they or their friends now declare that they were guiltless of all hostile intent, and that the Belooches alone were the cause of the attack on Major Outram, the Ameers may complain of their bad fortune, but not of the injustice of their fate. It is only that the ancient method has been reversed-Delirant Achivi, plectuntur reges.

But the case of Sobdar Khan, if we accept the statement of Captain Postans, is different. From the beginning of the negotiations in 1836, this chief had invariably been the friend and partisan of the English. Whatever wish was expressed, whatever demand was made or treaty dictated, Sobdar Khan unhesitatingly acceded to it. To his unbending resolution it was due (Papers, p. 206) that the other Ameers accepted the revised treaty which Lord Auckland required of them. His conduct was consistent throughout, and the first act of hostility which we find imputed to him was the presence of his followers at the battle of Meeanee. How this occurred we do not learn. It was perhaps absolutely necessary for his own safety, that when the other Ameers collected their troops, he should assemble his. That the feelings which animated the rest should extend also to his followers, whatever were the wishes of their chief, need not surprise us. We are willing even to admit that, according to the strict letter of the law, he was liable to the treatment he has received, in consequence of their conduct; but where the province of justice ends, that of mercy, let us add also, of good policy, commences. There is little of the latter in confounding the constant coadjutor with the ever-intriguing, though vacillating enemy; in making it public to all the princes and allies, whether firm or wavering, who watch the conduct of our Indian government, that unvarying friendship is no defence in the day when their dependents, even without their consent, rebel against the English. This, however, is purely hypothetical, for we have no sure grounds for believing that he was guilty of no offence himself. Personally he was of little consequence: a man of no character, acting with the English on account of his hostility to the other Ameers, he would, doubtless, like other Mahomedan princes have readily acted against them if it suited his private feelings. It is vain, however, to judge in England of what future course

of policy should be pursued in isolated cases in India. It is enough if public opinion condemn injustice, and test acts which have already been done by the one great principle of justice. It is this principle which is the foundation-stone of our empire over so many nations which have for centuries been accustomed to the arbitrary rule of capricious and unprincipled sovereigns, and which, divided as they are into innumerable castes and sects, can have no hope of justice for the majority except from their British rulers.

The immediate advantages which the possession of Sinde will bring with it are balanced by some disadvantages. The entire command of the Indus can scarcely be too highly valued, notwithstanding all the difficulties and obstructions which are met with in its navigation. This river is navigable, with varying facility, for 950 miles from the sea. It receives the drain of a vast tract of country; the south side of the Himalaya, which abuts on the Punjab, the north side, and the plains of Tartary as far as the sources of the Oxus and the streams which run into the China seas, as well as the southern part of Affghanistan, contribute to the Indus. At its lowest compass it is nearly twice as large as the Ganges, and discharges 40,857 cubic feet of water in a second; at its maximum more than ten times that quantity. It has also the advantage of the early melting of the snows of Tartary and the Himalaya, which swell its waters at a season when the Ganges is still low. Nine hundred miles from the sea it is 186 feet deep, but the usual depth is four fathoms, and even this cannot be relied on. The soundings are continually changing from the shifting of sand-banks, which have even been known, though rarely, to make a fordable passage across the whole stream. In such a case the trading boats anchor and wait till the force of the current shall have formed a small channel in some part of the bar. This once effected,-and the sands have so little consistency that it seldom takes a long time,-the dissolution of the greater part proceeds rapidly till the whole is carried off to form other banks lower down. Under such difficulties the navigation must always labour, as well as from the force of the stream in the upward voyage; but it has hitherto been depressed in other respects.

Most important perhaps of all, next to the river-toll and

irregular exactions which were levied under the Ameers, and are now put an end to, was the virtual impossibility of procuring timber fit to build good boats. In the lower half of the Indus, the usual boat is one of seventy-five tons burthen; this large craft was built of the miserable unseasoned wood which grows on the banks, and in one keel planks of every variety of species and size might be observed. The best material, the teak of western India, was prohibited to the humble boatmen of the Indus by its dearness; but the opening of the river, the removal of transit-duty and the commercial activity which may be expected, will remove this and many other inconveniences. The greatest immediate benefit will accrue to the Punjab, whose grain, cotton and indigo will find an outlet which has hitherto not practically existed to any great extent. Bombay will become an entrepôt for goods destined for the Punjab and central Asia, to a far greater amount than has hitherto been the case, as long as those countries remain at peace. But it is in a military view that the Indus is invaluable. The command of it by a steam flotilla, and the position on the flank of an invader marching to Delhi which would be held by an army in Sinde, are ample securities against the latter contingency ever occurring. These advantages have never been possessed by any former rulers of India, and, in the event of an invasion, would cause it to terminate in a very different manner from those which have hitherto taken place. The chief disadvantage of possessing Sinde is, that it attaches us permanently to the new system of intimate foreign relations which had been created by the Affghan war. It will at the same time extend our influence through central Asia and anticipate the plans imputed to Russia, but it is as yet very doubtful if the increase of influence will counterbalance the liability to war and other interference, which the permanence of our new connexion may entail. The rich plans of Cutch Gundâva, which are possessed by the tribes of Beloochistan, are so easily commanded by troops stationed in Sinde, that our influence over that principality can, by able management, be peaceably and securely retained; but the hill tribes on the northern frontiers know by experience that, aided by their mountains, they can repel a British force. The neighbouring parts of Sinde lie open to their bands of plunderers, to whom their fastnesses afford a

secure refuge. We may thus become engaged in constant petty hostilities, a Caucasus on a small scale, if offensive operations are attempted; but a strong mounted police and activity in the pursuit and punishment of marauders, will probably suffice to repress the evil.

The general effect of the possession of Sinde on our foreign relations is, that from being almost exclusively an Indian power, England becomes, equally with Russia, an Asiatic power, with greater military means than Russia of pouring troops into central Asia for aggressive operations, and, for defensive measures, with a frontier so constructed as to render one false step fatal to an invading army. We trust that time will render neither necessary.

ARTICLE VII.

1. Six Lectures on Heroes and Hero Worship. By THOMAS CARLYLE. London: Fraser, 1841.

2. Sartor Resartus: in Three Books. By THOMAS CARLYLE. London: Fraser, 1841.

3. Past and Present. By THOMAS CARLYLE. London: Chapman and Hall, 1843.

WE gladly take the opportunity offered by the publication of a new work by Mr. Carlyle, to express our opinion of this remarkable writer. We say, our opinion of the writer,-of his genius and tendencies, rather than of his books,-of the idea which inspires him, rather than of the form with which he chooses to invest it. The latter in truth is of far less importance than the former. In this period of transition from doubt to aspiration, this "sick and out-of-joint" time, old ideas die away, or weigh upon the heart like midnight dreams: young ones spring up to view, bright-coloured and fresh with hope, but vague and incomplete, like the dreams of the morning. We stand wavering between a past whose life is extinct, and a future whose life has not yet begun; one while discouraged, at another animated by glorious presentiments, looking through the clouds for some star to

guide us. One and all, like Herder, we demand of the instinct of our conscience, a great religious thought which may rescue us from doubt, a social faith which may save us from anarchy, a moral inspiration which may embody that faith in action and keep us from idle contemplation. We ask this especially of those men, in whom the unuttered sentiments and aspirations of the multitudes are concentrated and harmonized with the highest intuition of individual conscience. Their mission changes with the times. There are periods of a calm and normal activity, when the thinker is like the pure and serene star which illumines and sanctifies with its halo of light that which is. There are other times, when genius must move devotedly onward before us, like the pillar of fire in the desert, and fathom for us the depths of that which shall be. Such are our times: we cannot at the present day merely amuse ourselves with being artists, playing with sounds or forms, tickling only our senses, instead of pondering some germ of thought which may save us. We are scarcely disposed, living in the nineteenth century, to act like that people mentioned by Herodotus, who beguiled eighteen years of famine by playing with dice and tennis-balls.

The writer with whom we have now to deal, by the nature of his labours and the direction of his genius, authorizes the examination we propose to make. He is melancholy and grave: he early felt the evil which is now preying upon the world, and from the outset of his career he proclaimed it loudly and courageously.

"Call ye that a society," he exclaims, in one of his first publications, "where there is no longer any social idea extant, not so much as the idea of a common home, but only of a common over-crowded lodging-house? where each, isolated, regardless of his neighbour, turned against his neighbour, clutches what he can get, and cries Mine!' and calls it Peace, because in the cut-purse and cut-throat scramble, no steel knives, but only a far cunninger sort can be employed-where friendship, communion, has become an incredible tradition, and your holiest sacramental supper is a smoking tavern dinner, with cook for evangelist? where your priest has no tongue but for plate-licking, and your high guides and governors cannot guide; but on all hands hear it passionately proclaimed, Laissez-faire! Leave us alone of your guidance-such light is darker than darkness-eat your wages, and sleep*."

*Sartor Resartus, Book iii. chap. 6.