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even a matter of choice, but of imperious duty and necessity. That there are some few faults is certain ; indeed, in a task of such length, this was almost unavoidable; and our chief wonder ought to be, that there are so few: of the propriety of correcting these, however, there cannot be, I think, a doubt ;—the more beautiful the edifice, the more requisite that it should be free from faults. Yet still it is an office that demands the utmost delicacy and skill. As for an entire new translation, this is by no means necessary; the end desired may be obtained without this. I would not, however, have any presumptuous hand permitted to exert his critical acumen, at merely his own discretion, on so beautiful a fabric; nor indeed ought so important a charge to be confined to any single individual, even though that one were possessed of all the mighty learning of a Bentley or a Johnson. It would perhaps be best that a committee of the most learned and religious men were instituted, like the one which first performed the task of translating. The duty of these should be to revise carefully the present editions, to compare them attentively with the original, to take into consideration all that has been already written on the subject, to invite the farther discussions of the literary world, to examine whatever might be submitted to them; and, as the result of all this, to make such emendations as the text requires, rendering, however, at the same time, the most full and satisfactory reasons
to the public for every correction they proposed to make. In so highly important a duty nothing should be done lightly. Some may say,
“ the present version is sufficiently correct,—there may be a few faults, but these are of no consequence; our fathers have been contented with this, and why should not we be so ? To this, I reply, that had such reasoning always prevailed, we should not at this day have been Christians, or being Christians, we should not have been Protestants. No—nothing is done while any thing remains to do ; however trifling the errors, yet as errors they
) call for correction; and indeed in a work of such importance no errors can be trifling ;-we should stop at nothing short of perfection, when every letter is connected with, and may involve our highest, our dearest interests.
But that these errors are not quite so venial as may be imagined, the following is a proof.
. In St. John's Gospel (chap. ii. v. 4.) our Saviour is made to say to his mother,—“Woman, what have I to do with thee?”. This speech, to me at least, always sounded most gratingly. I would not, I am sure, have used such expressions to my own parent, and I could in no way reconcile the appearance that it has of undutifulness. All to whom I have ever mentioned the subject, have confessed a similar feeling; it is, therefore, of the greatest consequence that an explanation should be given; for to entertain even a shadow of doubt of the
Messiah's perfect immaculateness, is a sin of the first magnitude. I did, however, entertain none; knowing he could do or say no wrong, I passed the sentence over, as I believe almost every other reader does, under the supposition that it contained some mystical sense, which, though above vulgar comprehension, yet rendered it perfectly innocent. But, still, this was rather a slovenly mode, and, in truth, I regretted to be obliged to appeal solely to my faith in this one instance, when in every other it was seconded by my reason and feelings. I often reflected on the passage, and at each time with increased wonder that it should be ever requisite to resort to mysticism fully to believe in his perfect excellence and purity. It at length occured to me to examine the original ; and I there was at once relieved from these unpleasant feelings; and had the pleasure of finding, what I ought never to have doubted, that the Messiah's every word and deed is not only in reality the most perfect, but also ever strictly so in appearance. The original stands thus : Aéyɛı avrñ, ο Ιησούς. Τι έμοι καί σοι, γύναι και ο'υπω ήκει η ώρα μου. ó , ;
. The translation is perfectly correct in rendering yúvai “ woman,” but this address has by no means that harshness in Greek which it has in English, and, indeed, “ Madam" approaches nearest to the sense in which it is used. But the chief pointtí čuoi kai ool, which is translated—“ what have I to do with thee?” is à most false version of the passage; it means simply and only—“ what is that to thee and me?” Thus our Saviour merely says, that there being no wine at the feast, is no concern of theirs; and then immediately adds,—“ my time is not yet come;" which, that Mary understood as a promise, without any harshness in it, is clear, by her instantly turning to the servants, and bidding them carefully obey his orders. I do think that errors like the above ought to be rectified; and I could point out several lesser,--but not now, for I have already, I fear, taken up too much of your time, Mr. Editor, with a very dry discourse ;and thank you and my other readers, therefore, for the patience exercised.
ACCOUNT OF AGRA AND DELHI, &c.
SIR,- The following account of Agra and Delhi, extracted from the papers of a friend, will perhaps be acceptable to some of your readers.
“I will now detail a few remarks which may be useful for the information and guidance of those who may be induced to make Agra the object of their research, and may operate as an incitement to those, whose curiosity may not have been sufficiently excited by the general declaration of admiring travellers who have visited the Taj Mah’l, or to such as may have doubtingly withheld due credence from the assertions of public fame in praise of the surpassing charms of this model of perfection, of which no drawing or description can possibly convey an adequate idea to the mind.
I will begin by acquainting the traveller that when I visited Agra, I was previously under the necessity of obtaining a perwannah from the Nawaub to pass the Jumna, and a letter from the resident with Scindiah to the Dewan at Agra, intimating the purport of my visit. I pass over several intermediate stages of my journey, and arrive at Omeidpoor, about eighty coss from Cawnpore, and fifty from Futtehpoor.
A mile west of this village, and in the centre of a tank, about 300 yards square, stands, a large building, consisting of a single room, with a
, verandah all round, and a corresponding room above, crowned by a dome. There are some trees round the building. It is a pleasant place to spend a day in, and affords good accommodation for a traveller and his suite. A good bridge leads to the building, and the tank is full of water. From this edifice the splendid domes of the Taj rise in full view, at the distance of twelve miles, appearing like snow-white clouds ascending to the skies.
This place was constructed about 300 years ago by a Patan chief, named Ahmed Khan, whose mausoleum stands on an eminence near the tank. The base of his tomb is a single piece of yellow