The Press. — London, England, 1854-04-15 00:00:00

religion, whose head-quarters is 1,,-SQO miles to the south, at Lassa. The narrative of this episode of travel, though novel and interest ing, is too long for abridgment. Siberian travel is rough and fatiguing, but, as far as Yakoutsk, not dangerous. From thence to the Paeific coast is a journey of 800 miles, through one of the most sterile and miserable regions of the globe, almost un peopled, and swarming with wild animals. Horses, or rather ponies, are the only means of conveyance ; the road lies among inter minable and perilous morasses ; and a party immediately preceding Mr. Hill's lost two men by the attacks of bears. All provisions must be taken with the traveller; but the Yakoutes have a resource unavailable to Europeans, in the bark and. young shoots of the spruce fir, which they boil down into a kind of soup. The journey occupied our author only 25 days, but is seldom performed in less that 40 or 50. Oehotsk itself appears to combine every dis-, advantage of situation, soil, and climate which can man make a human residence in tolerable : The unhealthiness of Ochotsk is More the effect of the position of the town with respect to the sea and the sur rounding country, than of its latitude and longitude. Placed between the ocean and lands which in summer are heated by so many hours of sunshine, it is exposed during the best months of the year to almost perpetual cold and damp winds from the sea; while in the spring it is sub jected to the effects of an impure air, proceeding from animal matter in a state of decomposition, which covers the morass along the opposite shores of the river. Here great quantities of salmon take shelter in the autumn, and are frozen, and lie embedded during the winter ; and, when the sun melts the ice in the spring, the swamps are found covered with the pestiferous animal matter. Thus the little settlement, as often as the wind is off shore, is er posed to all the effects of the malaria, and fevers and diarrhoea now prevail. The causes, indeed, of the pesti lence are not of long continuance ; for as the rivers begin to swell, by the melting of the snow at their sources, the mo rasses which border them are cleared of the intolerable nuisance. But scarcely, however, does this take place be fore the town is subjected to the winds, almost as destruc tive to health as the pestilential atmosphere from which it has been so lately relieved. It is said by the inhabitants that Ochotak, so unblessed by nature, wants in effect three out of the four elements which compose the material world and support life else where. Their houses, they say, are built upon loose shin gles, amidst which their dead sleep; and thus they must needs want the proper element that composes the earth. For their water they say that in summer they have to send ten or twelve miles up the current of the river, which flows in a brackish stream by their doors. And when the state of the ice in spring and autumn prevents their so doing, and the snow which they melt in winter is gone, they have to drink of a single impure spring, from which flows all the water they possess. And their air, the element denied to no living creatures that walk the earth, is at one season rendered insufferable by the causes above mentioned, and at another loaded with drift snow, and at a third a mere blast from the ocean, almost as inimical to life as the malaria with which it is loaded in the spring. Fire, they say, alone of the four elements comforts them. Mr. Inn reckons that one man out of every five residing there was disabled by illness. Government officers are only reconciled to their quarters by double pay, and certain pro motion at the end of five years. One disease here prevalent is peculiar to Eastern Siberia. It seems to consist in a temporary mental derangement, always brought on by any sur prise or shock. Natives as well as Russians are liable to it, and both recover when re moved to a better climate. -- - Of the liamschatkdales we learn little beyond what other writers had already made known. They are docile and obedient, easily kept in order, in which they differ wholly from the hitherto untamed Tuski, or Tehoutchi, described by Lieutenant Hooper. This last tribe vigorously repel all, attempts at aggres sion, and destroyed, without sparing one, a party of 200 Russian soldiers sent to explore their country. - - In conclusion, we recomthend these volumes to all readers interested in tales of travel. Mr. Hill's estimate of Russian character will by most persons be thought too favourable ; but it is a relief, when overwhelmed by the torrents of exaggerated abuse ' and vague declamation poured out against the Czar and his subjects, to hear—whether we assent to them or not—the conclusions of an observer who is certainly independent, and who probably means to be impartial. !••••• TritilPtiE SS. The Heir of Vallie. By William Mathews. Three Volumes. London : Smith, Elder, and Co. Is many respects this is a remarkable novel. It has a singularly vigorous plot, in which the incidents are skilfully concatenated, and, in the laying out of the 'whole story, much construc tive capacity is displayed. Nor are the ingre dients of the fiction devoid of interest, though the eventualities partake too closely of the romance that may be fund in " The Newgate Calendar." The prolonged consequence of evil deeds, the writhings of a mind racked by tor tured memory, and the agony of anxiety lest a dark secret should be revealed are the elements in which this author has worked with consi derable power. But when we have acknow ledged so much' our praise must end. He nei ther touches the reader when he attempts the pathetic, nor thrills us when he seeks to depict the terrible. He introduces us to scenes where genius would be required to give vitality and colour. With abundance of sense, he has but little sentiment ; while he analyses his characters, and shows us their mechanism, his sympathies seem to be congealed, and, not feeling for the beings of his own invention, he proves the truth of the old canon of criticism, that he cannot make others feel who does not feel himself. His abilities challenge us to be critical ; and, with a writer of less mental vi gour, we would not record a verdict at such length. Nor must we omit to remark that his nomenclature is open to some objection. One of the leading characters is a " Charley Napier," a sort of personage whose proceedings would not obtain a cry of " Bravo, Charley !" and who has only a nominal association with the pane gyrist of sharp cutlasses. So also, in the scenes of Parisian life we are introduced to a Count Mole, who is represented as one of the actors in the story! The use of such familiar names in fiction should be avoided by a novel ist. As it is the first time that Mr. William Ma thews appears in fiction, we will give our rea ders some specimens of his writing. Here is a scene in a Parisian gaming-house : The play had gone on. Ashtonby had freely allowed Neville to keep his score. He now took the paper from his hand, pored over the amount standing against him ; then said, with blanched cheek and quivering lip, " A heavy sum !" and an oath tbllowed—" Twice the amount I thought I had lost !—The devil is in the cards ! " He seemed quite stupefied by his misfortune. With all his errors until now he had shunned wholesale gambling. The tempter was still by him. "Try one grand coup, Ashtonby !" whispered Neville— " Double or quit ! — I have kn own D'Aigrigny so silly as to consent to such a proposal. On certain nights he fancies himself invincible ! " " Yes! yes'—What say you, sir, double or quit the amount I owe you ? " And Ashburton tossed the score towards his opponent.' The latter hesitated. "It is a large amount. Let Neville decide." Mr. Neville decided. " D'Aigrigny had had great luck ! —such as he had never witnessed. Ile should be satisfied with the gold, and play Ashtonby one coup upon the score, though he confessed the chances were against him." Ashtonby loosened his shirt-collar, and, with brow rigidly knit, he said, " Now then we cut for deal." These few words fell in harsh, strange accents. They did so. D'Aigrigny dealt ; and then Napier crossed the ru s bicon and stoodbefore them, or rather he stood behind D'Aigrigny, facing Ash tonby and Neville. lie had drawn his mask from his face, and was evidently bent on mischief. His gaze was fixed with a stern meaning on Neville's face. The latter looked up to attract his confederate's attention when he caught Napier's eye upon him. lie almost started from his chair—he was terribly confused. He saw at the moment how things were. Then all his old pride and hate came. hate and fear mingled, and a devilish face these passions made of it. Hate seemed to triumph, for the warm blood swept as a torrent over the countenance, as he thrust back his chair and rose upon his logs. D'Aigrigny's eyes had not been idle ; he turned to see the cause of Neville's strange conduct, and found a stern, soul-searching gaze upon him. " Ah ! my friend! ' —D'Aigrigny got thus far; but it would not do. Napier's bearing said too plainly—" Villain, you are known ! " He seized the wine drank deeply, then tried to carry off the matter with a frowning brow. But he could not act the part—he looked the skulking thief he was. There was no light in the eye ;no glow upon the cheek. lie felt at the mercy of the man whose confidence lie had vilely abused. Conscious of his rascality, he. at once concluded, through what means he knew not, that Napier was in possession of the secret that, if told, would ruin him in the eyes of society. All was confusion. He played a card without waiting for Ashtonby to propose, and forgot to mark the king—which had been a frequent guest in his hand that night. Napier kept his post. Ne ville stood sullenly by. He no doubt felt he dared not lift an eye ; he dreaded the public exposé which impended paralysed. them. The machinations of the pair were completely But Neville, at length, did more ; it seemed SATURDAY,_ he oould not endure Napier's scrutiny—he lounged away from Ashtonby, observing, " Play your own cards; I'm tired of it !"—Ashtonby did so, and made two points. Ne ville drew near to D'Agrigny's side. Upon which Napier shifted his ground, and stood by Ashtonby. Ashtonby did not notice him ; his head was bent low to the table, with a gaze upon the cards, such as a hungry beggar-boy would cast on tood beyond his reach. The band passed—Ash tonby added a point to his score—mtd then another. The next his opponent won. Upon which Neville took Ash ' tonby's cards and shuffled them, thinking perhaps it was better to appear as little concerned about Napier's pre sence as possible. • • • • " Had t lost that stake," he said, half hysterically, " should have blown my brains out ; " and he drank a copious draught, then sat down, resting his hands upon his knees ; in pain he seemed, for the nervous system had been cruelly tortured. It was a piteous, a degrading spectacle. A man not five-and-twenty years of age, gifted by nature in no com mon degree, by fortune far beyond his wants, sacrificing peace of mind, and trampling out the life of happiness, to indulge in an amusement which his own reason had before taught him was baneful, treacherous, and false. He had sat—the man of warm affections, high hopes, and generous impulses—in opposition to the cold and scheming swindler. In an hour he had so committed himself that but for a mere chance he would have felt tempted to have sacrificed his own existence. He had this night entered that den, high in heart, prosperous beyond the reach of wealth, and blest in many ways. An hour, and he sat with his face con cealed by his hands, upon the palms of which the hot and throbbing temple was pressed with spasmodic force. And here, in the third volume, we have a de scription well worked up of a deadly personal encounter:— Napier seated' himself at his desk to make all necessary arrangements in case of a fatal result, and had barely com pleted his task when he heard a slight sound, as if some one had tried the lock of his door ; and, glancing at his watch, he found that time was bordering on midnight. Placing the letter he had written in his desk, he stepped lightly to the door, drew back the bolt, and peered stealthily around. In the distance he traced a glimmering light, which, as he surmised, proceeded from a small Limp borne by Jacques Duport on his way to admit his friends. Some minutes passed, and Napier stood concealed in the drapery of his bed in breathless anxiety. At lengthhe heard the door of his dressing-room open. He freed his arms from all encumbrance, and stood in readiness to spring upon the intruder, whom he now supposed was approaching his bed. Napier had taken the precaution to close the curtains of his bed, so that it. was impossible to detect him until they were moved back ; and as he was esconced in the folds of the drapery on that side at which n it was most probable his visitor would appear, his position was well chosen ; and, in the absence of some untoward event, would give him a great advantage. Napier now detected a footfall in his apartment : it drew on towards his bed ; and then a hand was laid cautiously on the curtain, which was drawn slightly aside. A step forward was then inade,when a fierce basilisk glance rested on the empty couch. There was not time ler it to be with drawn before a crushing blow descended, and Napier sprang with the bound of a tiger on his foe. The stranger was taken by surprise ; and, though so suddenly confounded, and partially stunned, the awful na ture of his position inspired him with desperate courage and energy. He rallied all his power; at the instant. Victory seemed to crown Napier's bold attack, and he threw himself with wild fury on his resolute antagonist. The struggle was terrific ; both were powerful men—one ani mated by as potent a desire as man ever experienced to overcome another—the other inspired by the evil passion of revenge, and likewise well aware that liberty, if not life, was the point at issue. The stranger had gained a mo mentary advantage : his left hand tightened with vicious intent on Napier's cravat, and with his right be plucked a pistol from his belt. Napier seized the barrel of the weapon and strove to wrench it from his opponent. It exploded, and an individual who had that instant bounded into the room received the contents in his chest, and fell headlong on the floor. A voice from the room beyond sounded shrill, yet terrible in its agony of direful apprehension:— " The man who fired that shot dies by my hand ! " and, dashing an individual with whom the speaker of this threat was contending far from him on the marble flags, he bounded into Napier's apartment—cut an agonising glance around, and, observing the character of affairs, he cried in the fervour of heartfelt gratitude " Thank God! he is safe," and, fixing his muscular grasp on the throat of Napier's antagonist, Pearson wrenched the latter from his hold, and held him with an iron gripe incapable of moving. The affray had occupied less time than it has taken to recount it. Langton and the Count Mole had burst m upon the party. At a glance they perceived the result of the struggle ; and then, as Count Mole's eye rested on the form of the individual who had fallen at the discharge of the pistol, he bent over him sternly, saying : "I will ease you of your ma sk, my friend, that we may the face of him who seems to have received his death warrant in so discreditable a business," and he plucked the pasteboard blind from the face of the prostrate man. He hail no sooner done so than he started back as if an adder had stung him. " Mother of Heaven ! " he cried, in a voice that arrested the attention of even those so terribly excited. " Alphonse D'Aigriguy ! in the name of all the saints, what brought you hither ? " " Revenge " muttered the dying man ; and, raising himself upon his elbow, he drew a pistol from his breast and was bringing itto a level with I.angton's person, when the Count Mole, with a stroke of his foot, struck it from r