in the form in which we have them at present. We have called this view of the subject hypothetical, because the data he alludes to are not established with a sufficient degree of certainty, and even the arguments which are drawn from them are far too nicely spun. It must be admitted, how ever, that the opinions of M. Freret and M. Bailly are nearly in unison with those of our distinguish ed countryman. Mr. Colebroke, on the contrary, regards the whole of these as about two centuries less ancient than sir William Jones: while in the opinion of other orientalists of great credit and learning, the pretensions of the Puranas are sunk to comparatively a modern date, and those of the Vedas themselves very considerably shaken. "The Puranas," says Mr. Wilford, (Asiatic Researches, vol. iv. p. 244.) " are certainly a modern compilation from valuable materials that I am afraid nolonger exist. An astronomical observation of the heliacal rising of Canopus, mentioned in two of the Puranas, puts this beyond doubt." Mr. Bently (Id. viii. p. 240.) has followed a similar plan of calculation, and concludes, as the result of his argument, that "it must be evident that none of the modern romances, commonly called the Puranas, at least in the form they now stand in, are older than 684 years, but that some of them are the compilation of still later times."Such opinion, so far as it relates to the eighteenth or last of the Puranas, the Bhagavat, or Life of Krishna, is even countenanced, indeed, by Mr. Colebroke, who intimates that the Pundits themselves are divided upon this subject: "I am myself," says he, "inclined to adopt an opinion, supported by many learned Hindus, who consider the celebrated Sri (or Surya) Bhagavata as the work of a grammarian, supposed to have lived about six hundred years ago." Asiat. Researches, viii. p. 487.

These arguments and observations indirectly affect the supposed high antiquity of the Vedas, which is also rendered something more than suspicious by another fact. Mr. Wilkins, in his preface to the Gita, or songs of Krishna, observes, that Krishna, throughout the whole, makes mention of three Vedas only, and those the three first in their present order; the fourth, proving itself hereby a posterior work, makes mention of Krishna himself. This was remarked to several pundits who assisted in the translation, all of whom expressed great astonishment at it, as it had escaped the notice of all the numerous commentators on the Gita. It was to this fact we alluded, in noticing in an anterior passage the doubts that have long existed concerning the genuineness of the fourth, or At'herva-veda. We may shortly, however, expect far more important and satisfactory information upon these points, from the activity with which the Braminical legends are now sought after, examined, and translated by Asiatic scholars, both in their private capacity, and under the express orders of the Anglo-Indian government. Under these auspices a considerable part of the Ramayana has already been literally translated by those learned and indefatigable missionaries, Dr. Carey and Mr. Marshman, who expect to be able to complete this singular and bulky mythos of Valmiki, or Valmeeki, in ten volumes quarto; and will probably immediately afterwards turn a similar attention to the Mahabarat of Vyasa.

We noticed at the commencement of this article that a complete copy of the Vedas has been presented to the British Museum by Colonel Polier, through the hands of sir Joseph Banks. We shall

add, as a document of great curiosity and interest, the letter which accompanied this magnificent donation, the original of which will be found in the British Museum, and which proves abundantly the difficulty that existed not many years ago of obtaining any certain knowledge in regard to the doctrines and literature of the Bramins. The letter is addressed to the enlightened and right honourable president of the Royal Society, and bears date, London, May 20, 1789.

"Since the English by their conquests and situation have become better acquainted with India, and its aborogines, the Hindous, the men of science throughout Europe have been very anxious of learning something certain of those sacred books which are the basis of the Hindu religion, and are known in India and elsewhere, under the name of the Baids (Vaids, Vedas). Many endeavours we know have been exerted to promote them, not only on the coast of Coromandel, but also in several parts of Bengal, and even at Bennares but hitherto this book could not be had in any of those places, complete and original; and nothing could be obtained but various shasters (sastaras) which are only commentaries of the Baids, to expound and explain such difficult passages as occur in them. During a long residence in the upper provinces of Hindustan, I made it also my business particularly to enquire for these books; and the more so, as I found doubts had arisen in Europe of their very existence. My researches at Awd, Lucknow, Agra, and Delhi were perfectly useless, and I could not in any of these places obtain what I wanted. Thus disappointed, I thought of sending to Jaypour for them, and was led to it from a knowledge that during the persecution the Hindus suffered throughout India, and which began in the twelfth year of the reign of Aurengzeb (the persecution was at its height in the year of the Hejira 1090, or of ours 1679, on account of the rebellion of Odaipour), the Rajah of Anbair, Ram Sing, from the important services rendered by his father the Great Jaysing, and his own attachment to the emperor, escaped, if not entirely, at least a great part of that persecution, which levelled to the ground all the Hindou places of worship in the provinces, and caused the destruction of all the religious books which could be found belonging to the Hindous. In consequence, I wrote to s correspondent at Jaypour, and soon learnt from him that the Baids were to be procured there, but that no copy could be obtained from the Brahmans, without an order or permission from Pertab Sing, who was then the Rajah of the place, and is the same prince who has so lately been en gaged in war with Saindheah, and who is a grandson of that famous Rajah Tay Sing (Mirzah Rajah) who built Jaypour close to Anbair, and was the founder also of the famous observatories at Jaypour and Delhi, &c. and the editor of some curious astronomical tables which he gave to the world under the name of Mohammed Shah, then on the throne of Delhi. Having a small knowledge of the Rajah, whom I had scen a few years before, when he paid his court to Shah Alum, then encamped in the neighbourhood of Jaypour, I hesitated not in applying to him, by letter, for his permission to have the copy I so much wanted, and my friend Don Pedro de Silva, a worthy Portuguese physician in the service of the Rajah, undertook to deliver it, and to for ward the application with his solicitations if ne cessary.

"Pertal Sing, on reading this letter, smiling, asked Don Pedro what use we Europeans could make of their holy books? on which he represented that it was usual with us to collect and consult all kinds of valuable books, of which we formed in Europe public libraries; and that the Baids, though much sought after, could not be met with any where else, and that, without his permission, the Brehmans refused to give a copy. On this the Rajah immediately issued an order such as we wanted, and, in the course of a year, paying the Brehmen transcribers at a certain rate for every hundred ashlok or stanza, I obtained the books which form the subject of this address, and which I had so long wished to possess.

“On my receiving those books at Lucknow, I still found many among the Europeans, who yet doubted their real authenticity, so strong were the prejudices entertained; from the little success we had hitherto had in procuring them, and from the doubts cast on their very existence by some modern travellers. But the books having been shown to the late Rajah Anundram, a learned Brehman, then at Lucknow, and a person well known to many in England, he immediately recognised them for true and authentic, and begged of me to leave them some time with him. At my request he afterwards separated them in manageable volumes, as they now are; and this I thought necessary, the better to preserve them, for originally they were in loose sheets; the Hindous, in general, seldom or never binding their sacred books, particularly the Baids. But I was obliged to promise him, which I readily did, they should not be bound in any kind of leather, but either in silk or velvet. Rajah Anundram further number ed the pages, and with his own hand wrote in Persian characters, for my information, not only the title-page of each volume, but also of each section, and the number of leaves they severally

contain.

"By this it may be seen how little a dependance is to be placed in the assertions of those who have represented (all) the Brehmans as very averse to the communication of the principles of their religion, their mysteries, and holy books. In truth, I have always found those who were really men of science and knowledge very ready to impart and communicate what they knew to whoever would receive it and listen to them with a view of information, and not merely for the purpose of turning into ridicule whatever was not perfectly consonant to our European ideas, tenets, and even prejudices; some of which, I much fear, are thought by the Indians to be full as deserving of ridicule as any thing they have. At the same time it must be owned, that all the Hindous, the Brehmans only excepted, are forbidden by their religion from studying and learning the Baids; the Khatrys alone being permitted to hear them read and expounded. This being the case, it will naturally be asked how came an European, who is not even of the same faith, to be favoured with what is denied even to a Hindou? To this the Brehmans readily reply, that being now in the Cal Jog, or fourth age, in which religion is reduced to nought, it matters not who sees or studies them in these days of wickedness, since by the deerees of the Supreme Being it must be S. At the same time, notwithstanding, I have

not observed that the Baids are a bit the more explained to the two lower classes among the Hindous, the Bais and the Sender.

To return from this digression.-Possessed, VOL. XI.-PART II.

now, of these sacred manuscripts, which I precured for the sole purpose of communicating to those who would benefit from their perusal, I soon after sent them to sir William Jones, the only European then in India, I believe, who could read and expound any part of them. From that learned gentleman, whose knowledge and merits are far above my praise, we may expect to learn in the future memoirs of the Asiatic Society what are his opinions relative to them, the surmises in India, and even among the Brehmans, about the authenticity, or at least the merits, of one of the four Baids, called the Atterban, and in all likelihood some extracts and translations from each and on that account, I shall beg leave to refer you for any further information on these books to one who is so competent to give the publie the fullest and the truest.

"The Baids are now in London, and accompany this address: the purport of which is to request of you, Sir, as one of the trustees of the British Museum, to receive and lodge them in that valuable and noble repository, as a small token and tribute of respect and admiration, from one who, though not born a natural subject, yet having spent the best part of his life in the service of this country, is really unacquainted with any other."

VEDENSKOI, a town of Russia, in the government of Archangel, situate on the Vokscha, 200 miles E.S.E. of Archangel. Lon. 46. 44 E. Lat. 58. 45 N.

VEDETTE, in war, a centinel on horseback, with his horse's head towards the place whence any danger is to be feared, and his carabine advanced, with the butt-end against his right thigh. When the enemy has encamped, there are vedettes posted at all the avenues, and on all the rising grounds, to watch for its security.

To VEER. v. n. (virer, French.) To turn about (Roscommon).

To VEER. v. a. 1. To let out (Ben Jonson). 2. To turn; to change (Brown).

To VEER and HAUL, to pull a rope tight, by drawing it in and slackening it alternately, till the body to which it is applied acquires an additional motion, like the increased vibrations of a pendulum, so that the rope is straitened to a greater tension with more facility and dispatch. This method is particularly used in hauling the bowlines. The wind is said to

veer and haul when it alters its direction, and becomes more or less fair. Thus it is said to veer aft and to haul forward.

VEER, Ter-Veer, anciently Camp-Veer, a town of Zealand in the United Provinces, standing at the mouth of the East Schelde, about four miles from Middleburgh, and eight from Flushing. Veer, in Dutch, signifies a passage or ferry over an arm of the sea or a river; and as there was once a ferry here over the Schelde to the village of Compen, on the island of North Beveland, the town thereby got the name of Veer, Camp-Veer, and TerVeer. It is well fortified, and formerly enjoyed a good trade, especially to Scotland; the natives enjoying particular privileges here. The harbour is very good, and the arsenal the best furnished in the world. Hence the Veres, an

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tude of places, or to the distance between them; sometimes bringing together in the same climate plants of the most distant countries; and some times denying this conformity of vegetables to regions exactly alike, both in soil and temperature.

In this zone of trees, the rhododendron ferrugineum, L. a little shrub peculiar to the mountains of Europe solely, is very abundant. It never descends into the plains, and can hardly be cultivated in a garden, demanding its native air, soil, water, nay snows, and even there only occupies particular spots. Nothing is more beautiful when in flower, but nothing is more untractable. In the Pyrenees it first appears at exactly 1600 metres of elevation, stopping as precisely at 2790 yards, and within these limits Is so abundant and vigorous, that it would be as difficult to extirpate it there, as it is to cultivate it elsewhere.

The juniper traverses far beyond this circle, up to the elevation of 2900 metres, but this shrub, as it ascends, gradually loses the habit and appearance which distinguish it in our plains: there, it resembles the juniper of Sweden and Lapland, with a low spreading stem, prostrate on the ground, seeking an asylum, as it were, by instinct, on those sides of the rocks exposed to the south or west, against which it spreads out Its branches into an espalier, with a regularity which art can seldom attain.

In a more elevated region, we find the rigour of the climate will not permit the existence of any shrub whatever, which the first snows do not entirely cover. Still higher, even this shelter is insufficient, and nothing but a few herbs, with perennial roots actually under the earth, subsist. Nature has almost entirely banished from such places annual plants; where the whole summer is reduced to a few days, nay, sometimes, a few hours; where often a storm of wind, or dripping fog, will destroy the flowers which have scarcely blossomed, and, bringing back winter, terminate the year.

On the contrary, hardly any elevation seems to stop the progress of some perennials, which, on the approach of severe cold, shelter themselves under the double protection of the earth and snow, forming their buds underground, and springing up the first fine day of the succeeding year. Their duration exhausts the chances of all times and seasons, till, soouer or later, they also ripen seed, by which they are multiplied.

Thus the vegetable zone of our alps has in fact no other limits than those of the earth or soil covering them. The Pic du Midi, which I have Ascended 26 times, is 3278 yards above the level of the sea, but I never once found the thermometer there rise to the temperate point. Yet, on a nearly bare rock, I have there gathered as many as 48 species of vegetables, excluding cryptogamous plants: of these, one only, which perhaps I may never find again, was annual. At Nieuville, a place 273 yards higher than the Pie du Midi, where the thermometer in summer never rises to more than 8 degrees, M. Ramond asserts, that in five journeys, he has collected 12 different perennials. On the top of Mont Perdu, at an elevation of 3825 yards, even in the bosom of permanent snows, but on rocks the sloping situation of which had cleared them of snow, he has seca six different plants very vigorous. Here, in one of the hottest days of a summer remarkable for its heat, the thermometer only rose to

5.5° above the point of congelation, and it undoubtedly falls in winter to 25 or 30: nor is it certain, that those 6 plants, found in a season which melted more snow than usual, are regu larly uncovered every year. Besides, I have seen some of them on the borders of the perpetual snow, with only half of their stems exposed and vegetating, the other half buried in it, and it is probable, that many of them do not see the light ten times in a century, running through the whole course of their vegetation in a few short weeks, and doomed afterwards to sleep through a winter of many years.

Plants subjected to so singular a mode of existence are not among the species which grow in the plains of our temperate regions: they belong exclusively to such as grow on the summits of mountains, or near the poles, Norway, Lapland, and Greenland, furnish plants analogous to those of the Swiss Alps and Pyrenees; but few, or possibly none of them, are seen in Siberia, Kamschatka, or even in the polar regions of America. One would hardly have supposed so great a diversity of vegetable productions in countries so much alike and near each other, nor, on the other hand, so great a conformity as exists among the plants of these countries, and the plants of some al pine regions distant from them 40 degrees.

In fact, we learn from actual observation, that the dissemination of vegetables is not always regulated in parallel distances from the equator; that if a certain number of plants, confined by their constitution to a peculiar climate, are to be found to a certain distance under the same latitudes, many others, on the contrary, have been scattered over different countries in the direction of their meridians. Towards the south, America, Africa, and Asia; towards the north, Europe, Asia, and America, are far from producing the same vegetables under the same parallels; while many plants, growing wild in each of these grand divisions of the globe, brave every obstacle oppos ed to them by a diversity of climate, and propa gate themselves in a geographical direction quite contrary to that which a similar climate would confine them to.

Thus, for example, many of the curious plants of Sardinia, Sicily, and Italy, mount up the Swiss Alps, and then descend again into the lower parts of Germany, without being allured by our fine climate to France. Thus, likewise, the Pyrenees receive from Spain a great number of the plants of Barbary, scattering them over the western provinces of France. The merendera, which grows in the north of Africa, is found in Andalusia, Castile, Arragon; when crossing the Pyrenees it descends as far as the Landes de Bourdeaux, The narcissus bulbocodium, and hyacinthus sero tinus, grow wild in the same places, and follow the same route. The anthericum bicolorum of Algiers traverses the same chain of mountains, and arrives in Anjou. The scilla umbellata and crocus nudiflorus have migrated from the Pyrenees even into England. Yet not one of the above-mentioned vegetables have been disseminated laterally, to meet those southern ones which have crossed the Swiss Alps.

But it is in the great valleys of the Pyrenees, extending from north to south, that these vege table galaxies become most striking and singular, The dianthus superbus runs through the whole valley of Campan and Gavarnie, without ever entering any of the side ones. The verbascum myconi, that beautiful and scarce plant, which

does not belong either to the genus in which Linnéus has placed it, or perhaps to any natural order yet defined, and which has so exotic an appearance, that it distinguishes itself like the king-fisher, among our indigenous birds, invariably keeps to the same direction. Nothing is more abundant in all the great valleys of the Pyrenees, in every soil and exposition: yet the very same soil and exposition never attract it to any of the collateral ones. We could cite a multitude of similar examples, but it is sufficient at present to mention one more, the box tree. This shrub, so very robust, is affected by elevation like the most delicate ones. At the base of the Pyrenees, both on the French and Spanish side, it covers every hill: thence it enters the great valleys, running from the north-east towards the south, but never quits them; in vain do the numerous branches of these valleys offer it an asylum; passing their openings, it keeps to its first direction, stopping on the crest of the chain at about 2000 metres above the level of the sea, and appearing again on the other side at a similar elevation, and in a similar direction, from which it never deviates.

Thus it is, that in high mountainous countries we discover the strongest traces of the original design of nature; there, each order of vegetables is confined within narrower bounds; there, local influence more powerfully resists every other. Nevertheless, the lapse of ages, and especially the presence of man, has here introduced many modifications; for, in traversing the immense deserts of these high mountains, among the rare plants which form their herbage, some few of the conimonest here and there occur. If the verdure takes a deeper tint than usual, contrasted with the gayer colour of the alpine turf, the ruins of a hut, or a rock blackened by smoke, explain the mystery. Around these asylums of man, find naturalized the common mallow, nettle, chickweed, common dock. A shepherd had possibly sojourned here some weeks, and in driving his flocks hither had also attracted, without knowing it, the birds, the insects, the seeds of the plants of his lowland cot. He may possibly never return, but these wild spots have received in an instant the indelible impression of his footsteps; so much weight has a being of his importance in the scale of nature.

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In other places he has signalized his presence by destruction. Before he approached the mountains, the immense forests which covered their bases have fallen under his axe, for woods are not the abodes of man; he avoids the circuitous paths of so vast a labyrinth, suspecting danger under their shades; he there mourns the absent sun, an object which every day renovates his delight; and hence it is seldom that he penetrates a forest, without fire and sword in hand.

Accordingly the seeds of woodland plants become dormant in a soil now dried by the sun and wind, and no longer suitable to their germinating. Other vegetables take their places, the climate itself changing; for the temperature rises, the rains are less frequent, but more copious, the winds more inconstant and impetuous, deep gullies are formed in the sides of the acclivities by torrents, and rocks are deprived of the earth which covered them, and, at the same time, of the plants which ornamented them, by falls of immense loads of melting snow; thus the face of the globe, where man inhabits, is more changed in ene century, than in twenty where he is absent.

After all, in Alpine countries, the different soils, and their productions, retain most of their aboriginal character: there, the primitive distribution of vegetables has been least disturbed; their localities can be easily traced, the influence of the air is most perceptible; there, the contiguity of objects exhibiting more forcibly their similitudes and dissimilitudes, the eye of the ob server takes in, at one glance, every trait which is interesting; and if it be necessary for the geologist to visit these grand chains of mountains, to study the structure of the earth and those catastrophes which have imprinted its present form, it is still more so for the horticulturist, who wishes to penetrate the mysteries of the primary dissemination of vegetables and their subsequent propagation, hoping thence to derive hints for their successful cultivation and improvement, in the paradise surrounding his dwelling.

Are the variations we thus meet with, the adaptation of the plant to the climate, its selection of climate, and its change of appearance and power, the result of a vegetable instinct, or of mere mechanical forces? this is a question which has long excited and still continues to excite the attention of physiologists. Whichsoever be the ruling principle, it must equally operate in every part and discover itself in every organ. Let us then select a single organ as the subject of our enquiry, and follow it up from its development; and let that organ, though any other would answer as well, be the tendril. The tendril is the petiole of a plant without the leafy expansion, possessing a vascular structure of the same nature as that of herbaceous stems. The sap of the tendril not being wasted in the formation of leaves, the tendril itself necessarily grows longer than the petiole, and on this account is too slender and feeble to maintain a straight direction. Hence arises its twisted shape. It is conjectured by Wildenow, that the diminished force of the current of air has some influence upon their course: since plants that support themselves by tendrils, send out, when distant from a wall, tree, or shrub, all their tendrils towards that side on which the plant is to attach itself. This idea, however, is far from satisfactory, and by no means explains the direction of the curvatures of the tendrils of different plants. Other physiologists have consequently taken very high ground; and have affirmed that the motions of the tendrils of plants, and the efforts they apparently make to approach and attach themselves to contiguous objects, originate in some degree, not merely of instinct, but of sensation and perception; but this is a more dangerous hypothesis than the preceding, and altogether unsupported by fact or analogy.

Mr. Knight, sensible of the mischievous consequences to which such an opinion seems unavoidably to lead, contends, on the contrary, that all the movements and actions of the vegetable world are as much the result of the two antagonist powers of gravitation and a centrifugal force, as those of unorganised matter. We can, however, as little yield to this conception, as to either of the two preceding, believing that instinct exists wherever vitality of any kind exists: yet as the hypothesis is plausibly and ingeniously supported, and forms the latest that has been offered upon the subject, we shall present our readers with his own words, which are thus given in a letter to the president of the Royal Society of the date of 1812. "I was induced, during last summer, to