SllUIIUIt, JEYPORE.

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baronial wars, and the feuds of Christian warriors. A horseman clad in chain mail,bearing his vizor up, and armed with shield and lance, mounted on a gallant steed,richly caparisoned, and clattering under the weight of defensive armour, will pass uson the road, like a knight repairing to a tournament. If we meet a chief, we find himsurrounded by spearmen, and we rarely encounter fire-arms of more modern construc-tion than those which succeeded the hand-cannon, the matchlock, and arquebus.

The distinguishing title of the children of the soil, “ the mild Hindoo,” so longsupposed to be characteristic of all the tribes who venerate the cow, and refuse to shedthe blood of animals; now that we have become more extensively acquainted with thecountry, is discovered to be wholly confined to the stunted, timorous race found inBengal and a few other districts on the coast. The inhabitants of the upper and cen-tral provinces have much more of the lion than the lamb in their composition; and theRajpoots, especially, whose trade is war, make some of the finest soldiers in the world.The Bengal army, so called in consequence of the name of the presidency to which it isattached, does not recruit its ranks in the province from which it takes its appellation,but is chiefly composed of daring spirits from Oude, Pytauns of high blood, and thedescendants of a race of princes, the warriors of Rajasthan .

The instant that we pass the boundaries of Bengal, we are struck with the changein the stature and appearance of the population. Tall athletic men, bearing a martialair, succeed to the diminutive and obsequious Bengalee. The natives of the UpperProvinces are altogether a finer race, morally as well as physically: they not only makebetter soldiers, but better servants; they are, generally speaking, more active andtrustworthy, and more susceptible of generous treatment: and they may be dependedupon with confidence in any emergency, for, where they are attached, they will standby their employers to the last, and defend them at the hazard of their lives.

As we penetrate farther into the heart of India , we meet with stronger indicationsof the military spirit which pervades the country. Since the fall of Bhurtpore, theexpiring effort of the neighbouring states to resist the progress of British ascendancy,the land has been at peace; but it is easy to perceive that the sword, though no longerdrawn, has not been laid aside. The cities and villages are still provided with thoseprimitive defences, considered efficient in a country in which the art of war has notprogressed as in Europe , or been reduced to a science; and the numerous fortressescrowning many a desert height, still bristle with spears, and reflect the sun’s beamsfrom targets and crested helms. The province of Jeypore , with its arid wastes andtoppling sand-hills, seems to be the fit retreat of the storm fiend, whose witheringbreath is poured in scorching blasts over the plains of Hindoostan. Though fromthe parched and apparently exhausted soil, crops are produced in extraordinary abun-dance—so fertilizing are the rains, so exuberantly fruitful the earth of these sunnyrealms—during many months of the year Jeypore exhibits a howling wilderness. Yetstill it is not destitute of vegetation. When the exhausted traveller sinks down, asthe deceptions hope which pointed to lakes and pools, receding as he advances, leaveshim to all the horrors of thirst, he finds a welcome solace and relief in those gigantic

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