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tion, and to say or do something that may remain in their own and their children's remembrance as a memorial.

This is, indeed, the most painful part of Indian exile. The insalubrity and oppression of its climate may be guarded against and alleviated; intercourse with Europe may be kept up, by correspondence; subjects with a large development of the bump of politics may have sent out bales of the Times and Morning Chronicle, according as the organs of conservativeness or destructiveness prevail; and they who, in addition to hearing the speculations of others, long to enlighten the world with their own, may at all times do so through the ever open columns of the Calcutta newspapers. Those again who wish to cultivate any particular department of science or literature have always opportunities of doing so, for there are few parts of the world where books are more easily procured than Calcutta. It is true that new English publications are unattainably expensive; but after the lapse of a few months, they are found selling in the bazaar, when the gloss of novelty is over, at a tenth part of their original cost. Besides this, cheap editions of all popular English and translations of French and German books are printed in America, and imported in large numbers into Calcutta, where

they sell at an equal or perhaps greater rate of reduction. The savans of France and the professors of Germany are fond of having their names included in the list of donors to the Asiatic Society, and almost universally present copies of their works to its library, which thus contains a vast store of valuable books, that (thanks to our wholesome laws against the importation of such a pernicious manufacture as foreign literature) are hardly procurable even in London; of these particularly are German and French periodicals; and lastly, there is the literature of Calcutta itself, Native, English, and AngloIndian, composing a mass of valuable information on all topics relative to India, and forming a vivid picture and genuine record of the opinions and manners of seventy millions of our fellow-subjects, from all knowledge of which the people of Britain (thanks to the operation of the same laws) are completely prohibited. "Malheureusement," says Baron de Sacy, speaking of Macan's edition of the Shah Namah, "les éditions de l'Inde parviennent difficilement en Europe;" and for some reason, best known to those at the head of affairs, the shores of Britain are girt as with a wall of iron against the admission of the literary products of our eastern dominions. The consequence is, that no intercommunity of literary feeling exists between

us; and that while we are perpetually complaining of the paucity of our information respecting Hindostan, we voluntarily deprive ourselves of that from which alone it can be obtained pure and unsophisticated, the statements of the inhabitants of India themselves, as they are to be found exhibited in every possible shape, by the innumerable newspapers, magazines, tracts and pamphlets, Native, English and Eurasian, that are perpetually issuing from the Indian press.

No country can possibly afford a richer field than India for the cultivation of the various branches of natural history, zoology, botany, geology, mineralogy, &c.; in short, the politician, the man of literature, and the man of science, will find abundant scope for the exercise of their respective powers, and were there no counterbalancing circumstances, each of these might live almost as happily in India as in Europe. But to the father of a family, all this can countervail nothing of what there may almost be called the eleventh commandment, thou shalt separate from thy children. For if there be any aphorism at all certain in Indian Hygiene, it is, that children of European parents cannot be reared in India, from birth to adult age, without destruction to their constitutions. No precautions in diet, clothing, lodging, exercise, or

exposure, can ward off the irresistible effects of climate. The general course of the young constitution is, that from birth till about the age of three, the child, passing over the usual ailments of dentition, appears tolerably healthy, in some cases even more so than its cotemporaries in Europe; but, after that period, it begins to droop, becomes emaciated, sallow and languid; loses strength, spirits and appetite, and is incapable of partaking in amusement or receiving education. Then it is that parents have to make the choice, between sending their children to Europe, and retaining them in India to see them daily wasting away before their eyes. A cruel alternative! when to the inevitable griefs of parting there is added, as is too often the case, the uncertainty of the treatment which the children are to receive at home, from friends whom perhaps the parents may not have seen or had communication with for many years; who may be utterly indifferent to their long absent relatives, and very little prepared either to receive the "living consignments" with affection, or to watch over them with care.

Such reflections do not, of course, occur to young men on their arrival in India, nor are they commonly awakened during the few first years of married life. While the children are young, parents

in general, too much occupied with the happiness of possessing them, willingly exclude from their minds all thoughts of parting, and give themselves up to a sort of dreamy persuasion, hardly amounting to belief, that, among the innumerable cases they see around them, theirs may be an exception, and that, though thousands of examples testify to the contrary, some additional care or precaution, or some latent good fortune in the constitution, may preserve their children unaffected by the fiery blasts of May and the steamy exhalations of October. But gradually time steals on, and the infant passes its fourth, fifth, sixth and seventh birthdays; the delusion begins to dissipate; languor, sallowness, loss of appetite and strength, unappeasable fretfulness and increasing emaciation, followed by more serious attacks of fever, and unconquerable derangement of bowels, arouse parents to the sad necessity of preparing for their children's departure.

When, after many a struggle between duty and affection, and many an excuse for delay, which the parents, even while making it, perceive to be fallacious, the transmission is finally determined upon and accomplished, it is not to be supposed that all the disadvantages of Indian exile terminate, or that the whole loss consists in a few years of absence. Far

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