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entirely lost to all civilization as the American Indians. But what they have in common seems to be merely owing to the fact that all the principal causes producing uniformity among different races are in full operation among them. Their climate, food, external circumstances are the same; by the necessities of climate and soil, they are limited to the pursuits of the chase or the fishery; besides which, they have all, during the last two centuries, lived under the protection of the same government, and been engaged in commercial intercourse with the Russians all these causes must have operated to assimilate them to each other. Yet withal, the varieties by which they are distinguished from each other are much greater than their points of resemblance. Their languages, bodily frames, and manners, present the most extraordinary contrasts, so that to trace them to any common stock appears impossible. (In Southern Siberia, and all over Central Asia, it is far otherwise; there we may easily trace all the tribes to one or other of the three primitive stocks of Mongol, Tartar, and Mantshur.) History of their own they have none, throughout all Northern Siberia. Their proper names, as well as their origin, and the events of their early history, are irrecoverably buried in the night of oblivion. As far back as history reaches, they have all been the prey of more powerful nations, and their latest history is to be found only in the annals of their conquerors. When they were driven from their ancestral seats in a more genial clime and a more fertile soil-whether by the Tartars, or by the Mongols, or by the Huns, or even before them must remain unknown. That they came from the south, there can be no doubt. Previous to the Russian conquest of Siberia, the tide of population had almost uninterruptedly flowed from the south to the north. This current of migration could hardly ever have ebbed to the south; for if any northern tribe had attempted to return, it would have had to encounter the hordes of Central Asia, far more populous and accustomed to warfare than themselves.

Instead of attempting to classify the inhabitants of Northern Siberia ethnographically, or into collateral tribes, according to their supposed affinity, (which would require not only a sufficient acquaintance with all their languages for determining their analogy, but also the intrusion of disputable theories and spe

culations,) we shall take the simpler and more certain course of describing them, in the first place, according to their geographical position, taking occasion to mention their ethnographic characteristics, and, in the second place, according to their occupations and mode of life.

In a geographical classification of these nations, we cannot do better than take the boundary fixed by the Russian government between Western and Eastern Siberia-the boundary line being the central river Yenissey. The western nations of North Siberia are included in the government of Tobolsk, and the eastern nations in the government of Irkoutsk.

The principal nations on the western side of the Yenissey are the Voguls, the Ostyaks, and the Samoyeds, beside which there are many petty races which scarcely merit specification.

The Voguls are found on both the European and Asiatic sides of the Uralian mountains. In Asia they nomadise in the territory which lies between the Ural and the river Oby, from the 60th to the 65th degrees of north_latitude. They seem to be an offshoot from the Fumish stock to which the Laplanders belong. Their resemblance in body, character, language, and manners to the Finns is easily discernible; a flat face, with sunk cheeks, dark grey eyes, a thin beard, tawny or auburn hair, and a sallow complexion, are the characteristics of their physiognomy. They are of a small stature, but a strong make, and are very free from physical ailments. Like most of the inhabitants of these plains, they are subject to a distemper of the eyes, which seems to be caused partly by the dazzling reflection of the snow, and partly by the smoke which fills their huts. They are great eaters, and excessively fond of inflammatory liquors. They came under the Russian sovereignty some time before any of the other nations, and were at that time so brave and warlike, that the Russians found considerable difficulty in reducing them to obedience. But their spirit has been utterly crushed, and now they are known by Russians as an honest and peculiarly inoffensive people. Taken collectively, they form a numerous nation. According to their own accounts, they have always been where they now reside. They now subsist partly by hunting, but chiefly by fishing, and live in wooden huts similar to those of the Ostyaks. Many of them are baptized.

The Ostyaks are scattered over the

extensive territory which lies between the rivers Oby and Yenissey, and to the south of the Arctic Circle. It appears that, on the conquest of Siberia by the Tartars, a century before the Russian conquest, the appellation of Ushtyek, which, in the Tartar language, signifies a barbarian, was indiscriminately and contemptuously applied to all the inhabitants of this immense country, of which they knew little or nothing. The designation, somewhat Russified, continues to be applied to the inhabitants, though now they are proved to consist of three very distinct people, and are distinguished by the Russians as the Ostyaks of the Oby, the Ostyaks of the Narym, and the Ostyaks of the Yenissey. The first of these are evidently related to the Voguls by bodily structure, national character, language, and manner, and are, probably, like them, of Finnist extraction. They consist of many tribes, each governed by a chief of its own, elected by universal suffrage. Some of these tribes, that live lower down the Oby, are reindeer nomades, but most of them are Icthophagi. The Ostyaks of the Narym and the Yenissey have no relation of any kind to those of the Oby, but appear to be far more nearly related to some of the Samoyeds in physical structure and appearance; but their languages, which are different from each other, are also different from all others known in Siberia; and before the Russian invasion they were in a state of hostility with the Samoyeds, and assisted the Russians in subduing them. The following tradition is preserved among them:"Once, as our horde journeyed from the setting to the rising sun, it was found on coming to the river Tas (Yenissey) that but four of each sex remained alive. These, too, must have perished of hunger, but one was an inspired soothsayer; on a sudden wings appeared on his shoulders, he rose up into the air, then dived into the Tas, and emerged thence with his body hung round with fish; henceforward they all became fishermen." Homer thought that fishing was the last resort of hunger, but Ostyaks ascribe it to a divine origin. They are of a very pale and dark complexion, and are subject to scorbutic complaints, probably on account of living exclusively on fish. They are never detected in crime, and are proverbially honest, kind-hearted, affectionate among themselves, and exceedingly hospitable to strangers. Many of them are baptized. Their dwellings are mere cubic

boxes, about thirty feet square, made of stout logs laid one upon another, and caulked with moss or hemp; the roof is flat, and covered with a layer of earth, and earthern mounds are heaped up towards the side walls. It is entered by an opening which is always turned to the south, and is about half the height of a man. Opposite the entrance a brisk fire is kept up all day on a raised hearth of clay, which occupies about four feet, and nearly reaches the wooden wall of the hut, which is protected from the flames by a layer of clay and brick. From the back of the hearth a cylindrical flue rises perpendicularly to the roof, where it expands immediately over the fire. This hearth is surrounded by stools about a foot high, on which they sit enjoying the effects of the flame. A small window in the right wall, in which the glass is substituted by a piece of ice, which, thawing on the inside, becomes smooth as a mirror, gives just enough light for distinguishing objects. The furniture of the house at once proclaims whether the tenants are engaged in the chase or the fishery. Another hut close by, raised eight or ten feet from the ground, and supported by four strong pillars at the corners, secures their food from the dogs.

The Samoyed nation must be understood to include many and various races, the designation being applied by the Russians to all who inhabit the coasts of the Frozen Ocean and live within the Arctic Circle, in Europe as well as in Asia, from the shores of the White Sea in the west almost to the banks of the Lena in the east. The part of the Asiatic continent immediately to the east of the Yenissey, where they swarm, extends in the form of a cape or peninsula to a degree of latitude beyond seventy-five. Samoyed is a Russian word, which signifies "selfeaters," or cannibals, because they were once said to be Anthropophagi. That there might have been solitary cases of some of them having devoured the flesh of their enemies, we are not in a position or anxious to deny, though we have never seen or heard of the slightest evidence of a single case. But we are sure that it would be quite as incorrect hence to call them cannibals as it would be to give the same appellation to the French people, because, in the midst of Paris, scenes of this kind have transpired which would disgrace the most ferocious savages. Stories of cannibalism are related by one people of another, to inspire terror and

hatred, and to fix an indelible stain on their character. The Spaniards, in this way, succeeded in rendering the bold and warlike Caribees odious to all civilized nations, and, in consequence, condemning the whole nation to slavery. The Samoyeds, about the embouchure of the Oby, call themselves Ychossvo, and we should like to see the common denomination exchanged for it. They seem to stand in no relation to any other Siberian nations, approaching nearer to the Esquimaux and Greenlanders, though far more ferocious and warlike, perhaps because they are more exposed to the attacks of more powerful neighbours. A Samoyed is taller and looks much healthier than an Ostyak; his head is thick and smooth; the lower part of his visage is prominent; the mouth and ears large, the lips thin, but the cheeks full, and of a blooming complexion; and the whole countenance is animated by a pair of little, black, long-slit eyes. His tawny skin shines with grease or bristles with straggling hair. The females are more slender, and their maturity comes and fades very early. The manner of a Samoyed is very composed and grave; he seems never to talk or act without serious deliberation, and his gravity never deserts him in intercourse or merriment, and presents a perfect contrast with the lively gaiety of his next neighbour, the Tonguse. The Samoyeds are all reindeer nomades, and dwell in tents, which are conical in form, and portable; long poles in an inclined position are fastened together with thongs at the upper end, while the lower ends, about a foot apart from each other, are fixed on the ground in the shape of a circle; this framework is covered with reindeer skins, sewed together for the purpose, and doubled, so as to have the hair both inside and outside. An opening is left at the point of the cone for the smoke to escape; and at the point where the borders of the skin covering meet the poles stand more widely apart, and by lifting the corner of the skin they creep into the tent. A fire is kindled in the centre, and over it two horizontal sticks fixed to the poles of the tent support a kettle; rush matting and reindeer skins are laid on the snow round the fire, where they sit or sleep in perfect content and good humour. The reindeer, which is here perfectly white and spotless, supplies them also with clothing and food; and they eat the flesh in a raw state, whether fresh or frozen. They also talk of a lost

paradise, but they place it still further northwards. Strange traditions exist among them of giants and griffons, which a modern author thinks may be the prototype of the Greek story of the griffons and gold-seeking Arimasps, and supposes it probable that Aristeas of Proconesus spent his seven years of travel among them. They are divided into tribes, and governed by chiefs, and are remarkably free from crimes as well as diseases. Leading a nomadic life in bleak and barren deserts, without the arts of writing and chronology, they endeavour to save from oblivion the memory of their transactions and heroes only by songs, which may have some truth for their foundation, but are embellished by many fabulous additions. Their trackless wilds, however, have never yet been trod by the foot of an inquisitive traveller; while the Russian collectors of tribute and merchants only meet them at the fairs of Beresov on the Oby, and of Turnhausk on the Yenissey. Collectively, they are far more numerous than the Ostyaks; but their dispersed condition renders it impossible to ascertain their exact number.

Among the nations comprised under the general head of western, are a great number of other small races, which, for the sake of convenience, are usually classed either with the Samoyeds or the Ostyaks, such as the Roibals on the Yenissey, the Tubinzes, the Karmashes, the Yurakes, the Tehapogoes, the Rharajapes, and other still more inconsiderable remnants of nations. T. E. S.

THE SEXTON BEETLE. THE Sexton beetle is about an inch in length; it is of a black colour, and so fetid that the hands smell for hours after handling it; and if it crawl on woollen clothes which are not washed, the smell continues for several days. The sexton beetle lays its eggs in the bodies of putrifying dead animals, which, when practicable, it buries in the ground. In Russia, where the poor people are buried but a few inches below the surface of the ground, the sexton beetles avail themselves of the bodies for this purpose, and the graves are pierced with their holes in every direction; at evening, hundreds of these beetles may be seen in the churchyards, either buzzing over recent graves or emerging from them. The sexton beetle in this country seldom finds so convenient a provision for him, and he is

OLD HUMPHREY ON NEW YEAR'S-DAY.

WHILE putting my pen to paper, the thought occurs to me that no inconsiderable number of periodical writers may be occupied with the same subject as that which now engages my attention. How I should like a peep at my brother scribblers of all grades and shades; some skyscraping in poetry, some knitting their brows in prose, some exultingly confident in their powers, and others despondingly dubious of their success. And then their different forms, features, expressions, and dress; with the different apartments in which they are plying their pens. What pictures do they present to my fancy! Well; though I cannot see them, I can give them my blessing. No worse wish than this have I for them in my heart, that their wit and their wisdom may be devoted to benevolent, to high, and to holy ends; and that themselves and others may be benefited by their productions.

Though New Year's-day is "as old as Adam," and though hundreds have written upon it for hundreds of years, yet every one who takes it for a subject is expected to make his remarks as fresh as new-sprung daisies. The difficulty, however, of doing this is more owing to a want of the proper state of mind than it is to the subject. When the harp is well toned, and the hand talented, you may calculate on sweet music, whether the air played be a new or an old one; and when the head of one, having at all the mastery of his pen, is well-informed, his fancy lively, and his heart rightly affectioned, give him what subject you may, and he will hardly fail to afford you satisfaction.

Writers on New Year's-day set the subject in all lights, and treat it in all manner of ways. Some commence with a serious and searching inquiry into the errors of the old year just departed. Some begin with the merry peal of bells that ring in the new year, dwelling joyously on the light-hearted hilarity of the day. Some enter on an account of the months, beginning, of course, with January, that takes its name, say they, from Janus, a Roman idol, which had two faces, one looking backwards and the other forwards. Some describe the different festivals, and manners and customs of days gone by, while others, in love with the natural creation, depict the

appearance of the animal and vegetable world at the beginning of the year.

It is not my intention to follow any of these courses in my comments, though I would just tarry a moment or two in adverting to the old custom of giving presents to royalty on New Year's-day. We have a saying intimating that adding to plenty is like "carrying coals to Newcastle;' and surely it was adding to where there was already abundance, when the loyal subjects of queen Elizabeth presented her on New Year's-day with rich gowns and petticoats, silk stockings and doublets, mantles embroidered with precious stones, bracelets, jewels, and money; even "Smyth, the dustman," giving her majesty "two bolts of cambrick." There are who would say that queen Elizabeth was very condescending, while others would assert that she was somewhat selfish. Not willing to become umpire in this case, I will be content with making the remark, that the customs of those days were different to our own.

Honest old Latimer must have been a

bold man, in martyr-burning times, to have run such a risk as he did in sending on New Year's-day, to such a wilfulminded king as Henry VIII., a present of a New Testament, with the leaf turned down to a sharp, rebuking text. This would be but an indifferent substitute for the customary purse of money that was, no doubt, expected at his hands. Oh, that we could all have given to us on New Year's-day, hearts that loved God more, for then we should be sure to love one another more, and try more to make each other happy.

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I have been thinking how I could make my paper on New Year's-day of the most use to my readers, and after no small amount of planning and contriving, have arrived at the following conclusion. We sometimes hear people say, "If I had my life to come over again, I would act in a different manner.' Now, I mean regard New Year's-day as the birthday of a new life. Let us, then, on New Year'sday begin a new life, with all the advantage of the experience of the old one. I know that my words of themselves will be weak, but I know also that He, whence cometh all power, can take of weakness and make it strength. He can urge and guide the arrow sped by a feeble hand unerringly and irresistibly to the heart.

Reader, however young you may be, you are not so young as you have been. You have lived long enough to learn a