Nishney-Kolymsk, spring was invariably a season of famine. "Three of these seasons of terror," he says, "did I live through, and even now it is with shuddering that I reflect on the scenes of suffering that I was forced to witness, and which it is utterly out of my power to describe."

In the hour of extremest need, relief appears. The water-fowl of Northern Siberia always quit the country when winter sets in, and fly in countless swarms towards the north. These migrations were for a long time looked on as a proof that a continent of considerable extent must exist about the North Pole; but it would be difficult to assign a reason why birds of passage, after spending the summer in Siberia, should migrate still farther north, and consequently to a still colder country, on the appearance of winter. This migration is now more reasonably accounted for. The birds subsist wholly on fish, and when the rivers and lakes freeze, and the ocean itself for nearly a hundred miles from the coast becomes covered with a solid crust of ice, the swans, geese, and ducks of Siberia, are obliged to fly to the nearest open water. They spend their winter, there is every reason to believe, on the icebergs that float about in the Arctic Ocean, and return to land as soon as the ice breaks up. The arrival of these birds puts an end to the general famine. Old and young, men and women, all that can handle a bow or gun, hasten out to give their guests a warm reception. At the same time, the fish begin to make their appearance in small numbers; but though famine is at an end, plenty has not yet returned. It is not till June that the river gets clear of ice, and then only it is that the fish come crowding into the stream. All hands are now at work to turn the season of grace to the best account. The poor fisherman of the Kolyma is not, however, allowed to enjoy his prosperity undisturbed. The current of the river is a lazy one, and over-slow in carrying away the huge masses of ice that come floating down. These accumulate in narrow or shallow places, and an annual inundation of all the lower part of the country is the invariable consequence.

When the inundation subsides, the net-fishery commences, and there must be no idle hands now, for to feed the hundred families in and about NishneyKolymsk-men, women, children, and dogs-three millions of herrings must be taken. It is true that only one million of these prolific finny plebeians are caught in the Kolyma in the course of the year, but that does not prevent the three millions from being consumed. The fact is, that the herring forms in this part of Siberia the conventional standard for measuring the food of man and dog; thus, a salmon-trout will be counted, not as a singular, but as a noun of number, and will be set down as worth so many herrings, according to its size, and thus with every other description of fish. In spring, it is observed, the fish go down the river, and are always lean and fit only for dogs' meat, or for very hungry people. The migration of these lean gentry on their way to the sea seldom lasts more than a few days, and as soon as the train has gone by, the fishermen repair to the lakes and rivulets, into which, generally, a number of fish have unintentionally found their way during the inundation. These are carefully prevented from finding their way back again, wears of willow-work being formed at the mouth of the rivulets, by way of pressing the stragglers to stay.

Baron von Wrangel enters into a very elaborate account of the different ways in which the herrings are prepared into yukola and yukhala—the former a Siberian gives to his dog, but keeps the latter for his own eating-and enters into minute details relative to the art of preparing fish-meal-corn-flour is a luxury rarely indulged in-telling us how, with the aid of a little train-oil, the

pounded herrings may be baked into fish-meal bannocks, and into various other savoury dishes. When the next new edition of Mrs. Rundall or Dr. Kitchiner goes through the press, an appendix on Siberian cookery may be easily collected from the pages of our scientific author.

The great net-fishery recommences later in the season, when the large fish return up the river, from their excursion out to sea, which they appear to have made chiefly from a laudable desire to fatten themselves up for the good people of Nishney-Kolymsk, very disinterestedly laying in a sufficient supply of oil, as sauce for the feast, at which they do not eat but are eaten.

While these different descriptions of fishery are going on, parties are sent away to look after the water-fowl. As soon as these have arrived, some hunters are despatched to observe their proceedings, to watch the nests, and to take out some of the first eggs, which the birds replace by new ones. The regular hunt, however, does not begin till the birds moult their feathers, when they are unable to fly, and are easily run down and killed with sticks. On these occasions, the Siberian goose shows none of that silliness for which geese have become proverbial in more civilized countries. On the contrary, the Siberian goose is as sly as a fox, and practises various devices to escape from its pursuer. When hardly pressed, it throws itself down, and stretches out its neck, and the hunter, supposing it to have been already killed, passes on in pursuit of those who are still on their legs. Of these birds, several thousands are killed along the Kolyma during the season; some are preserved by smoking, but in general they are simply frozen in for the winter.

The fishery on the small rivers, when once the wears are set, is so easy, that the women and children are able to attend to it. The men, if not engaged in bird-hunting, will then go up the Aniuy, and join some of the parties lying in wait for the rein-deer, or they will go out on horseback to hunt the same animal on the tundra. The chace on the tundra is not in general so productive as on the Aniuy, but it is less precarious, and the deer killed on the tundra are usually in better condition than when they set off on their return to the forests. In September, the herrings go up the river in immense shoals, and on their appearance, every other pursuit is abandoned. Some idea of the abundance of these fish may be conceived from the fact that, in good years, as many as 40,000 have been caught with one net in the course of three or four days. It sometimes happens that all the other fisheries have failed, and the poor KoJymskites are looking forward to a nine months' fast, and a total deprivation of train-oil, when the charitable herrings come pouring in, and fill the storehouses in a few days.

With the herring-fishery in September, the summer avocations of the inhabitants of Nishney-Kolymsk may be said to close, but the poor fishermen continue to practise their seductions on their finny victims so long as the frost is not too severe to allow of their cutting holes in the ice. This autumnal fishery, which proves most productive near the mouths of the river, is generally persevered in till December.

There are, of course, other occupations which must not be neglected. The hut has to be repaired for the winter, those who have horses must get in a little hay, fuel must be collected, and the traps in the forest or on the tundra must be looked after. These traps are set for the squirrels, sables, foxes, and other small furred animals, particularly the white or arctic foxes, whose skins are of trifling value, but who atone for their inferiority in this respect by the astonishing numbers in which they are found along the sea-coast. It is calculated that the inhabitants of Nishney-Kolymsk have no less than 7,500 of these

traps, which are set in the autumn. A careful hunter never fails to visit his traps eight or ten times in the winter, and on each visit he expects to find every tenth trap full.

To speak of Northern Siberia without mentioning the dog, would be like describing Ascot Races without saying a word of the horses. The dog to the Siberian, since Russian policy has nearly exterminated the tame reindeer, has become the only beast of draught. From the Ob River to Behring's Strait, all the tribes now yoke dogs before their sledges in winter, and thus perform journeys of many hundreds of miles, besides conveying loads of no trifling bulk and weight. The Siberian dog bears a strong resemblance to the wolf. A long pointed snout, sharp upright ears, a long bushy tail, are the usual characteristics. Their hair is sometimes short and sometimes long, their size various, and in point of colour they differ as much from one another as the curs in the most fashionable metropolis in Europe. A dog is not thought fit for the sledge, however, if he be less than 2 feet high and 2 feet 10 inches long. Their barking resembles the howling of a wolf: they spend their whole time in the open air. In summer, they dig holes in the ground, where the frozen soil affords them a cooler bed, or they pass the whole day in the water, as a protection against the gnats. In winter, they gain a shelter from the bitter cold by burying themselves in the snow, where they lie rolled up, with their snouts under their tails. The breeding and rearing of these animals require much judgment and experience. A dog born in winter may be put to the sledge the following autumn, but he must not be subjected to hard work before his third year. The most lively and docile are selected for leaders, and as the discipline of the whole team and the safety of the traveller often depend on the leader, the greatest care is naturally expended on his education. He must require no other rein or whip than his master's voice; he must plunge boldly into the water if he come to an open place in the ice, without being checked in his course; and above all, he must not allow his attention to be diverted for a moment by the scent of any game. This is the all-important point to be attained in breaking in a leader for a sledge. It is extremely difficult to subdue this instinct in the animal, but if the leader show any irresolution on this point, the whole team is certain to start and follow the scent, and when once off, nothing will ever stop them until some natural impediment bring them to a standstill. It is when the rest of the team are wavering in their allegiance, that a traveller learns to estimate all the value of a well-trained leader. "Often," says von Wrangel, "have I had occasion to admire the tact, I might almost say the cunning, with which a leader has gradually coaxed away the rest of a team from the scent of a fox or bear; or, where he could not succeed in doing this, I have seen him suddenly raise a loud bark, and dash off in the opposite direction, as if he had just come upon a new scent." In summer, also, the dogs make themselves useful to their masters, by towing their boats against the stream, when on hunting or fishing excursions. The dog could never be replaced in Siberia by the horse, because the latter would continually sink into the snow, over which the former passes lightly away. The best dogs for draught are those of the Yana and Indigirka, where more attention is paid to the breed than on the Kolyma. This is owing to the frequent practice of the people, on the banks of the two former rivers, of crossing the ice in winter to the Liakhoff Islands, in search of mammoths' teeth, a journey much too arduous to be undertaken with any but the most trusty animals. A team of dogs consists generally of twelve.

Asiat.Journ.N.S.VOL.32. No.125.

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We have seen the nature of the Siberian's occupations during summer, and before we dismiss the subject, we ought to inquire a little into the domestic avocations of his fireside circle, during the tedious winter that forms so large a portion of his year. We have little idea in England of a cold many degrees below Fahrenheit's zero, and most of our readers will probably have only a vague conception of what is meant by a temperature of -40° Reaumur, or 90 degrees below the freezing point of Fahrenheit. This degree of cold generally prevails in Kolymsk during January, and at Oust Jansk, a little farther west, the thermometer sinks even lower. At this temperature, glass windows would fly immediately into pieces, and even the mica, which is used in some parts of the country for window-glass, is certain to burst. Our travellers were obliged to be extremely cautious in the use of their quadrants, for if any metal touched the skin, it immediately froze to it, and skin and metal came away together, leaving a painful wound behind; even the heat of the skin was sufficient, in a few seconds, to cover the glasses with a hoar frost. While a cold of this intensity continues, the Siberian, of course, quits his house as rarely as possible. His whole family crowd around the tshuval, or fire-hearth, as soon as the long December night has driven the last lingerers home from the autumnal fishery. The train-oil lamp then is seen glimmering faintly through the thick ice-panes; the majestic column of smoke rises in stately pride from the low chimney, charged with a shower of sparks from the resinous pine-wood which forms the principal fuel. The dogs lie crouching round the house, on the snow and under it, and at regular intervals, with a preciseness that supplies the absence of a clock, they raise a fearful wolf-like howl, that is answered by every dog within hearing, the whole producing a chorus that may be heard for many miles around, and cheers the returning traveller as he comes dashing homeward over the snow-covered tundra.

Within the hut, meanwhile, the men are engaged making or mending their nets, bows, arrows, spears, &c.; and the women, when not occupied by the domestic duties of the kitchen, or in mending their own or their husbands' garments, are busily preparing the skins of such furred animals as the chace or the trap may have produced, and in exchange for which they may hope to obtain a few little luxuries and conveniences when the merchants of Yakutzk pass through Kolymsk, on their way to the Tshuktshi fair of Ostrovnoïe.

1

Where there are pretty females, flirtation and love-making will follow them, and cur readers must not be surprised to learn that, even in these Arctic regions, the mischievous little divinity preserves something of the character which he bears all over the world. Love is not, however, a fiery, all-devouring passion in Northern Siberia. The usual place for making love is the hole cut daily in the ice, to allow the young girls to come and draw water for drinking and cooking. Here the young men lie in wait for the fair ones that have be witched them, and manifest the tenderness of their affection by filling the lady's pails, and carrying them home for her. Attentions of this kind are generally looked upon as tantamount to an offer of the youth's hand and fortune.

Such is the dull monotony of a Siberian's life. Fortunately for him, his imagination does not picture higher or more refined enjoyments, and if the chase and fishery turn out productive, and there be a sufficient supply of tea and spirits within his hut, his contentment is, for the most part, complete, and he envies not the natives of a happier clime.

PROFESSOR WILSON'S EDITION OF "MILL'S HISTORY OF BRITISH INDIA."*

BEFORE the late Mr. Mill undertook to write a history of India, it was an almost unapproachable subject,-a department of knowledge which the general student was compelled to leave out of the scope of his inquiries. There were materials, indeed, including translations from Eastern authors, both Hindu and Mohammedan, and vast stores of facts relating to the transactions of Europeans in that country, in Orme's History, and especially in the Reports of Parliamentary Committees; but these materials lay in a confused heap―rudis indigestaque moles. In order to attain a competent knowledge of Indian affairs, Mr. Mill found it necessary to write a history of India for himself,-a task, he says,-and we can readily believe him," from which I should have shrunk, had I foreseen the labour in which it has involved me." Even now, with all the help which his work has contributed towards smoothing the path of a succeeding historian, with the collateral assistance which has been rendered by various other writers, who have published portions of Indian history, and although the demand for a comprehensive history of the Anglo-Indian empire is more urgent than when Mr. Mill wrote, and more likely to reward the labours of a successful author, such an undertaking seems to deter the most resolute. The work of Mr. Mill, therefore, regarded as a triumph over extraordinary difficulties, deserves the highest praise. We may go still further, and, with reference to the means of information at the command of the author, say, that its pretensions as a literary performance are great. It is, at the same time, due to truth that we should add, that it is disfigured by grievous errors, which have tended in a great degree to disseminate the false notions of India and Indian society which prevail in this country and in Europe. These, errors, moreover, are not merely the fruit of defective information; the most mischievous are those which can be directly traced to bias and prejudice in the mind of the author. Mr. Mill, who had never been in India, who came to the study of its history without any previous discipline, and whose mind was imbued with the peculiar notions of the Benthamite philosophy, seems to have preconceived two theories, to the demonstration of which all his inquiries tended, namely, the vileness of the East-India Company's system as a commercial monopoly, and the utter degradation of the Hindu people as a nation. True it is, that, in the course of his investigations, he met with such extraordinary proofs of the beneficent character of the rule of the Company as a governing body, that he has left upon record an opinion upon this point which stands out in extraordinary contrast, with his vituperations elsewhere. In order to make out his charges against the Hindu people, he appears, after the widest range of inquiry, to have adopted as his authorities writers who were obviously the least entitled to that name. The splenetic and ignorant remarks of casual visiters at a

The History of British India, by JAMES MILL, Esq. Fourth Edition, with Notes and Continuation, by HORACE HAYMAN WILSON, M.A., F.R.S., M.R.A.S., &c, Boden Professor of Sanscrit in the University of Oxford. In Eight Vols. Vols. I, and II. Loudon, 1840. Madden. Lewis.