218 



KIDIVS OWN JOURNAL. 



up by the ice, from the month of October to 

 the end of April at least ; and even the Black 

 Sea is not always free from a similar state of 

 things ; while, during the summer, the navi- 

 gation of both seas is so dangerous and diffi- 

 cult that there is a ukase, punishing with 

 degradation and death every officer who has 

 not returned with his vessel before the equi- 

 noxes, or who happens to lose it from stress of 

 weather. In addition to all these considera- 

 tions, good sailors are formed only by long 

 voyages ; and I repeat, the Russians of the 

 Black Sea, as well as those of the Baltic, are 

 employed merely in the coasting -trade. 



The Czar, who is always just and clear- 

 sighted, has so plainly perceived the inap- 

 titude of his people for maritime pursuits, 

 that he has been under the necessity of con- 

 fiding all the important posts to English and 

 Swedish officers, whom he has induced to 

 enter his service. 



Of the Emperor himself, we are not called 

 upon to speak. His character has long been 

 known to all the world. Even my Lord 

 Aberdeen must now feel ashamed to call him 

 " friend." We regard him as a fiend. 



TO THE SOUTH WIND. 



SOUTHERN WIND, 



Long hast thou linger'd midst those islands fair, 



Which lie like jewels in the Indian deep, 



Or green waves, all asleep, 

 Fed by the summer sun and azure air. 



O sweetest Southern Wind ! 



Wilt thou not now unbind 

 Thy dark and crowned hair ? 



Wilt thou not unloose now 



In this — the bluest of all hours — 



Thy passion-colored flowers, 

 And shaking the fine fragrance from thy brow 



Kiss our girls' laughing lips and youthful eyes, 



And all that world of love which round them 

 lies 

 Breathing, and warm, and white — purer than 

 snow. 



sweet Southern Wind, 



Come to me and unbind 

 The languid blossoms which oppress thy brow ! 



We, whom the northern blast 



Blows on from night to morn, from morn to 

 eve, 



Hearing thee, sometimes grieve 

 That our brief summer days not long must last; 



And yet perhaps 'twere well 



We should not ever dwell 



With thee, sweet spirit of the sunny South 



But touch thy odorous mouth 

 Once, — and be gone unto our blasts again, 



And their bleak welcome, and our wintry snow ; 

 And arm us (by enduring) for that pain 



Which the bad world sends forth — and all its 



woe. 



Charles Lamb. 



Himalayan Journals. By J. D. Hooker, 

 M.D. 2 vols. Murray. 



This work professes to be, — " Notes of a 

 Naturalist in Bengal, the Sikkim, amd Nepal 

 Himalayas, &c. It therefore comes imme- 

 diately within our province as an admirer of 

 Nature. 



Dr. Hooker is not only a man of obser- 

 vation, but he records his adventures in a 

 very pleasant manner. He has, moreover, 

 enriched his volumes by a number of illus- 

 trations, from his own pencil, of those objects 

 that struck him as being more particularly 

 worthy of note. 



A work like this is sure to be universally 

 read. We shall, therefore, rest content with 

 a few choice extracts, in accordance with the 

 character of Our Journal. Let us com- 

 mence with the author's description of 



THE SCENERY OF NEPAL. 



On the left I passed a very curious isolated 

 pillar of rock, amongst the wild crags to the north 

 east, whose bases we skirted; it resembles the 

 Capuchin on the shoulder of Mont Blanc, as seen 

 from the Jardin. Evening overtook us while still 

 on the snow, near the last ascent. As the sun 

 declined, the snow at our feet reflected the most 

 exquisitely-delicate peach-bloom hue; and looking 

 west from the top of the pass, the scenery was 

 gorgeous beyond description, for the sun was just 

 plunging into a sea of mist, amongst some cirrhi 

 and stratus, all in a blaze of the ruddiest coppery 

 hue. 



As it sank, the Nepal peaks to the right assumed 

 more definite, darker, and gigantic forms, and 

 floods of light shot across the misty ocean, bathing 

 the landscape around me in the most wonderful 

 and indescribable changing tints. As the lumi- 

 nary was vanishing, the whole horizon glowed like 

 copper run from a smelting furnace, and when it 

 had quite disappeared, the little inequalities of the 

 ragged edges of the mist were lighted up and 

 shone like a row of volcanos in the far distance. 

 I have never before or since seen anvthing, which 

 for sublimity, beautj 7 , and marvellous effects, 

 could compare with what I gazed on that evening 

 from Choonjerma pass. In some of Tm'ner's 

 pictures I have recognised similar effects, caught 

 and fixed by a marvellous effort of genius; 

 such are the fleeting hues over the ice, in his 

 "Whalers," and the ruddy fire in his "Wind, 

 Steam, and Kain," which one almost fears to 

 touch. Dissolving views give some idea of the 

 magic creation and dispersion of the effects ; but 

 any combination of science and art can no more 

 recal the scene than it can the feelings of awe 

 that crept over me, during the hour I spent in 

 solitude amongst these stupendous mountains. 



The moon guided us on our descent, which was 

 to the south, obliquely into the Yalloong valley. 

 I was very uneasy about the coolies, who were 

 far behind, and some of them had been frost-bitten 

 in crossing the Kambachen pass. Still I thought 

 the best thing was to push on, and light large fires 

 at the first juniper we should reach. The change, 



