FOOTNOTES:

Chess is a favorite game among the Hindoos, and it is one of the most ancient, alluded to even in their earliest productions, and quite common among all classes and grades of society. This game is peculiarly adapted to the Hindoo mind, in which quiet thought, perspicacity, and shrewdness are so strongly marked. Cards with the figures of their gods and goddesses are a source of great amusement; the women are much given to this indoor recreation. The Ashta-Kasti is a game played on a board of twenty-five squares with sixteen cowries or small shells. It is played by four persons, and is finished when one of the pieces, traversing the length and breadth of the board, enters first into the central square. Mohgali[50]Patan is a favorite game among the superior classes of Hindoo women. It is a representation of a battle between theMohgalsand Patans. The battle-field is accurately drawn; on one side is theMohgalarmy, and on the other the Patan. Hindoo ladies play it with great skill. Another military game, the Pàshà, played on ninety-six squares and with sixteen pieces, is played with great vigor and amid peals of laughter. The moves are regulated by the throws of dice. Amongthe outdoor sports are kite-flying, throwing the sling, bat-and-ball, croquet on horseback, wrestling, running, boating, boxing, and hunting. Itinerant jugglers are everywhere patronized.

Musical recreations are most popular of all, and not only from the temples and palaces, but from the humblest hut of the poorest peasant, sweet sounds everywhere greet the ear. When an instrument cannot be had the voice is substituted; men seated in clusters under trees by the wayside beguile the evening hours with song after song. The common bhistee at the water's edge, the farmer at the plough, the cart-driver, the boatman, the shepherd, the warrior, the spinner at her wheel, and the mother beside the cradle, all delight in song, giving great effect to tender or spiritual sentiments by the measured or animated tones of chant, psalm, or song as it may happen to be.

Instrumental, and even vocal music, though held among the fine arts, has not attained great eminence, yet no people are more susceptible to its peculiar charms than the Hindoos. The word "sang-gheeta," or symphony, implies not only the union of voices and instruments, but suitable action.

Musical treatises always combine "gána," the measure of poetry, "vadya," instrumental sound, and "uritya," dancing. The most remarkable of their musical compositions are The Ragar Navah, "The Sea of Passion;" Sabha-Vinodah, "The Delight of the Assemblies;" Sang-gheeta-Derpana, "The Mirror of Song;" Raga Nibhoda, "The Doctrine of Musical Modes." All these works explain more or less the laws of harmony, the division of musical sounds into scales, etc., enunciation, cadence, rising and falling variations, long and short accentuations, and rules for playing the vina and other musical instruments. The vina is the most common; it is not unlike a guitar,five or six feet long, with seven or more strings, and a large gourd at each end of the finger-board.

Music, like almost everything else in India, is thought to be of divine origin. The gamut is called swaragrama, and is uttered asSa,ri,ga,ma,pa,dha,ne. Little circles, ellipses, crescents, chains, curves, lines, straight, horizontal, or perpendicular, are employed as notes. The close of each strain is always marked by a flower, especially the rose and lotus.

The mode of dress of the Hindoo is both simple and suitable to the climate. The men wear a cloth called dhotee bound round the loins, with an upper vest, of cotton or silk according to the wealth of the wearer, over it. This angraka, or coat, is very graceful, generally of pure white, and descending to the ankles; it is bound around the waist by a colored shawl or scarf called cumberbund. A white muslin turban artistically wound around the head and sandals complete the attire. On festive occasions a gay handkerchief is thrown over the right shoulder, which adds very much to the picturesqueness of the dress.

The women wear a cloth, or saree, some yards in length, often edged with a rich and delicate embroidery of gold or silver, descending to the feet. They gather this into a point in front, and fasten it around their waists with or without belts, as the case may be. They then twist the rest most gracefully around the entire person, after which it is thrown over the head and made to serve both as a bonnet and a veil. It is very becoming, and, wrought over with delicate Oriental devices of fine texture, lends a peculiar charm to the most ordinary features. A bright silk boddice is worn under the saree, and the whole dress accords well with the sweet, modest grace and beauty which characterize the pure Hindoo woman.

They also wear a profusion of jewels, and ears, nose,arms, wrists, ankles, toes, and fingers are often bedecked with them. In some instances all their wealth is thus preserved. The hair, which is often very luxuriant, is combed back in the ordinary European style, and is tied in a knot behind. Rich women often fasten it with a band of gold bound around the entire head and very expensive ornamental gold pins. The Hindoo women possess in a far greater degree than Europeans an eye for color. The most ignorant of them have the peculiar art of selecting strong and brilliant contrasts in color, and so disposing them on their persons as to make a perfect harmony.

There is a marked difference between the moral and social character of the Hindoo and the Mohammedan women of India. The Hindoo woman does not occupy that position in society which she is so eminently fitted to grace, and which is accorded to women in Europe and America; but she is by no means as degraded as is so frequently represented by travellers, who are apt to mistake the common street-women with whom they are brought into contact for the wife and mother of an ordinary Hindoo home. It is difficult for a stranger to find out what an Indian woman is at home, though he may have encountered many a bedizened female in the streets which he takes for her.

The influence of the Hindoo woman is seen and felt all through the history of India, and is very marked in the annals of British rule. Though the political changes, the invasion, and despotism of Mohammedan rule may have forced upon them the seclusion now so general, it is evident that they once occupied a very different position in society, from the testimony of their earliest writers and the dramatic representations of domestic life and manners still extant.

One of the most startling facts is, that among the Asiatic rulers of India who have heroically resisted foreign invasion the women of Hindostan have distinguished themselves almost as much as the men. Lakshmi Baiee, the queen of Jahnsee, held the entire British army in check for the space of twenty-four hours by her wonderful generalship, and she would probably have come off victorious if she had not been shot down by the enemy. After the battle Sir Hugh Rose, the English commander, declared that the bestmanon the enemy's side was the brave queen Lakshmi Baiee. Another courageous and noble woman, Aus Khoor, was placed by the British government on the throne of Pattiala, an utterly disorganized and revolted state in the Panjaub. In less than one year she had by her wise and effective administration changed the whole condition of the country, subjugated the rebellious cities and villages, increased the revenues, and established order, security, and peace everywhere. Alleah Baiee, the Mahratta queen of Malwah, devoted herself for the space of twenty years with unremitting assiduity to the happiness and welfare of her people, so that Hindoos, Buddhists, Jains, Parsees, and Mohammedans united in blessing her beneficent rule; and of so rare a modesty was this woman that she ordered a book which extolled her virtues to be destroyed, saying, "Could I have been so infamous as to neglect the welfare and happiness of my subjects?"

In the historical notices of the rule of Hindóstanee women nothing is more conspicuous than their fine, intuitive sense of honor and justice. Clive, Hastings, Wellesley, and other governors-general of India, have all acknowledged their high appreciation of the character of the Hindoo women they have known, declaring that in many instances, under the administration of Ranees andBegums, India has been more prosperous and better governed than under the rule of the native rajahs.

The present ruler of Bhopal is a lady of high moral and intellectual attainments; both she and her mother, who preceded her as head of the state, have displayed the highest capacity for administration. Both have been appointed knights of the Star of India by the empress of India, Queen Victoria, and their territory is the best governed native state in India.

Very recently the queen of England created her Asiatic sisters, the queens of Oude and Pattiala, knights of the Star of India in appreciation of their wise and beneficent rule over their respective kingdoms.

During the dreadful ravages of the French and English, or the Carnatic War, the Hindoo women administered to the wounded and suffering European soldiers of both nations with equal tenderness and impartiality, causing one of the English generals to report to head-quarters, "But for the Indian women, who better understand the qualities of love and tenderness than we Europeans, I should have left half of my wounded soldiers to die on the battle-field. They washed the toiling feet of the poor tired soldiers, stanched their flowing wounds, and bore them in their united arms from the strife of the battle-field to the quiet and shelter of their own little huts."

In that interesting narrative of occurrences at Benares during the latter days of the month of June, 1857, furnished by a soldier of the Seventy-eighth Highlanders, are several incidents characteristic of the devotion and self-abnegation of the Hindoo women. This regiment or company of soldiers, in its work of retaliation upon the Indian mutineers, often set fire to whole villages in order to punish the rebel sepoys sheltered by them. On one of these occasions a humane Highlander, after having rescuedseveral persons from the fire, rushed into the flames to save a young woman seated calmly by a dying man, whose lips she was wetting with some siste[51]while the fire was raging around her. No inducement of self-preservation could prevail with her to quit his side till they were both carried out.

Tenderness and self-devotion, as I said before, are the chief characteristics of the pure Hindoo woman. Her love for her offspring amounts to a passion, and she is rarely known to speak hastily, much less to strike or ill use her child. Her devotion as a wife has no parallel in the history of the world. Marriage is a sacred, indissoluble bond, which even death itself cannot destroy, and the patient, much-enduring women of India took the terrible yoke of sutteeism upon them in becoming wives as calmly as the young English or American girl puts on her bridal veil, and have gone to the funeral pile for centuries without a murmur.

In the purer and more ancient period of Indian civilization it was not customary to force a widow upon the funeral pyre of her husband. But the fearful prospects of Hindoo widowhood, which made her future existence appear to her a long, wearisome, and distasteful series of sad duties, made her gladly choose death rather than life. Besides which, she died honored and happy, having by her death redeemed her husband from a thousand years of penance. By degrees, this fearful practice, fostered by the priests and poets of India, became a sacred tradition carefully handed down from mother to daughter, and at last came to be regarded as a sublime sacrifice on the marriage altar. The practice of sutteeism has been virtually abolished by the British government on British-Indiansoil, but to this day women will perform painful journeys to places still governed by native princes in order to burn themselves alive.

In 1834, while Dr. Burnes was residing at Cutch, a very remarkable case of sutteeism took place in that province. The only wife of Bhooj-Rhai, a wealthy and intimate friend of the rao or king, had, during her husband's illness, declared her intention of performing suttee at his death. When the time arrived the rao, at the instance of the British resident, expostulated with her, but all in vain. Protection was also offered her in the name of the British government, but her determination remained firm and unshaken. On the morning appointed for the burning of Bhooj-Rhai's body a funeral pyre was erected immediately in front of Rao Lakka's tomb. A spot was enclosed with a circle of bamboos, the tops of which were bound together in the form of a beehive, covered with dried grass and thorns; the entrance was a small aperture on the left side. Crowds of gayly-dressed people flocked to the spot. The moment the victim, a remarkably handsome woman about thirty, and most superbly dressed, appeared, accompanied by the Brahman priests, her relatives, and the dead body of her husband, the people greeted her with loud exclamations of praise and delight, poured forth benedictions on her head for her constancy and virtue, and showered flowers on her path as she was borne along; women pressed to touch the hem of her garments, hoping thereby to be absolved from all sin and preserved from all evil influences.

Dr. Burnes addressed the woman, desiring to know whether the act she was about to perform was voluntary or enforced by the priests, and offered her again, on the part of the British government, a guarantee for the protection of her life and property. Her answer was calmlyheroic, and she could not be dissuaded from her purpose: "I die of my own free will," said she; "give me back my husband and I will consent to live." Seeing that nothing could move her from her resolution, Dr. Burnes despatched a message to the rao requesting his interference. He returned answer that it was beyond his power to arrest the ceremony. Everything was done, but in vain, to save the life of this infatuated woman, and at length the ceremony began. Accompanied by the officiating Brahmans, the widow walked seven times round the pyre, repeating the usual mantras or prayers, strewing rice and cowries (small shells) on the ground, sprinkling holy water over her friends and relatives and on the bystanders. She then removed her jewels and presented them to her nearest relations with a glad smile. The Brahman priest then presented her with a lighted torch; taking it from his hand, she stepped through the fatal entrance and calmly seated herself within the pile. The body of her husband, wrapped in richkinkaub(gold cloth), was then carried seven times round the pile, and finally laid across her knees. The door was left unclosed, in the hope that the deluded woman might yet repent and escape. Not a sigh, not a whisper, broke the death-like silence of the crowd. The intrepid woman held up her torch and ignited the pile. Presently a slight smoke, curling from the summit of the pyre, gave notice that the fiery ordeal had begun; then came a tongue of flame darting with lightning rapidity toward the clear blue sky, announcing that the sacrifice was completed, though not a sound betrayed that a living victim was within holding a dead corpse in her arms. So far as courage and silent, resolute determination went, she was more immovable than the dead clay she held in her last fiery embrace. At the sight of the ascending crackling flames wild shouts of exultation rent the air, thedrums beat, the people clapped their hands in delighted applause, while the English spectators of the scene withdrew, bearing deep compassion in their hearts.

After the fiery consummation had taken place, on the ground where the sadhwee, or "pure one," had expired three chatties, or earthen vessels, full of consecrated balls of rice, were placed as offerings to the gods.

The Bombay government notified the rao at once that the repetition of such inhuman atrocities would not again be overlooked.[52]This had no doubt some effect on His Highness, but nevertheless some time after this sacrifice the beautiful mother of the rao suddenly fell ill and died, and one of her female attendants voluntarily buried herself alive near her mistress, in order that she should be in readiness to attend her in a future state.

It is very difficult for the Western mind to comprehend this utter self-abnegation on the part of Hindoos, and it can only be accounted for by their deep faith in the universal metamorphosis of life and the unreality of form.Maya[53]is illusion, the evanescent dream of life, which is only a "sleep between a sleep," the constant flow of form into form, of thought into thought, of life into other life. Even Brahm does not recognize himself in the second person: "I know when I am I, but who am I when I am thou?" It renders individuality illusive, intangible, and uncertain, so that to the Hindoos life and possession assume a meaning entirely different from that with which we are disposed to regard them. It is true that life loses half its charms, but death is robbed of its terrors. Life is valued only in so far as they are prepared to lay it aside, or rather to change it for some other form; for life anddeath are but the perpetual ebb and flow, the advance or retrograde, of soul toward "the Soul." Under this ardent faith, that everything above, below, beyond, God himself, is illusion, change, metamorphosis, is hidden the secret that helps them to endure suffering not only without a murmur, but with joy, and to count death itself a positive gain in the presence of the eternal, immutable, and solid fact of life to be found at last in the final reunion of the human with the divine life. This faith so potent, so absorbing, so far reaching, has stamped a character hereditary and almost ineffaceable on the Hindoo mind.

To-day Brahmanism is so expansive in character that it takes in every form and peculiarity of religious sentiment. The more earnest and spiritual have grand and magnificent theories of God that supply ample food for the imagination; the tender have laws that reach down almost to vegetable life; the ignorant and vulgar have attractive festivals and endless ceremonials suited to engage their attention; the vicious and degraded have the loves and frivolities of the gods and heroes, whose lives encourage pursuit of sensual gratifications; the devotee who abandons all that is sensual for spiritual insight has text upon text and example upon example, taken from the Puranas[54]and from the actual lives of saints, to support him in the effort of finding God at last. The self-sacrificing only quits an illusion for a reality, and the idolater who bows down before wood and stone believes that he sees before him only the form of a divine life hidden everywhere in matter. Thus highest religious thought and life and lowest sensual indulgence meet together in the theology of the Brahmans.

FOOTNOTES:[45]A new school of the Brahmanic order—"Brahmo-Somaj," meaning an assembly in the name of God. This Church has connected itself with every progressive movement in India. The originator of this social and religious movement was Rajah Rammahun Roy, a very learned man. In 1818 he published, for the benefit of his own countrymen, selections from the teachings of Jesus, taken from the Gospels, in Sanskrit and Bengali, calling the book "The Precepts of Jesus, the Guide to Peace and Happiness." He died and was buried in England in 1833. Rammahun Roy built a church in Calcutta, where the Brahmo-Somaj still hold their worship. The members belonging to this new school of religious thought are estimated at ten thousand. The women have a separate prayer-meeting from the men. Their form of worship is very simple—singing of hymns adapted from the Vèdas or from the Brahmanasu, or Brahman Aspirations, the Christian Bible, and extempore prayer, followed by an exhortation on morality and purity of thought and character. The late Mr. Keshub Chunder Sen was everywhere recognized as their chief leader.[46]"Rama, Rama, the god Rama, bless you!"[47]The value of a rupee is about forty-five American cents.[48]Their names vary with the language. I have heard them called "Khoo mattees" in parts of Guzerat; also "Dhayahtees" in the Deccan, and Bhaladhya in parts of Western India, from Sanskrit "bala," youth, and "dhya," tenderness.[49]Ocymum or sweet basil. This plant has a very dark-blue flower, and hence, like the large bluish-black bees of India, is held sacred to Krishna and his amours. A fable, however, is told in the Purânas concerning the metamorphosis of the nymph Toolasi (by Krishna) into the shrub which has since borne her name, because he could not return her love.[50]This word is generally pronouncedMohgulby the natives of India.[51]A peculiar little seed from which a cooling drink is prepared. A preparation of rice and water, when cooled, is often called "siste."[52]SeeCutch, chapter vi., by Mr. Postans, 1839.[53]The illusion or unreality of all created things, according to Brahman mystics.[54]The "Puranas," or Hindoo Antiquities, are by no means as ancient as they are named. They are eighteen volumes in all, but consisting of no less than one million six hundred thousand sacred lines treating of creation, mythology, tradition, and legend.

[45]A new school of the Brahmanic order—"Brahmo-Somaj," meaning an assembly in the name of God. This Church has connected itself with every progressive movement in India. The originator of this social and religious movement was Rajah Rammahun Roy, a very learned man. In 1818 he published, for the benefit of his own countrymen, selections from the teachings of Jesus, taken from the Gospels, in Sanskrit and Bengali, calling the book "The Precepts of Jesus, the Guide to Peace and Happiness." He died and was buried in England in 1833. Rammahun Roy built a church in Calcutta, where the Brahmo-Somaj still hold their worship. The members belonging to this new school of religious thought are estimated at ten thousand. The women have a separate prayer-meeting from the men. Their form of worship is very simple—singing of hymns adapted from the Vèdas or from the Brahmanasu, or Brahman Aspirations, the Christian Bible, and extempore prayer, followed by an exhortation on morality and purity of thought and character. The late Mr. Keshub Chunder Sen was everywhere recognized as their chief leader.

[46]"Rama, Rama, the god Rama, bless you!"

[47]The value of a rupee is about forty-five American cents.

[48]Their names vary with the language. I have heard them called "Khoo mattees" in parts of Guzerat; also "Dhayahtees" in the Deccan, and Bhaladhya in parts of Western India, from Sanskrit "bala," youth, and "dhya," tenderness.

[49]Ocymum or sweet basil. This plant has a very dark-blue flower, and hence, like the large bluish-black bees of India, is held sacred to Krishna and his amours. A fable, however, is told in the Purânas concerning the metamorphosis of the nymph Toolasi (by Krishna) into the shrub which has since borne her name, because he could not return her love.

[50]This word is generally pronouncedMohgulby the natives of India.

[51]A peculiar little seed from which a cooling drink is prepared. A preparation of rice and water, when cooled, is often called "siste."

[52]SeeCutch, chapter vi., by Mr. Postans, 1839.

[53]The illusion or unreality of all created things, according to Brahman mystics.

[54]The "Puranas," or Hindoo Antiquities, are by no means as ancient as they are named. They are eighteen volumes in all, but consisting of no less than one million six hundred thousand sacred lines treating of creation, mythology, tradition, and legend.

From Bombay to Poonah, the capital of the Maha Rashtra, or the great Indian kings.—Campooly.—The Ascent of the Bhor Ghauts.[55]—Khandala.—Caves of Carlee or Karli.—"Puja Chakra," or the famous Wheel-worship of the Brahmans.—Poonah.—Kirki.—A Visit to the Peishwa's Palace.—Temple of Parvati.—The Pundit and the Brahman Priest at Prayer.—Sanskrit and English Colleges at Poonah.—Suttee Monuments at Sangam.—Hindoo Bankers, etc.

From the island of the ancient goddess Bamba Dèvi to Poonah, the capital of the great Indian kings, one passes through the most extravagant contrasts of sights and scenes to be found anywhere in the wide world—gorgeous temples of gods and squallid dwellings of men; fertile plains and arid wastes; towering hills crowned with ancient forts and temples, now lonely or deserted; deep cave-structures in the hearts of isolated mountains, where still lie written in stone the romantic culture of a long-past age.

Our dâhk, which was simply a native carriage furnished with horses instead of bullocks, trotted briskly along the magnificent "Lion Causeway." Passing rapidly the eastern side of the island of Salsette to Thannah, and crossing the great viaduct and round the promontory of Parsek, we turned to the south, and emerged on a striking plain whose attractiveness increased at every mile of the road until we began the descent of the Bhor Ghauts on the other side.

Bullock Cart

Bullock Cart.

In some parts our road lay over a great green floor soft as velvet, intersected with innumerable river-like channels, made in the lowlands by the ever-encroaching sea. Palm trees fringed these salt-water streams, dotted with hundreds of the fanciful sails of fishing-smacks, bunder-boats, and brightly painted canoes, all moving to and fro swiftly and silently under the shadows of the hills, which rise in fantastic broken forms on one side. There is no sound far or near to break the spell; the silent, forest-clad Ghauts and the whole sea-begirt valley lie asleep in that enchanted atmosphere.

At sunset we reached the village of Campooly, at the foot of the Ghauts—a mean, dirty, and terribly unhealthy spot, situated immediately under the lofty barrier-wall of rock called the Bhor Ghauts, which props up the great table-land of the Deccan[56]—an immense plateau, with large rivers, innumerable hills covered with forts, magnificent towns, cities, villages, and many millions of inhabitants.

This enormous mountain-chain of the Deccan, the first of the steps that rise one above the other till they terminate in the great plateau of Thibet, the highest land of the Himâlayas, starts up almost perpendicularly from the Konkan, or lowlands, and is securely fastened together by huge buttresses of primeval granite, naked and frightful to look upon in some places, and again singularly beautiful in others. A railroad and a tunnel have since been built across this once almost inaccessible barrier, and is said to be "a noble piece of engineering," for the Ghauts extend over thirteen degrees of latitude and rise in some parts to a height of five thousand five hundred feet above the level of the sea.

There was a fine bungalow, built by Bala Roa Angria for the accommodation of European travellers, atCampooly, where we passed the first hours of the night to await some palanquins with their bearers that had already started up the Ghauts. This bungalow is only occupied by chance wayfarers. Here we took up our abode, and only a tribe of monkeys showed the least inclination to prevent our doing so. There were sixteen in all; they were evidently enjoying themselves running in and out of the half-deserted building. A number on the roof were throwing down into the verandah the peculiar nutlike fruit of the large and graceful peepul trees that overshadowed the house. Some were peeping in at the doors and windows, and some were swinging themselves from the rafters. The moment we appeared they showed regular fight, screamed, chattered, and no doubt swore at us hard and fast in monkey fashion; but, what seemed to me most curious, there was not a man in our service who would perform the unkind office of dispersing them from the bungalow. We had to send for our driver, who, being a Musulman, had no scruples of early ancestry or primitive divinities. He took off his cumberbund, or scarf, twisted it into a whip with a knot at the end, and despatched the bulk of the tribe back into the forest whence they had come. Only one great black-bearded male monkey remained on the roof in spite of the brandished rag; when we were at supper this huge creature suddenly suspended himself downward by the tail, looked in upon us, and, opening his hideous jaws, uttered some fierce imprecations, which, as our pundit would say, "were perfectly intelligible, but not translatable," and, having done this, he vanished, and we saw nothing more of him for that evening.

There is here a Hindoo temple, and a fine reservoir which occupies a quarter of a mile of ground. This reservoir and the adjoining temple, dedicated to Maha Dèo, were built by that most subtle of Mahratta ministers, thefamous Nana Furnaveez, whose real name was Balaji Jahnardhan. It is exceedingly well built; the sides are lined and the banks paved with fine stone; steps lead everywhere to the edge of the water; a magnificent banyan tree overshadows the artificial lake, and near it flourishes a fine grove of mango trees.

On the opposite side of us men, women, and children were bathing, swimming and disporting themselves in the water. Some of the young women were symmetry itself, with exquisitely-proportioned, slender forms, delicate hands and feet, finely-poised heads and necks. Their long hair streamed behind them in the water as they swam merrily about. Others were just stepping out of the tank arrayed in their graceful but dripping sarees, which they allow to dry on their persons while they proceed to fill their water-jars, and, piling them one above the other on their heads, depart to their respective homes. These women seemed very innocent and child-like, and a closer acquaintance with several high-bred and true Hindoos proved that these were their distinguishing characteristics.

At three o'clock next morning we began the ascent of the Ghauts in palanquins, or, as they are commonly called, palkees, with coolies to transport our baggage and provisions. About sunrise we reached a very remarkable point in these mountains, a deep and frightful-looking chasm. We alighted from our palkees and went over this part of the Ghauts on foot. At length we were directed as near as we dared to approach the spot where the mountain was split in two.[57]Not a sound was heard anywhere. As we stood there the shadows of the crags brightened everymoment, now shimmered along the sides, and shed flickering shafts of light far down upon the midnight darkness below. It was a glorious picture—the depth below and the height above, on whose summits the plumes of the palm trees waved their branches to the rising sun.

The atmosphere was remarkably clear, and this helped us to see a great distance with the naked eye. On one side gently-falling slopes gave place to abrupt precipices and innumerable peaks, and on the other far below were smiling plains, each more beautiful than the other in form and color, affording now and then most magical glimpses of green fields dotted with great reservoirs that looked like silvery spots, and cozy little Hindoo villages nestling amid charming groves and palm-plantations.

As the story goes, the duke of Wellington, then a simple colonel, cast all his guns into one of these reservoirs when he found no means of conveying them any farther, lest they should fall into the hands of the enemy, as he marched over the same road to Poonah and there quelled the famous Mahratta rebellion of 1802.

Now on foot and now in palkees we at length ascended these Ghauts, sweeping round and round, now ascending, now descending, passing by dreadful precipices, drawing breath under quaint natural bowers, following winding paths, and coming suddenly upon foaming cascades leaping from rock to rock. So we went from beauty to ever-increasing beauty, till we reached the village of Khandala, on the very top of the mountain, near which a travellers' bungalow stands with open arms—or verandahs—to receive us. And here was opened to us the full enchantments of the fairyland through which we had been passing upward. All of a sudden from this high peak we beheld a most beautiful and varied picture—sharp peaks of every form and shape and size, tremendousravines, towering mountains, leaping waterfalls, sloping hillsides, and waving palms and mountain-forests, clearly outlined against a deep-blue sky, and over all these varied forms of nature the sunlight floats and melts, a sea of gold. No artist, however gifted, no pencil, however matchless, can catch and transfer to canvas the entrancing beauties of the views as seen from the top of the Bohr Ghauts and at such a moment.

This lovely spot has for more than twenty years been the favorite retreat of the wealthy and change-seeking inhabitants of Bombay, and now that the railway is opened it is much more easily reached.

The ravines in this neighborhood harbor many wild beasts, and it is said that at night tigers, leopards, and bears are often seen prowling about in search of prey. The natives raise wild shouts when they think they hear or see them, and thus frighten them away.

The travellers' bungalow at Khandala is most picturesquely situated on the edge of a deep ravine. On the right is a small lake or reservoir adjoining the residence of the late Parsee knight, Sir Jamsetjee Jeeboy. To the east is a magnificent hill, called the Duke's Nose, from its supposed likeness to that of Wellington. From this point there are splendid views. The pretty little mountain-village of Khandala is close by, and as we pass on to Karli we skirt the beautiful woods of Lanauli,[58]so often quoted in Mahratta song, once the hunting-grounds of the rulers of the Deccan, and still abounding in wild boars and other game.

We spent four days at the bungalow here, and, what was more, saw every sun that rose and set on these mountains. Each day was a counterpart of the preceding one, clear and bright. We traversed some miles of thesurrounding country to visit hill-forts, caves, and viharas, which abound in this neighborhood.

Our next halting-place was at the village of Karli, a cluster of Hindoo houses hid amidst a fine grove of trees. There was a nice bungalow here, and even barracks to hold about two hundred men.

The most famous cave is that of Karli. It far surpassed those we had visited on the islands of Salsette and Elephanta, and took us very much by surprise. The caves are on a hill about two miles or more from the travellers' bungalow. We entered seemingly into the heart of the mountain, and found ourselves in the body of the temple or cave, which is separated from the side-aisles by fifteen columns of magnificent design and workmanship; on each side, on the upper part of each of these columns, are two kneeling elephants, and on each elephant are two seated human figures, sometimes a male and female, with their arms around each other's shoulders sometimes the figures are both female. The effect is remarkably striking. Thechaitya[59]is plain and very solid, and behind it are seven plain octagonal pillars without any ornamentation. The interior of the temple seems to have been lined with woodwork. Right in front of the arched roof or hall is a second screen, as at the great cave at Salsette. It is composed of plain octagonal columns with pilasters. Over these is a mass of wall crowned with a superstructure of four dwarf pillars; the whole of this appears to have been covered with wooden ornaments.[60]These are thought to have been a broad balcony in front of the plain wall, supported by two bold wooden bracketsfrom the two piers. This balcony is thought to have served the purpose of a music-gallery or nagara khánah, as are still found in the Jain temples to-day. Everything here is executed in the finest style; the bas-reliefs, the windows, the doors, the halls, roofs, vestibules, and figures are each, one and all, beautifully executed. The colossal figure of the Buddha perched on a lotos throne, with angels hovering around him, his hands folded in everlasting repose resting on his knees, is grand and imposing. On the walls are carved many a beautiful flower, some not unlike those we passed in our morning's ride, with strange characters and symbol after symbol replete with the wisdom of the Buddhists. Rows of half-nude gigantic women, elephants, lions, birds, and beasts relate in solid stone the triumphs of Buddhism over Brahmanism. Dr. Stevenson dates the building of this temple at seventy years before Christ; executed, according to him, by the emperor Devabhute, under the care of Xenocrates or Dhennuka-Kati. There has been, however, much doubt thrown by recent explorers on the dates given by Dr. Stevenson. The inscriptions under the gateway are thought to place beyond dispute the dates of these scattered excavations, so similar in point of architecture, at the second century before Christ and not long after the great Buddhist dispersion from North-western Hindostan by the Brahmans.

A number of queer-looking Brahman priests of the Sivite[61]sect, who take care of these caves and encourage pilgrims to them, came out to see us, and, finding our pundit to be a countryman, though he was not of their sect, invited us to witness their worship in a vihara adjoining.

It was difficult to believe that the quiet, dark, handsome men who spoke to us could be such dupes as they seemedwhile at worship. In the largest of the caves was a huge, rude machine very like a common wheel, in the centre of which was a round place for a fire, and another and smaller fireplace on each of the seven spokes of the wheel. To the wheel was attached a long pole, and to this pole was tied a large-eyed, patient-looking Brahmanee cow with bells around her neck. To the cord which fastened these bells was tied a long rope, and this rope was held by a Yoghee, a sort of mystic Brahman priest, who had nothing on but a wisp of straw around his loins, and a half-starved-looking dog at his heels.

The moment the sun sank behind the mountains a white-robed priest issued from one of the smaller caves and placed a little earthen lamp, containing a long wick and some cocoanut oil, in each one of the receptacles for the fires. This done, the deafening sounds of multitudinous drums were heard from the secret recesses of the intermediate caves. At this, away went the Yoghee, the dog, the cow, and the wheel, with the seven tiny lamps revolving around the larger one in the centre. This furious dance continued, the dog barking, the cow lowing, and the drums beating, for an hour, and then another Yoghee stepped forward and relieved the first one. There were twelve priests, or rather ascetics, for the twelve hours of the night, and this was the celebrated "puja chakra," or wheel-worship, of the ancient Brahmans.

We could not wait, of course, to see the end of this strange, wild, deafening performance. I nearly fainted from the oppressive heat and disagreeable odors of the cave, and was obliged to seek relief in the open air. Here we found the Yoghee who had begun the dance seated on a stone clothed in a long dusky mantle and evidently enjoying the evening breeze. He answered me in pure Hindostanee, and told me that the central fire orlamp represented the Surya, or the Sun, the smaller ones the seven planets, naming each one—Soma, the Moon; Mangala, Mars; Buddh, Mercury; Virhaspati, Jupiter; Sukra, Venus; Sani, Saturn; Deva Bheemi, the Earth. The cow stood for Providence, or, as he termed it, the All-giver; he himself for mankind; while the dog was the emblem of the human family; his dance was in honor of the solar system.

A look of supreme satisfaction overspread his face as he informed me that the deep spiritual meaning which was conveyed to his heart was not in the wheel or in the fires, but in himself as he thought of the efficacy of the daily sacrifice which he offered to the gods, which convinced me that he at least firmly believed that the return of the sun-god to his place in the heavens every morning was due to his efforts and that of his brethren in performing from one end of the year to the other this self-imposed mystic night-dance in honor of the solar system.

The moon had risen as we put our little tattoos'[62]faces Khandala-ward and trotted away from the Karli village and the Hindoo ascetics. We had a very amusing half-broken and half-rattling talk with our pundit, who insisted that there was nothing more holy in the way of worship than the "puja chakra," which we had just seen. When my husband irreverently inquired, "If the wheel-worship was not a gentle hint to the sun to be up and about his business every morning," our good guide and teacher became suddenly grave and silent, and not another word would he say to us on the subject of this curious worship.

Next day we climbed a hill to see the old fort of Lok-garha, which was twice captured from the Mahrattas by the East India Company's generals. It occupies acommanding position, and we enjoyed the view from it. This grand old Mahratta fortress is full of historical interest. It was here that the beautiful and astute widow of Nana Furnaveez, the most famous of the Mahratta ministers, took refuge, and the killadhar, or commander of the fort, obtained for her from General Wellesley not only a guarantee of safety, but an annual pension of twelve thousand rupees. On our return ride we passed through a wild but beautiful part of the hills. We saw and heard the stately pea-fowl that are found in this neighborhood; they added very much to the wild, luxuriant beauty of the woods.

On the following morning we bade adieu to the beautiful Bohr Ghauts. There was a great deal more of loveliness to be seen for many a mile until we reached the slope of the mountains, which is gradual rather than abrupt, as it is on the opposite side, and after that it was of no consequence at all where we looked. We were riding down a bleak, rugged, desolate country, slightly inclined; this was that immense triangular plateau between the Ghaut districts on the east and west and the great Vindhiya chain on the north. As we approached Poonah we found the views more interesting—fields of wheat, maize, orchards of fruit trees, plantain-groves, and the peepul, tamarind, and palm waving above them all. When we reached the bridge that spans the Moota River, it was near sunset. A flood of light poured from the sky over hill and dale and valley, gilding with unusual brilliancy the venerable roofs of Parbuttee and the half-ruined turretted walls of the Peishwa's palace.

Poonah, with the adjoining military station at Kirkee, where the scenery, owing to the junction of the Moota and Moola Rivers, is very picturesque, has a very respectable English population. But the majority of the nativesare almost exclusively Brahmans of the Deccan and Hindoos from various parts of Hindostan.

This spot is famous in Mahratta annals. In 1599 Poonah and Supah were made over to Mahlaji Bhonsli, grandfather of the renowned Sivaji, by the government of the Nizam. In 1750 it was made the capital of the Maharashtra empire under Balaji Baji Rao. It was once more seized and destroyed by the Nizam's forces, by Alih Shah, who had established the Mohgul empire at Haiderabâd in the Deccan. And here again another battle took place in 1802, when Jeshwant Rao Holkar defeated the combined armies of the Peishwa and Scindhia.

With our usual good-fortune we procured a house at Kirkee to stay in during our visit to this neighborhood. It was the residence of a moolah, a Mohammedan bishop, and must have been built many years ago. It is a beautiful spot. A British cavalry regiment is stationed here, and here was fought the battle in which the English gained one of their most remarkable Indian victories over the last Peishwa.

The native city is divided into seven quarters and dedicated to the seven high angels or planets after whom the days of the week are named.

The streets of the city of Poonah are more picturesque and far more Oriental than even those of Bombay. The principal street is long, wide, and furnished with sidewalks, with shops of all sizes and all kinds of merchandise, having open fronts, and the goods are exposed on inclined platforms. The lanes and thoroughfares are thronged with people of all nationalities—the sedate and white-robed Brahman; the handsome Hindoo; the refined and delicate-looking Hindoo woman in her flowing graceful saree and pretty red sandals (for in this city Mohammedan influence has not yet reached the point which ithas in other parts of India, and the women are not cooped up in harems, but are met everywhere in the streets, temples, and bazaars); the pompously-dressed Musulman, Arab, and Mahratta horsemen completely armed, prancing along on their splendid chargers; Mahratta foot-soldiers with their lordly swagger, equipped with sword and shield and buckler; emaciated devotees, fakeers, and mendicants of all denominations, some wholly nude, others clothed in the skins of wild beasts, and yet others covered with dust and paint and ashes of cow-ordure; fat, lazy-looking Brahmanee bulls; Jews, Parsees, native Portuguese Christians, and occasionally a British Mahratta sepoy in his neat undress uniform. This moving picture, so strange and incongruous, had the additional fascination of state elephants; splendid cavalcades of the Peishwa's troops decked out in brilliant colors and accompanied by richly-caparisoned led horses; camels trotting along at a quick pace to the sound of merry little tinkling bells suspended from their necks; fighting rams, kept for combats, one of the favorite Mahratta pastimes, parading the streets in long rows, now leaping and butting at dreamy Brahmanee cows. Add to all this that almost every day in the week there are crowded markets, religious processions, passing funerals with gayly-dressed corpses seated on the biers, looking ghastly enough on this dancing bubbling current of human life, and some idea may be formed of the sights and scenes to be met with in the capital of the Mahratta empire.

At my first arrival at Poonah I remember seeing some Hindoo children at play in the square. They were playing at marbles in all respects like the English game, save that the boys had nothing in the world on but a sacred cord round their shoulders and some gold and silver ornaments. New-born infants could not have been moreunconscious than they were. The boy who won, a lad about eight or nine, seemed the least elated of the party. The one who lost had a better time; he clapped the winner on the back and cheered him all the way across the square, crying, "Khoop! khoop!" ("Fine! fine!"). There were thirty or more nude little fellows watching the play with intense interest, and evidently having the most enjoyment out of it, to judge from the wild shouts of applause with which they hailed the victor, screaming at the very top of their lungs, "Marliah! marliah!" ("Beaten! beaten!"). How many English or American boys would behave so well?

It would be simply impossible to enumerate all the places of historical interest to be found here. The hillsides are everywhere crowned with forts and religious and military strongholds, where many a battle has been fought and won, and many a treaty formed only to be broken, both by the servants of the East India Company and the contending Mahratta and Mohgul forces, on this debatable land of the Hindoos, Mohguls, and English conquerors.

There are Bambura, or Bampoora, whence in former times an enormous gun, the Mahratta curfew, boomed sunset warnings to honest men to betake themselves home; and Dapooree, where Colonel Ford, C. B., built a palatial residence, and raised and commanded a brigade of magnificent Mahratta troops after the European fashion for the service of the Peishwa Baji Rao.

At Chinchore, near by, a boy is still worshipped as God by the credulous natives. The originator of this curious deception was one Marâbo, who is said to have restored sight to a blind girl, and who effected a like miraculous cure for the great Sivaji.[63]In order to prove his divinity,this Marâbo caused himself to be buried alive in a sitting posture with a holy book in his hands. His son succeeded him as God. For several miracles performed by the latter, especially the feat of transforming a piece of cow's flesh into roses, the emperor of Delhi, Alamghir, presented to this man-god Narayana eight villages in perpetuity.

Then there is another curious old fort, Chakhan,[64]with its ramparts and parapets constructed, according to Hindoo story, by an Abyssian chief named Palighar,A. D.1295. In 1818 it was captured by the troops of the East India Company. And last, but not least, there is the famous Sing-garh, "the lion's den," a vast triangular-shaped fortress, where the brave Mahwalee soldiers, headed by the braver Tanaji Mahisreh, Sivaji's general, fought against the Rajpoots. The latter lost his life after he had captured from the Rajpoots this stronghold of the Mahrattas, causing Sivaji to exclaim, "The den is taken, but the lion, alas! is slain."

This fortress was finally captured by the English during the Mahratta and English war. The ascent is made by palanquins. Splendid trees and many a wild flower crown the hillsides, creeping over gate and tower and moat, spreading beauty and gladness where once was heard the perpetual war-cry of deadly combatants.

We visited the Peishwa's palace. Our syce, or groom, looked like a bedizened prince as he led the way with his gay turban and brilliant sash. We kept close to his horse's heels, and the pundit, whose long white robe gave him the appearance of a lady on horseback, brought up the rear.

The palace, temples, and pavilions of the late Peishwaall cluster about a most beautiful hill called Parbuttee, a corruption of the Sanskrit word Pharvati, "Sacred Mountain." A magnificent garden called "Hira Bâgh" ("the gem or diamond garden"), and a fine reservoir with an old pavilion on its bank, are some of the features of this sacred spot. The palace is in no way worthy of notice, and is fast crumbling away, but it is approached by a magnificent staircase of stone steps cut out of the mountain, and so gradual that we rode up it on horseback. The hill is covered with temples. The view is very fine; seen over the lake with its pretty little tree-covered islands and wide fields studded with palm- and mango-plantations, it was one vast beautiful picture.

Our syce pointed out to us the spot where a young Mahratta prince dashed himself headlong from his pavilion because he was publicly reprimanded for some breach of etiquette by his prime minister, Nana Furnaveez.

There was much to interest us, however, in the temples, that are still kept in good repair, filled with the monstrous idols of the Hindoos; and here are held great annual festivals in their honor. Over two hundred Brahman priests worship here, and are supported by the voluntary contributions made to their shrines.

We went into the temple of Parvati. Our pundit led the way, accompanied by a singularly interesting Mahratta Brahman priest, but I noticed that the sectarian marks on his forehead and those on the pundit's were very different. The former wore the marks of Siva, two straight lines crossed, and the pundit those of Maha Dèo, two concentric circles with a straight line. Before our eyes had become accustomed to "the dim religious light" of this temple, the power of which the Hindoos so well understand, I looked and saw right in front of me, andimmediately at the foot of the altar, the prostrate figure of the pundit, and the Brahman priest beside him, their arms and hands stretched out, their faces hidden on the pavement, their limbs stiff and rigid, and their long white robes clinging to their persons.

Within full sight and hearing of the beauty of Christianity, with all the wonders and marvels of scientific discoveries taught hard by in the public native school and in the Sanskrit college, here were these men, neither of whom lacked intellectual training, bowing down to idols of wood and stone. Surely, the more earnest and spiritual of these lowly worshippers see something of the truth, beauty, and goodness of God, denied to less ardent natures, and only discernible with closed eyes and in moments of deep, silent emotion.

There is a massive silver statue of Siva seated on the altar, holding on his knees his wife Parvati and their son Ganesa. These smaller idols, it is said, are of pure gold; a princely fortune in precious gems adorns their headdresses, their necks, and gleams out of their eyes. There were dusky arches and dingy, time-stained columns and all kinds of figures on the walls, and over them all a smoky atmosphere and an odor of incense mingled with that of burnt-offerings.

We went out almost faster than we had gone in. Pundit and his guru, or spiritual guide, were still going through some genuflexions. A Brahman is a Brahman indeed, but are Christians always the followers of Jesus? We sat down on the steps of the temple, and by and by the pundit came out with his spiritual guide, looking calm and serene.

We visited the English school for the natives in the Budhwar[65]portion of the city, also the Sanskrit college,and saw there hundreds of handsome, eager-looking students, and we were assured that it produced men of very great learning, who could hold their own in Sanskrit, Mahratta, Hindostanee, and English even, with some of the greatest scholars in England, France, or Germany.

A spot is shown at Sangam, not far from where we took up our abode, where the devoted Hindoo widows formerly underwent cremation with the dead bodies of their husbands. These monuments can only be seen when the water at Sangam (the spot where the Moola and Moota Rivers meet) is at its lowest ebb. They consist of flat stones or slabs laid in the river-bed, with two female feet engraved on each of them. Even in this, the most hideous and barbaric of Hindoo customs, is found lingering a beautiful and tender sentiment. The feet engraved on the slabs prove the willingness with which these unknown women followed their loved ones through the ordeal of a fiery death into the world beyond, and the meeting of the two rivers typifies the final reunion of their souls.

We visited a banker's office in the native city of Poonah. This bank, in which large sums are deposited and extensive business transacted, was nothing but a mud house plastered over within and without. The counter was an inclined platform reaching from the front to nearly the whole length of the building; on it squatted, cross-legged, surrounded with bags of all kinds of money, a Mahratta banker with his handsome countenance and keen piercing black eyes, talking to his customers, discounting bills, and counting money with astonishing rapidity and ease.

The bank where our pundit obtained his "hoondee," or money-order, was managed, in the absence of his father,by a young Hindoo boy who could not have been over twelve years of age. This youthful cashier astonished us with his accuracy and quickness in counting and discounting money. His only account-book, as far as I could see, was a flat board covered with fine white sand. On this primitive slate he made all his calculations, writing them down with his forefinger. When he had finished he blew away the sand and handed over the amount due to pundit, with interest for odd days, etc., all calculated with the nicest accuracy down to the smallest fraction. We wondered very much to see these banking establishments left in the charge of such young lads, who sit there demurely—and, what is more strange, securely—until late at night, often amid heaps of gold, silver, and other coin left temptingly in full view; but one rarely hears of any attempt to rob them.

The bankers' checks are written on a thick country-made paper; every check has a secret mark or sign that renders forgery difficult. It is rolled up and fastened with gum-water, and thus laks[66]upon laks of rupees are circulated with ease and safety throughout the country.

The European portion of the city of Poonah stands on a fine open plain. There are here wide fields, handsome barracks for the European soldiers, bungalows for their commanding officers, a hospital, a lunatic asylum, a pretty little church with reading-room and library adjoining. In fact, there is everything here to render the European comfortable and happy, except the temper of the people, who still cling to the recollections of old times, when Poonah was the capital of their own great kings and warriors, filled with all the pomp and parade of Oriental splendor.

The late Sir Jamsetjee Jeeboy has erected a fine residencehere; near it is a simple and unpretending Fire-temple for the benefit of the Parsees in this vicinity.

The last of the many bright hours spent here we drove about the native town and enjoyed Poonah at night. Every house, fort, temple, palace, and hut was illuminated, those of the poor by a dim light, those of the temples and palaces by innumerable tiny flames that flickered and gleamed in thousands of colors on the marbles and frescoes of the walls, floors, and verandahs. It seemed like passing through some fairy scene filled with the thousand and one pictures of the Arabian Nights.

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