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MONGOLIA.

THE general aspect of Mongolia is wild and gloomy; never is the eye relieved by the charm and variety of a landscape. The monotony of the steppes is broken only by ravines, great fissures, and stony sterile hills. Towards the north, in the country of the Khalkas, nature appears more animated; the summits of the mountains are crowned by forests, and the rich pasturage of the plain is watered by numerous rivers; but during the long season of winter the earth is buried under a thick covering of snow. From the side of the Great Wall, Chinese industry glides like a serpent into the desert. Towns begin to rise on all sides; the "Land of Grass" is being gradually covered by crops, and the Mongol shepherds are by degrees driven back to the north by the encroachments of agriculture.

The sandy plains occupy perhaps the greater part of Mongolia: and in these not a tree is to be seen; short brittle grass makes its way with difficulty through the barren soil, and creeping thorns, and some scanty tufts of heath, form the only vegetation, the sole pasturage, of Gobi. Water is extremely scarce, being only found in deep wells dug for the use of the travellers who are obliged to cross this miserable region.

There are but two seasons in Mongolia, nine months winter, and three summer. The heat is sometimes stifling, but it lasts a very short time; the nights are almost always cold. In the Mongol countries cultivated by the Chinese all agricultural labors must be got through within three months. As soon as the ground is sufficiently thawed, it is ploughed or rather scratched on the surface, and the seed thrown in; the crops grow with astonishing rapidity: while waiting for their maturity, the husbandmen are incessantly occupied in clearing away the profusion of weeds that encumber the ground. Scarcely is the harvest

gathered than the winter sets in with terrible severity. This is the threshing season: as the cold makes huge cracks in the earth, water is thrown over the threshing floor; it freezes immediately, and affords the laborers a smooth and perfectly clean surface for their operations.

The excessive cold of Mongolia is attributed to three causes the great elevation of the ground, the nitrous substances with which it is strongly impregnated, and the general deficiency of cultivation. In the parts the Chinese have broken up the temperature has risen in a remarkable degree; the heat increases, so to speak, from year to year, as cultivation advances; certain cereals, which at first did not thrive on account of the cold, now ripen remarkably well.

Mongolia, on account of its vast solitudes, has become the abode of a great number of wild animals. At almost every step, hares, pheasants, eagles, yellow goats, grey squirrels, foxes, and wolves are encountered. It is remarkable that the wolves of Mongolia attack men in preference to beasts; they may sometimes be seen to run through countless flocks of sheep, without doing them the least harm, in order to attack the shepherd. In the neighbourhood of the Great Wall they frequently enter the Tartar-Chinese villages, go to the farms, and disdaining the domestic animals they meet in the farm-yards, proceed straight into the house in search of their victims, whom they seize by the neck, and strangle. There is scarcely a village in Tartary that has not every year to deplore some misfortune of this nature.

The stag, the wild goat, the horse, the wild camel, the yak, the black and brown bear, the lynx, the ounce, and the tiger haunt the deserts of Mongolia. The Tartars never travel except well armed with bows, guns, and lances.

When we think of the horrible climate of Tartary, of the frozen, gloomy aspect nature there wears, we might be tempted to think that the inhabitants of such savage coun

tries must be of a harsh and fierce character; and their physiognomy, their air, even their costume, would appear to support the opinion. The Mongol has a flat face, high cheek bones, a short and retreating chin, the forehead slanting backwards, small obliquely-cut eyes, strongly tinged with bile, coarse black hair, a scanty beard, and the skin dark brown, and extremely coarse. The Mongol is of moderate stature, but his large leather boots, and wide sheep-skin robe, give the person a short and squat appearance. To complete the portrait must be added a clumsy, heavy gait, and a harsh, shrieking language, bristling with terrible aspirations.

Yet, notwithstanding this harsh and savage exterior, the Mongol is full of gentleness and humanity; he passes suddenly from the wildest and most extravagant gaiety to a melancholy that has nothing repulsive. Timid to excess in general, when excited by fanaticism or the desire of vengeance, he displays an impetuous courage that nothing can arrest; he is simple and credulous as a child, and is passionately fond of stories and marvellous recitals. To meet a travelling Lama he always reckons a piece of extreme good fortune.

The vices generally attributed to the Mongol Tartars are, aversion to labor, love of pillage and rapine, cruelty, and debauchery; and we are inclined to believe that the portrait given of them by old writers was not exaggerated. But do the Mongols of the present day resemble their ancestors? We believe ourselves justified in affirming the contrary, at least in great part. We have always found them generous, frank, hospitable; inclined, it is true, like ill-brought-up children, to appropriate little objects of curiosity, but in no manner addicted to what may be called robbery. As for their aversion to labor and a sedentary life, they are much the same as they always were: it must also be admitted that their morals in some points are very but their conduct, in this respect, proceeds more from

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thoughtlessness than corruption, and we rarely find among them the hideous and brutal excesses to which the Chinese are so violently addicted.

The Mongols are strangers to every species of industry; their felt carpets, skins coarsely tanned, and some few articles of sewing and embroidery, are not worth mentioning; but, on the other hand, they possess, in high perfection, the qualities of a pastoral and nomadic people, in the prodigious development of the senses of sight, hearing, and smell.

Huc.

A RIDE OVER A SIBERIAN STEPPE.

In a little more than an hour the sun rose, as if from the sea, casting its slanting rays into the desert, and lighting up the whole plain. This enabled me to examine my party. They were wild-looking fellows, dressed in various costumes. Several had horse-skin coats, with flowing manes down the centre of their backs; their shirts tucked into their belts of yellow leather. On their heads they had horse-skin caps, with part of the mane on the top, falling back like a helmet, which gave them a most ferocious aspect. Others had sheep-skin leather belts, and foxskin caps, with lappets hanging over their ears. Each man had his battle-axe, and three of them carried long lances, with tufts of black horsehair hanging beneath the spear. Thus armed and costumed, we formed an imposing cavalcade. Among the horses were animals of great beauty. Joul-bar had ordered for me a pair of dark iron-greys, of a race celebrated for speed and endurance. The spare ones were divided among nine Kirghis; leaving the Cossacks, three Kirghis, and myself, free for defence if necessary. Although the chief of the tribe thought it probable that we might meet with some of the roving gentlemen of the

steppe, neither the Cossacks nor myself entertained any apprehension. We were well mounted, and our rifles could give a good account of our assailants, should we be attacked. For the first hour we rode slowly over rich pastures that were soon to be cropped bare by the first herds feeding upon them. After this our horses were put into a quicker pace, and we shortly began to leave the grassy steppe behind.

There was a belt along the edge of the desert, about two miles in width, on which tufts of rough grass were growing, and broad patches of plants having succulent leaves and deep crimson flowers. These were quickly passed, and we entered upon a sandy waste, which to the south, the east, and the west, appeared a sea of sand. Stopping my horse, I glanced back at the aoul and the herds we had left: a few camels and horses only could be seen, now diminished almost to specks; but the huts and the people were no longer visible. I desired the Kirghis to point out the direction of our route, which was nearly south-west, and then we started onwards. For many miles the sand was hard like a floor, over which we pushed on at a rapid pace. After this we found it soft in places, and raised into thousands of little mounds by the wind. Our horses were now changed, and in an hour these mounds were passed, when we were again on a good surface, still riding hard.

Hour after hour went by, and our steeds had been changed a second time,—those we started with seeming as fresh as when they left the aoul. In our route there was no change visible, it was still the same plain; there was not so much as a cloud floating in the air, that, by casting a shadow over the steppe, could give a slight variation to the scene. At noon I called a halt, to look round with my glass; but nothing appeared on the sandy waste. When mid-day had

passed, my attendants desired to stop. The horses were piqueted in three groups, but we could procure them neither grass nor water. The Kirghis produced smoked horse-flesh

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