call it enthusiasm or superstition, exercises everywhere in Asia.

But of all empires in Asia, the Russian empire is the greatest and the most powerful. I have only space to say here that it is of the same type with the others; it is a vast dominion over an infinite variety of races, tribes, and creeds; it is a government which has come in by foreign conquest; a Christian Power which has among its subjects a great number of Mahomedans. It differs from our Indian empire in this respect, that the Russian conquests were made gradually by land, across Central Asia, or by slow immigration and extension, as in Siberia, whereas the English reached India by a long sea-journey. So that in the Asiatic empire of Russia the separation of race between the rulers and their subjects is not so sharply defined as between England and India. Nevertheless the problems that confront Russia in Asia are similar in kind to those which face us in India; she has to reconcile to her permanent dominion a miscellany of alien peoples, whom it is almost impossible to fuse and consolidate into anything like a nationality.

I have now endeavored, very imperfectly, to show how Race and Religion still powerfully affect society, and trouble politics, throughout a great part of the world. How far they influence and interact upon each other is a difficult problem; but one may say that some religions seem to accord with the peculiar temperament and intellectual disposition of certain races; that, for instance, the active propagating spirit of Islam flourishes in Western Asia, while in Eastern Asia a quiet and contemplative faith, with little missionary impulse, no strong desire to make converts, has always prevailed. But in the East everywhere Race and Religion still unite and iso late the populations in groups-they

are the great dividing and disturbing forces that prevent or delay the consolidation of settled nationalities; and so far as our experience goes, a fixed nationality of the Western type is the most solid and permanent form of political government and social aggregation. An empire is a different and looser mode of binding people together, yet at certain stages of civilization and the world's progress it is a necessity; and an empire well administered is the best available instrument for promoting civilization and good order among backward races. So managed it may last long; and its dominion may be practically permanent, for commerce and industry, literature and science, rapid and easy communication by land and sea, spread far more quickly, and connect distant countries far more closely, in modern times than in the ancient world. Yet there is always an element of unrest and insecurity underlying the position of imperial rulership over different and often discordant groups of subjects; and this has been one main cause of the immemorial weakness of Asiatic empires, and of the indifference of the people to a change of masters, because no single dynasty represented the whole people. It is just this weakness of the native rulers that has enabled the European to make his conquests in Asia; and we have carefully to remember that although our governments are superior in skill and strength, we have inherited the old difficulties. For it is my belief that in many parts of the world, particularly in Asia, the strength of the racial and religious sentiments is rather increasing than diminishing. This is indeed the view-the fact, if I am right-that I especially desire to press home, because it is of the highest importance at the present time, when all the European nations, and England among the foremost, are extending their dominion over peoples of

races and creeds different from their own. Our governments are now no longer confined to the continent which we inhabit; we are acquiring immense possessions in Asia and Africa; we can survey the whole earth with its confusion of tongues; its multitude of beliefs and customs, its infinitely miscellaneous populations. We must recognize the variety of the human species; we must acknowledge that we cannot impose a uniform type of civilization, just as we admit that a uniform Faith is beyond mere human efforts to impose, and that to attempt it would be politically disastrous. This is the conclusion upon which I venture to lay stress, because some such warning seems to me neither untimely nor unImportant.

For there is still a dangerous tendency among the enterprising commerThe Fortnightly Review.

cial nations of the West to assume that the importation into Asia of economical improvements, public instruction, regular administration, and religious neutrality will conquer antipathies, overcome irrational prejudices, and reconcile old-world folk to an alien civilization. Undoubtedly a foreign government that rules wisely, justly, and very cautiously, acquires a strong hold on its subjects, and may stand, like the Roman empire, for centuries. But this can only be achieved by recognizing, instead of ignoring, certain ineffaceable characteristics in the origins and history of the people, for whom the tradition and sentiment of race is often their bond of union and the base of their society, as their religion is the embodiment of their spiritual instincts and imaginations. A. C. Lyall.

"Hulla-gulla! Hulla-gulla! Hulla-gulla!" It is the voice of the old muezzin calling the Mohammedan quarter of the basti1 to morning prayer. What he is really saying is "Allah-o-Akbar," but in the quavering articulation of the hoary priest the incitation bears no sound to the unbeliever other than the monotonous repetition given above. It seems strange that on Christmas morning the first sound to break the stillness of the night and strike upon the ear should be anything but a joyous peal of bells. But except to the very, very few-the microscopic leaven of white men and the handful of apostate natives-Christmas Day dawns in India much as any other cold weather morning. True, it is an official holiday, and

1 Village.

the jackals of the law courts starve for a single day. Beyond this, to the great teeming mass living in wealth and poverty throughout the whole peninsula, it means nothing. An initiated few realize that it is a feast-day for the sahibs, and as such calculate how they can best use it to their own advantage. But to the Englishman, wherever he be, toiling in the tropics in the great task of empire-keeping, wandering on the waters, or plying his ubiquitous energy in the frigid zones.-Christmas has its own special meaning for him. Whether he be the satrap of a mighty province, or belted soldier facing death, or missionary pursuing his heaven-sent mission, or lowly sailor in the fo'c'sle of an ocean tramp, at some moment on this day his thoughts will turn to

the mansion, villa, or cottage which to him brings the magic memories of home.

It is the object of this paper to take the reader into one of those far-off Indian districts where the march of civilization has not absolutely destroyed the traditions of the white man; where contact with the West has only arrived through the class of men whom Macaulay in his vicious bigotry classed as "profligate adventurers." Here, within faint view of the giant Himalayas, is still to be found somewhat of that respect, of that fear and even reverence for the white man, which in the main was responsible for their original power in the East. The world is flooded with the literature of official Anglo-India. We have it in the memoirs of each great soldier and governor. We have it in the fiction which holds up to admiration or contempt the social life of all the official seats of Government. We have it in the reminiscences of every "globe-trotter" who records his fleeting vision of the splendor and wonders of the East. But of the non-official white men, as true and good Englishmen as the most decorated official, we have but little record. On the one hand he may be called an adventurer, on the other a merchant prince. And here it rests. Therefore let me take you on this Christmas morning far into the Mofusil and introduce you to a hardy race of deserving white men, who beyond all others have kept alive those magnificent traditions upon which were built the foundations of old John Company. For the most part they are the grandsons and great-grandsons of the sturdy pioneers who, turning their backs upon the machinations of the then official despotism, struck out deep into the country and opened up channels of commercial enterprise which were in time to be estimated in many millions. 'Country districts.

2

The voice of the muezzin dies away in a long thin wail. It has been sufficient, and doubtless all devout Mohammedans are spreading their little prayer-carpets in front of their dwellings. In the unbelieving household of the sahib it has but little effect beyond arousing the village chowkidar, who, noisy custodian of the peace, invariably makes it his duty, when there are no thieves about, to sleep upon the sahib's verandah. Warned by the plaintive call to prayer, he sits up and pulls his disordered blue turban over his ears to protect them from the cold, and commences to caterwaul, that his small world may benefit by the knowledge that he is awake and watching. His shoutings raise the servants of the household, and as the morning light strengthens dim figures, very much muffled as to their heads and bare as to their legs, begin to fit about the kitchen and outhouses. Suddenly they all bend in mute salaam. A portly gentleman in the whitest of white robes for he knows that it is Christmas morning-is passing up the verandah steps. It is the sirdar, the butler of the household, and he walks gravely into the house to squat at his master's door until the great man shall be pleased to call for him. Hot weather or cold, people rise early in India, and it is still hardly honest daylight, when the shout "Qua hai!" starts the first bustle within the household. The sirdar calls to the kitchen, and in a moment three khitmugars in the livery of the house arrive bearing trays of steaming tea. One is handed to the bundle of clothes which in the case represents the lady's-maid of Western idea; another tray is taken to the lord of the house, while the third is for the honored guest. In the dressing-room the sirdar, before kneeling with great dignity to adjust his master's socks, informs him with the deepest saluta

tion that it is Christmas Day. The khitmugar with the tea-tray echoes this news, and doubtless the bundle of clothes in the inner chamber informs her mistress of the fact and solicits some douceur in consideration of past services and promised services to come.

In an Anglo-Indian household buried far within the Mofusil the early morning meal is generally the feature of the day. If not too cold it will be taken on the verandah; and if, as it does on this occasion, the weather will allow it, Christmas morning furnishes a fascinating page of native life. Already before the sahib has appeared the whole strength of the senior servants in the factory has paraded to make their obeisance. Each has put on a clean turban and a brand-new suit of clothes, and as a special mark of respect those that are more warmly clad will have donned muslins above the thicker textures. The sahib steps out on to the verandah and, expert agriculturist as he is, throws his first glance to the sky above to ascertain the nature of the weather. In the meantime the white-robed servants bend double in correct salaam. Then led by the senior, a Rajput Jemedar, each in turn files up to the steps and presents a silver coin for the sahib's acceptance. custom is not to take the rupee. sahib just puts forward his right hand and lightly touches the coin, and the homage is considered given and accepted.

The

The

But behind the factory servants is another class of well-wishers. A hundred and one clients of the factorynative bankers, interested landowners, influential merchants-have each chosen the day to be the occasion of some considerable gift. The one will have sent a basket of fruit or vegetable, another a box of spices, a third dried fruit that tells of Cabul packing; and even the more humble of the tenants,

the ordinary fisher-folk that rent the river rights, have brought the best catch from their evening's labors. All these gifts are laid out upon the verandah to please the housekeeping instinct of the mem-sahib when she shall arrive. Then suddenly the crowd is pushed aside, and a young native, exquisitely dressed after the manner appertaining to the youths who have studied in the Calcutta universities, presses forward with a heavy basket borne on the head of a coolie. He is the son of a man desirous of the sublease of a building contract, and he seizes the occasion as one likely to influence the owner of the contract. He has been farther afield than his more ignorant fellows; he has visited the dry-store at the nearest railway-station, and there has purchased a miscellane ous collection of the food-stuffs exported by the great canning industries of the world. Conscious of his efforts, he is careful as he makes the presentation to enumerate the prices of the various articles.

Then the lady of the house appears, and again the whole assembled throng almost sweeps the ground in the exuberance of its salutation. For the time being the court is at an end, and with a wave of his hand the sahib dismisses his dependants, and settles to his morning meal.

The sound of bare feet is heard pattering along the drive. Perspiring from every pore, a half-naked savage comes panting into the verandah. It is the dak-walla,' who, conscious that he brings the Christmas mail, has made half an hour on the limit allowed for his ten-mile run. The key is produced, and the leather satchel falls open to display that which is dearer to all exiles in India than anything else, the covers that bring messages from home. It is not for us here to enter into the details of their contents. It may be

3 Post-messenger.

messages from the aged parents in their home in Sussex; it may be a scrawling note from the child which has been separated from its mother these five long years; or it may be from the old friend who once was an everyday companion, and who, though separated by the chance of life, never forgets the past.

There is to be a Christmas gathering, and it is not long before the guests arrive. The first is the cheery parson. He has driven his old mare twenty miles, but that is nothing. Did he not drive her forty when Angus Smith lay dying a year ago? she can surely then cover twenty miles to hold a Christian service among a little colony of exiles. He is received by host and hostess with that bonhomie and delightful welcome which is only to be found amongst exiles in a foreign land. The next guest is a youth. He has come fifteen miles at a hand-canter rather than spend his Christmas Day alone. It is almost worth a journey to India to see the manner in which he sits his horse, for this kind are the men who from their youth up have earned their living in the saddle. And all through an hour bidden and unbidden guests continue to drop in, until at least a gathering of twenty is made.

A short service is held in the drawing-room, and then the whole party prepares to spend the morning in a pastime which appeals to most Englishmen, whether at home or abroad. The young man whose horsemanship we have already noticed disappears to the stables and shortly returns, surrounded by the most heterogeneous pack of hounds that ever caused a sportsman's pulse to quicken in its beat. In leash are two couple of foxhounds. These had been imported the previous year from England. Hunted through the cold weather, they were bought up at the end of the season by the youthful planter to become the nucleus of

his "bobbery" pack. To support his foxhounds he depended upon two gaunt half-bred greyhounds, a civilized pariah, and a dozen maybe offshoots and complications of the fox-terrier breed. You in your pink coats and well-polished tops may possibly despise so quaint an assortment, but those who have hunted behind such a pack know the fun and pleasure to be attained, even though it is the humblest imitation of the real pastime.

While the nondescript terriers are disporting themselves in the sheer ecstasy of the knowledge that they are to be out that morning, a dozen syces have arrived with a dozen horses almost as heterogeneous as the pack itself. Horses of all shapes and sizes, from the aristocratic waler which cost two thousand rupees in Calcutta to the pigmy country-bred which wasn't considered a bargain at seventy-five rupees in the neighboring bazaar. As soon as all are mounted, the owner of the pack, who fills the rôle of master, huntsman, and whip combined, leads his rabble out into the fields.

It is a beautiful cold-weather morning. Save for the fleecy haze which is inseparable from this season in Northern India, there is not a cloud in the sky. The whole arch of heaven is that beautiful deep blue for which those who have left the East may yearn but can never find elsewhere. The sun is not up high enough yet to destroy that bite in the air which is the feature of the Indian winter, and under which the white man is able to recuperate against the furnace of the summer. The hunt turns out into a great open plain of cultivated land,-land that is waiting for the early morning frosts to cease in order that it may receive the seed of the spring sowings. This plain is fringed with little mango-groves, and far on the left, where the smoke-bred mist hangs heaviest, nestles a tiny village, an occasional white-washed wall