned up with crimson silk; and he wore light green boots, and yellow over-shoes.

In the evening it was a busy scene round the aoul; the plains were covered with camels, horses, oxen, sheep, and goats, and great numbers of the latter were being milked. My host estimated the number of his horses at eight thousand, and his camels at six hundred."

It would be fruitless to attempt to give, within the limits at our command, even an idea of the contents of this delightful volume, for even itself is but an index to seven years of adventure, peril, and, we might almost say, romance, such as have never, we believe, been equalled. Now watching the cutting of a jasper vase in a government workshop-now shooting wolves in a Mongolian forest-now tracing the history of the art of Damascening steel, or the almost supernatural manoeuvres of the Russian police and now making extempore ices of crushed berry-juice and snow on the

ledges of the largest mountains in the world, the author is always at home. Whether he be engaged in personal conflict with desperate Tartar bandits; or be hunting the red deer with an eagle for a falcon; or be plucking the scarlet salsola on the borders of the glittering Salt Lake; or be pondering on the fortunes of Zinghis Khan and his sons and grandsons at the foot of the Tangnou mountains, he is always an artist. We feel that he is breathing in his inmost soul, "And this, too, belongs to my art."

We are almost inclined to express dissatisfaction that so valuable and genuine a book of travels as this should have appeared in any form but the old, sedate, sheepskin-covered quarto; but as we gaze upon the wondrous landscapes which Mr. Atkinson has been at seven years' pains to bring for us from scarcely known and almost unvisited lands, and which the lithographer and engraver have here reproduced for us with exquisite finish of tint and tone, we become convinced that they could not have been fitly placed in any less beautiful volume than that which we now heartily commend to our readers' perusal.

MR. ATHERSTONE has here given us, not a romance, but a poem in prose. He has been happy in choosing for a subject that which, considering all the attendant circumstances, is, perhaps, the most striking event in ancient history, the Fall of Babylon. There is not, indeed, even in the book of Daniel, a more sublime narrative than that in which we are told how the riotous feasting of Belshazzar and his thousand lords, and their impious mockery of the God of Israel, were changed suddenly into trembling and paleness, when there came forth the fingers of a man's hand, and wrote upon the wall in characters unknown-how Daniel, long forgotten, and now, by the queen's request, con

sulted, boldly reproved the king, and read in the writing the doom of his kingdom; and which concludes with the simple words, "In that night was Belshazzar, the king of the Chaldeans, slain. And Darius, the Median, took the kingdom, being about threescore and two years old." On this narrative, combined with what profane history tells us, Mr. Atherstone has founded his work.

Although narrative in form, it has very much of the dramatic spirit; and, indeed, with a little transposition, might be transformed into a trilogy, after the manner of the ancients. The time occupied by the action is only three days, and the scene is constantly either in Babylon itself,

VOL. LI. NO. CCCI.

6