numerous grassy valleys, called Pamirs, of one to several miles in width, running generally east and west, and separated by ridges, which rise from the plateau to an additional height of 2000 to 5000 feet. From the direction of the ranges, as well as from the continuity of elevation, the plateau would seem to stand in close relation to the Himalayan system; but Captain Trotter rather adopts Fedtchenko's view, that the whole region is to be looked on as a continuation of the Tian Shan mountain-system, which also consists of a number of parallel ranges running east and west, and enclosing grassy plains resembling the Pamirs, but of greater extent, called Jilgas. The word, Dr. Stoliczka tells us, means a watercourse, and these plains may be considered as having once been the channels of a great water-system. They are generally open at one end; though where an obstruction has existed, there is an accumulation of salines, the deposit of a fiord of the ancient sea which has not been washed out. But, returning to the Pamir region, we find some exceptions to this east and west direction. The valley of the Little Pamir on the south of the district, with a length from west to east of some 70 miles, takes, towards its eastern end, a northerly turn, and extends in that direction as a wide strath,' containing the stream of the Aksu, which eventually turns westward and joins the Panja or Oxus, of which, indeed, it is the largest and, perhaps, most considerable branch. This northerly valley is bounded on the east by a range running north and south, which is the watershed between Eastern and Western Asia, and which is called by one of our native explorers the Pamir range. In a similar way the Taghdumbash Pamir, lying to the south of the Little Pamir, bends round, and is prolonged to the north in a series of plains parallel to the valley of the Aksu, and separated from it on the west by the aforesaid Pamir range. These plains, again, are, as Captain Trotter believes, bounded on the east by yet another chain, the peaks of which are visible from Kashgar, and which would form the western boundary of the great plain of Eastern Turkestan. This chain he considers to run in an almost uninterrupted line from the Muztagh range of the Himalaya on the south to the Tian Shan Mountains on the north, and he calls it by the name of the Kizil Art. But it should be remembered that Fedtchenko did not admit the existence of any continuous range in the position thus laid down, and his Kizil Art Mountains, which bound the Alai Steppe on the south,* separating it from the plains above-mentioned, run at a considerable angle to any such range.

*It must be remembered that Fedtchenko studied the question from the northern or Tian Shan side.

The

The Great Pamir,' so called, perhaps, from being almost the culminating terrace of the plateau, lies to the north of and parallel to the Little Pamir. It contains the Victoria Lake, discovered by Lieutenant Wood in 1838. Until the visit of the Mission, no European had been there since that simple-hearted and gallant sailor marched up from the westward, with the smallest possible official aid or countenance, and not, apparently, conscious that he was performing any particular feat; and yet during thirty-five years, so full of exploring activity, he has not had a single European follower. From this lake flows to the westward the northern branch of the Panja River, which is joined some distance lower down by the southern or Sarhadd branch, and taking soon after the name of Hamun, is recognised as the main stream of the Amu or Oxus. The Pamir, some six miles in width, is bounded on each side by low, undulating hills, backed by higher and precipitous ranges. About twelve miles east from the lake, at a height of 14,200 feet, is the watershed between Eastern and Western Asia. Like the stream which flows from the Little Pamir, the infant Amu, though starting in an opposite direction at first, also turns northward, and flows north probably during the remainder of its course through the Pamir region. The general declivity of the plateau is thus seen to be northwards, and the climate appears to improve sensibly in that direction.

The State of Wakhán, which comprises the Great and Little Pamirs, is now so poor that its resources as to food were severely taxed by the short stay of the Mission party, the small surplus produce of the country having been sold in the previous autumn. Iron, too, is so scarce that the party had to sacrifice their tent-pegs to provide shoes for their horses. The only timber grown is the white poplar, and that only in very sheltered situations. In the valleys, wherever there is water, the willow, birch, and giant juniper are found. But on the Pamirs no wood of any kind can grow, and the traveller depends for fuel, as throughout Tibet, on the invaluable burtsi, a prickly caryophyllaceous plant with large straggling roots. In Wakhán, in spite of the great altitude, some wheat (beardless) is grown, as well as barley, beans and peas. Melons and apricots also ripen in the valley. But northwards, i.e. further down the river, the country becomes much more productive. Fruit-trees are more abundant, as well as corn, and there are, besides, large flocks of sheep. The world-famous ruby-mines lie on a mountain-side in the valley of the Oxus, where it passes through the little State of Gháran. The stones are found imbedded in a soft, white matrix contained in the harder rock. But the mines

are

are nearly exhausted, only some thirty men being employed in them. The rubies when found are sent to the Amir of Kabul, an indirect proof, by the way, of his supremacy over these Upper Oxus States. No architectural or other traces were observed by the Mission of the prosperity which tradition records as existing in Buddhist and Zoroastrian times. But the numerous ruined villages bear testimony to ages of oppression. Indeed, the country is almost depopulated. All the nomad Kirghiz have now deserted Wakhán, and are settling, under the rule of Kashgar, in Sanju and other places on the northern slopes of the Himalayas.

Wakhán, in fact, contains now only some three thousand people, and but for the vates sacri of diplomacy might long have remained in the obscurity of the times preceding the arrangements with Russia, which suddenly drove so many wellinformed people to consult their atlases, without perhaps being much enlightened thereby. Wakhán is subject to Badakhshán, itself an Afghan dependency, and it was on this ground that we stipulated that it should remain free from Russian interference. But the same reasoning would apply to Shighnán, on the north of Wakhán, and to Roshán beyond that, for they are equally feudatories of Badakhshán. Of the northern limits of Roshán, however, we know little, except that it is not far from the outlying parts of Khokand, and thus already overshadowed by the last stride of the northern Colossus. The deficiencies in our knowledge are therefore likely to be soon supplied from that side. Delirant reges, gaudent geographi! Between these Afghan dependencies and the States under Russian influence, there lies at least one lofty range of mountains, and it may seem uncalled-for to stipulate against aggression in so remote and (apparently) so difficult a country as this. But besides that, not improbably, the easiest road into India may, after all, be discovered among the valleys between Wakhán and Peshawar, moderate men on both sides seem agreed that in the interests of peace it is expedient that there should be no interference of Russia with Afghanistan; and this once admitted, any such stipulation must include the tributaries of the latter power. Peace, however, would be in little danger if the direction of affairs were always in the hands of moderate men; but on recent occasions we have too often an aggressive movement precipitated by some young or irresponsible officer. It is not always possible to disown or retract a step thus taken, but we have remarked that such conduct invariably produces, not merely strong popular sympathy, but professional advancement. Still it would be unbecoming to discern, in perhaps an isolated action of a great country, a deliberate

seen

even

deliberate inconsistency with her professions. We are willing, therefore, to be convinced that the discrepancy between the explanations given at the time of the Khivan expedition, and her immediately subsequent reconnaissances along the northern frontier of Persia towards Merv, are due to the force of unforeseen circumstances to which the strongest Government must sometimes bow. The once famous city of Merv, though now in ruins, might be restored to a considerable degree of prosperity by the application of a little engineering science to the water-system of the district. Meanwhile the position is one of great importance, not only as commanding the roads leading from Kabul and Herat towards the north, but also from being within a few easy marches of Herat, a place of considerable strength, the centre of a rich and fertile district, and long and popularly known as the key of India.' The ostensible reason for this advance from the Caspian towards Merv is to control the Turkoman tribes whose country lies to the north of that line. As regards these Turkomans, it is usual to assume them to be hostes humani generis, whose extermination by Russia would be a service to humanity. To attempt a word in favour of such well-authenticated ruffians seems like imitating the large charity of the Scotch minister, who used to call on his people to pray for the puir de'il;' and yet we doubt whether too much has not been said as to their irreclaimable ferocity. Conolly, who spent some time among them, and was quite at their mercy, by no means gives them this character; and De Blocqueville, who was taken prisoner by them while accompanying a wretchedlymanaged Persian attack on Merv, seems to have been fairly treated; his picture of la vie Turcomane intime, with the game at chess of an evening, is almost idyllic. Indeed, apart from Mr. Vámbéry's account, the popular impression seems to have been chiefly derived from Persian accusations, which are founded exclusively on their slave-lifting propensities, with the inevitable accompanying horrors. But with Russia supreme in Khiva and Bokhara, this traffic is at an end. Many of the tribes depend, at least partly, on agriculture, and seem to have been driven by poverty to more equivocal courses to make both ends meet. In short, they are probably neither better nor worse than their neighbours within the Persian frontier, and captures for the purpose of ransom are freely made on either side. The severe chastisements (not to use stronger words) inflicted on the Turkomans by the Russians after the fall of Khiva, as described by Mr. McGahan, are very unpleasant reading. They seem to have been unprovoked, and of doubtful necessity. But even admitting the wisdom, from the Russian point of view,

of

of an occupation of Merv, the question arises whether the advantages of this step are not more than counterbalanced by the new element of danger introduced. This danger lies in the fact that Merv is so near the Afghan frontier, that a skirmish, however ' accidental,' might at any moment occur which would bring Russia and Kabul into collision, and thus at once precipitate the whole question between England and Russia, which the latter professes to be as anxious to avoid as we are. Even granting that the occupation of Merv implied no ulterior or unfriendly purpose towards England, the risk of a disturbance of friendly relations would be none the less, and a more effectual control over the Turkomans is hardly worth purchasing at such a cost as this.

The question is sometimes asked whether, after all, if Russia were in peaceful possession of Afghanistan, our position in India would be injuriously affected. We might reply by asking what, for instance, would be the effect if Russia were also to obtain a footing in the Persian Gulf? It is, of course, possible that no complications would arise; that we might find her an excellent neighbour, devoid of jealousy, ambition, or intrigue, and that we should wonder at all our past apprehensions. But such speculations, though interesting, are beyond the scope of practical politics. The question immediately before us is, What would be the effect on India of an invasion and gradual occupation by Russia of Afghanistan? And we do not hesitate to say, that the steady, unresisted advance of our great rival, distorted by a hundred rumours, would unsettle the imaginative Indian mind in a dangerous degree. The elements of disturbance latent among 200 millions of people must necessarily be numerous, and however devoid of cohesion in quiet times, the spark that would fuse them into formidable union might be kindled at any moment.

on

It is significant how the views of all responsible politicians the subject of Russian aggression seem converging towards a point of agreement. It is generally admitted that no interference with Afghanistan should pass unchallenged. The more passive school, fairly, and ably, represented by Mr. Grant Duff, though they refuse to see a menace even in the occupation of Merv, and would remain inactive, though observant, until Herat was attacked, would then declare war with Russia all over the world.' The more active school, on the other hand, would rather seek to avert this catastrophe by preventing the occupation of Merv. This they would effect by pushing forward a force to Quettah, which we have a right by treaty to do, and then representing that the occupation of Merv would make it necessary