FOOTNOTES:

FOOTNOTES:[77]Pur Sawanath and Mah-vira, the twenty-third and twenty-fourth pontiffs of the present era of the Jains, seem to have superseded all the former saints in sanctity of character. They are described by the Jains as having thirty-six superhuman attributes of mind and body—beauty of form, fragrance of breath; curling hair, which does not increase in length or decrease in quantity, the same qualities being attached to their beards and nails; a white complexion, exemption from all impurities, hunger, decay, bodily infirmity or disease of any kind. The spiritual attributes are those of justice, truth, faith, love, benevolence, freedom from all anger and all earthly desires, immense power of devotion; hence of working miracles, of making themselves heard at vast distances, speaking intelligibly to men, animals, and gods, of materializing spirits and conversing with them, and the power of scattering war, plague, famine, storms, death, sickness, or evil of any kind by their immediate presence. The heads of these Jain saints are always described as surrounded with a halo of light, whose brightness is greater and more far-reaching than that of the sun. The Brahmans, it is said, with great adroitness, in order to draw to these temples the Jain pilgrims from Guzerat, Bombay, and other parts of India, take care to represent their god Parshurama, an incarnation of Vishnu, to be none other than the Jain saint, Pur Sawanath.[78]Those who desire to have a detailed account of these caves will find an admirable description of them given by Col. Sykes in the third volume of theBombay Asiatic Society's Transactions.[79]A most popular Hindoo festival held all over Hindostan in honor of Krishna.[80]A genus of leguminous trees and shrubs, usually with thorns and pinnate leaves, and of an airy and elegant appearance. It is found in all the tropical parts of both the Old World and the New, and also in Australia and Polynesia. A few species only are found in temperate climates.[81]Small pieces of meat seasoned and roasted on a skewer.[82]A white flower very much like a double jessamine, with much the same fragrance.[83]A veil that covers the whole person.[84]A patemar is a coasting vessel, built generally in Bombay. It has prow and stern alike, double planked—a handsome craft of about two hundred tons burden, with two masts and great wide lateen sails.

[77]Pur Sawanath and Mah-vira, the twenty-third and twenty-fourth pontiffs of the present era of the Jains, seem to have superseded all the former saints in sanctity of character. They are described by the Jains as having thirty-six superhuman attributes of mind and body—beauty of form, fragrance of breath; curling hair, which does not increase in length or decrease in quantity, the same qualities being attached to their beards and nails; a white complexion, exemption from all impurities, hunger, decay, bodily infirmity or disease of any kind. The spiritual attributes are those of justice, truth, faith, love, benevolence, freedom from all anger and all earthly desires, immense power of devotion; hence of working miracles, of making themselves heard at vast distances, speaking intelligibly to men, animals, and gods, of materializing spirits and conversing with them, and the power of scattering war, plague, famine, storms, death, sickness, or evil of any kind by their immediate presence. The heads of these Jain saints are always described as surrounded with a halo of light, whose brightness is greater and more far-reaching than that of the sun. The Brahmans, it is said, with great adroitness, in order to draw to these temples the Jain pilgrims from Guzerat, Bombay, and other parts of India, take care to represent their god Parshurama, an incarnation of Vishnu, to be none other than the Jain saint, Pur Sawanath.

[78]Those who desire to have a detailed account of these caves will find an admirable description of them given by Col. Sykes in the third volume of theBombay Asiatic Society's Transactions.

[79]A most popular Hindoo festival held all over Hindostan in honor of Krishna.

[80]A genus of leguminous trees and shrubs, usually with thorns and pinnate leaves, and of an airy and elegant appearance. It is found in all the tropical parts of both the Old World and the New, and also in Australia and Polynesia. A few species only are found in temperate climates.

[81]Small pieces of meat seasoned and roasted on a skewer.

[82]A white flower very much like a double jessamine, with much the same fragrance.

[83]A veil that covers the whole person.

[84]A patemar is a coasting vessel, built generally in Bombay. It has prow and stern alike, double planked—a handsome craft of about two hundred tons burden, with two masts and great wide lateen sails.

The Taptee River.—Surat and its Environs.—The Borahs and Kholees of Guzerat.—Baroda, the Capital of the Guicowars.—Fakeers, or Relic-Carriers, of Baroda.—Cambay.—Mount Aboo.—Jain Temples on Mount Aboo, etc.

The views along the Western Ghauts and the coast are very grand. We soon lost sight of all their varied beauty, and in a couple of days entered the splendid river Taptee, which flows broad and deep immediately under the walls of the city of Surat.

Almost at the mouth of the Taptee stands a lovely little island; opposite to this is a little town called Domus, a quaint, homelike-looking place, where Europeans spend the hot months. The river flows for miles through a richly-cultivated suburb of gardens, plantations, and beautiful houses, till it reaches the city, which is walled with bastions at certain points, but the walls and towers are fast crumbling away. At one extremity stands the famous old castle of Surat, about three hundred years old, looking older and more stained with time and age than even the fortress of Damaun.

Surat has a double wall and twice twelve gates, inner and outer, communicating with one another. But its history is even more varied and complicated than its "world-protecting" walls and wooden-leaved gates. It is written in the ruins found everywhere in the gardens, palaces of the nawabs, rajahs, and peishwas, as well as in the factories of the Dutch, French, Portuguese, and English,most of which are now transformed into hospitals, lunatic asylums, hotels for European travellers, or pleasure-houses and grounds for wealthy natives.

Here are also grand English and Dutch cemeteries, where many noted English and Dutch lie magnificently entombed in stately mausoleums, in order to impress the Oriental mind, which is always disposed to attach a certain kind of sanctity to piles of brick, mortar, and stone, whether priest, prophet, or knave lie interred beneath.

We tried to visit the "Pinjrapoore," or hospital for sick animals, here; it seems to be arranged much on the same plan as that in Bombay, but this place was too filthy to enter, and in that respect much inferior. Attached to it are large granaries, where all the damaged grain of the bazaars is piled up for the use of the sick animals in the hospital; and this it is which has rendered this place a perfect pest-house of insects and vermin of all kinds.

Fire-temples and towers of silence are numerous here, as Surat has a large Parsee community, who have been established in this region ever since the eighth century. The most curious and interesting people in this part of the world are the Borahs, the Jains, and Buniahs.

The Borahs are divided into two classes, the traders and the cultivators. They are Hindoos converted to Mohammedanism; they form the most active and industrious cultivators of the soil, as well as cotton- and cloth-merchants. Their dress, manners, and language are the same as those of the Hindoos. Cotton is the chief staple. The Borahs occupy an entire street in Surat, and it is especially distinguished as being the cleanest in the native town. Their houses are spacious and well built, with fine open balconies. Their women are well treated. They support here a number of Mohammedan priests, a bishop—have a fine mosque wherein to worship, and one of the bestcolleges in this part of the country, where the Borah youths receive a thorough commercial education.

The Buniahs are almost identical with the Borahs in their trading and commercial qualifications. They are the great grain-merchants here and everywhere. They are also divided into three classes—the cultivators, the wholesale merchant, and the petty retailer, who travels from village to village with his grain-bags on his shoulders. The Buniahs, however, are Hindoos in religion as well as by birth.

The Jains, of whom mention has already been made, are seen in great numbers in the streets and bazaars. Their dress is a long white robe descending in full folds from the shoulders to the feet, and over the shoulders is thrown another long loose piece of white cloth; the head and beard are closely shaven. But the most striking peculiarity is a bit of white cloth of fine texture which they wear over the mouth to prevent them from destroying, by inhaling into their lungs, the minutest insect life. They are always found with a little broom in their hands, no matter where they go, so as to sweep the ground before seating themselves, with the same end in view—the preservation of all insect life; for this purpose they walk very slowly with their eyes cast on the ground. To destroy life, even unintentionally, is the inexpiable sin, and a Jain will not drink any water until he has strained it, nor will he take any meal or drink of any kind after sunset, lest he should happen to devour some living thing. The Jains have some fine temples in this city.

Surat was long in the possession of the Mohgul emperors. In 1842 the last nawab died, and it passed into the hands of the East India Company. It is still a great trading city; the surtee rassum, or manufactured silk of Surat, is very beautiful; the gold and silver ornamentssold in the bazaars are unique and of fine workmanship. Surat is also famous for the weaving of many varieties of cotton cloths; these are usually woven in small chequered patterns with bright and elegant borders. Potteries are not only numerous, but some pottery of very fine form and quality is sold in the bazaars and is said to be of home manufacture.

The last day we spent in Surat was passed in driving through the suburbs in a native wagon drawn by a fine pair of humpbacked white bullocks (zebus), who carried us rapidly over the ground. We alighted at the palace of the last nawab, called at once the "gift of God" and the "seat of oppression." Of its being the former there is no trace, but the shadow of the latter name seems still to fall upon the partially deserted place. Apart from the collection of Persian and Arabic manuscripts to be seen in a room adjoining the palace of the nawab, there is nothing to interest the curious visitor. With the removal of the Moslem flag that once waved so proudly over the citadel of Surat the glory of the Mohgul conquerors departed.

The Mohgul quarter of the city is gradually falling into decay; ruin and desolation mark the spot where many a noble pile of Moslem dwellings once stood. The very name of the Mohguls is almost a thing of the past, save that in household song and story their deeds will ever cast behind them a dark and terrible shadow.

We left Surat, or ratherSoo Rashtra, "the pleasant country," seated in a dhuinee, a native wagon on two wheels with a cloth canopy overhead, and drawn by a pair of large, handsome humped oxen, with a Bheel guide, the pundit, and two servants. We had traversed a large extent of country, halted under trees by the roadside and at mean little dhurrum-salas, without fear or molestation of any kind, with but few detentions, and only oneaccident to our wagon, which was repaired almost at once by applying to the headman of a village near by, who not only sent us a blacksmith, but came out to see the work done himself. The plan adopted in our travels through the Deccan we carried out in our entire journeyings through Guzerat and back—i. e.to send the pundit to the governor of the town or to the headman of the village to ask escort and guide for the place itself as well as to the next station; and in no instance were these unfaithful to the trust reposed in them. When they quitted us at the appointed station we generally made them a small present, which brought down upon us showers of blessings and unqualified praise. I did not doubt, however, that our good-fortune in this respect was owing to the dignified bearing and sanctified presence of our Brahman pundit. For the first few miles from Surat to Ratanpoore, "the Jewel City," the road was deep and heavy, and our wagon dragged slowly along, but it was not long before we came out on a magnificent park-like country, which is the characteristic of almost the whole vast province lying west of the Deccan. It was delightful to hear our Bheel guide singing in his deep sonorous voice as he trotted on by our side, in which music he was joined occasionally by our driver. One of his songs was intended to gratify European hearts and ears (with the "inam," or present, in prospect, I suppose), the chorus of which was as follows:

"Bur, bur, nashanee oorta hai,Ingraje Bhadhar ki,Mar lia rah Tipoo Sultan,Wo kaya lurta, hârâm ki."("Behold proud England's flag unfurlAnd wave on every height.Beaten low lies Tippoo Sultan;With England who dare fight?")

"Bur, bur, nashanee oorta hai,Ingraje Bhadhar ki,Mar lia rah Tipoo Sultan,Wo kaya lurta, hârâm ki."

"Bur, bur, nashanee oorta hai,

Ingraje Bhadhar ki,

Mar lia rah Tipoo Sultan,

Wo kaya lurta, hârâm ki."

("Behold proud England's flag unfurlAnd wave on every height.Beaten low lies Tippoo Sultan;With England who dare fight?")

("Behold proud England's flag unfurl

And wave on every height.

Beaten low lies Tippoo Sultan;

With England who dare fight?")

This chorus was kept up with great animation until we reached the Jewel City, which is named after the extensive carnelian-mines in its neighborhood. Our measure of sleep at the miserable halting-place was stinted, for we started at dawn to visit the mines, situated some distance from the village along the slope of a picturesque hill. The road was literally covered with discarded pieces of carnelian. The mines were neither high nor deep. The entire face of the hill is perforated with galleries or pits that run in every direction. The gems are found imbedded in a slimy black clay holding numerous organic remains. In some parts the pits are carried down thirty feet before the peculiar deposit in which the carnelian abounds is reached. It is also found in many other places here still unknown to Europeans, as the natives keep the secret, as far as it is possible, to themselves and even from one another. It was interesting to see the men working at the mines. They were very poorly clad, with only alangoutee, or waist-cloth, round them, and each division was superintended by a number of better-dressed men calledsirdhars, or "head lords." The stones are collected in great quantities, then tried by means of another sharp stone prepared for the purpose. If they chip easily they are discarded, but if they have a firm, compact texture and a deep-black color, they are selected, cleaned, and exposed on strips of rough straw mattings to the sun's rays for the space of a year or more, since the longer they are thus exposed the brighter the color and polish after baking. The process of baking these stones is both curious and original. The rough stones are piled in small heaps on the ground, which is slightly hollowed out to receive them. Small earthen pots with holes in them are placed over each pile; then a quantity of goat- or sheep-ordure is heaped up on each pot; it is then kindled and allowedto smoulder all night. On the following morning the stones are carefully examined, and if they have acquired the deep bright tint peculiar to the carnelian known to commerce, they are ready for the jeweller's polish; if not, they are once more subjected to the fire. The shops in Baroda, Cambay, and Ahmedabâd have great varieties of these stones for sale; for they are not only carved into rings, beads, bangles, boxes, vases, bowls, and mouthpieces for pipes, but idols for the Jain, Hindoo, and Buddhist temples are also fashioned out of them.

Our journey from Ratanpoore to Baroda was through a very beautiful country, and, though it is said to be infested with Kholee and Bheel robbers, we passed through it without the least molestation. At one point of the road not far from Baroda we espied a thick wood above which towered the slender spires of some Hindoo temples. The moment these were seen our pundit, driver, and Bheel escort craved permission to retire forpuja, or worship, for a few moments. The oxen were fastened to the branch of a tree by the roadside, and we alighted and walked about until our pious attendants had finished their devotions to the goddess Bhawanee, enshrined even here as the favorite of the reigning Mahratta kings.

Baroda, or Varodah, "the good water country," is now the capital of the Guicowars, which name means, literally, "owner of heads of cattle." It is the quaintest, the most densely populated, and independent city in this province.

The first Guicowar, a peasant by the name of Pullahji, was employed as a domestic in the service of the Peishwa Baji Roa. He soon raised himself by means of his extraordinary military talents to the rank of a commanding officer of the Peishwa's troops. Shortly after, having won over the army, he declared his independence and established himself on the throne of the Peishwas in Guzerat.Having sprung from the hardy Khumbis, or cultivators of the soil, he was justly proud of his race, and assumed the ancient title of Guicowar. Whenever opportunity offered, Pullahji, bent on conquest, invaded the Peishwa's territories, carrying pillage and disorder through the richest provinces of Nagpoor Rajpootana. His successors, however, have been obliged to employ the aid of the British troops to hold their own in these provinces, which are at best but partly subjugated.

We crossed an old Hindoo bridge of curious structure consisting of arches placed one over the other, and spanning an impetuous but extraordinarily beautiful river still bearing the polished Sanskrit name ofVishwamitra, or "the friendly preserver." It flows strong and swift for many miles through a deep rocky channel. Its banks are singularly striking in some parts, rising on either side from fifty to sixty feet. Its waters, instead of appearing friendly, seemed dark and turbulent, not unlike the barbaric city which stretched along its banks. Temples, mosques, tombs, mausoleums, and dark, sombre-looking fortresses are seen everywhere; great flights of stone steps lead to the fast-flowing river, and all day long these are crowded with men and women washing, bathing, or filling their water-jars. The suburbs of Baroda extend for miles, and in the most densely crowded part of the capital the streets are narrow and crooked, the houses mostly of wood, but built with a view of architectural effect. Some are almost like pretty Swiss châlets, and others not unlike Italian villas. At the cross-roads and in various parts of the streets and lanes are seen queer little temples with the oddest of gods and goddesses enshrined in them—deities of the woods, fountains, streams, and even of the streets—and over these fluttered the gay-colored flags of the Guicowar. As for the inhabitants of Baroda, as seen in thestreets, verandahs, and shops, they are quite characteristic. Specimens of every Eastern nationality may be seen here, and, what is more, in the martial atmosphere of the place they seemed more like freebooters, murderers, and warriors than like the simple citizens of a great agricultural district such as Guzerat presents outside of her cities and towns.

The city proper, or rather the citadel, is walled. It is entered by huge gateways guarded by soldiers, and made even more imposing by the lofty round towers that crown it on either side. It is divided into four portions, three of which are occupied by the nobility of the court of Guzerat, and the other by the palaces and buildings of the Guicowar himself. The antechamber of the palace is a huge stone structure supporting a many-storied wooden balcony, from the centre of which rises a lofty pyramidal clock-tower painted in various colors and looking fantastic beyond description. Here we saw the Guicowar going to worship at some temple; he was preceded by a number of led horses and elephants splendidly caparisoned; then came his standard borne on a great elephant, followed by the Guicowar himself. After him came men on foot in scarlet dresses, and more elephants. The elephants here are trained for riding, hunting, war, and even as executioners and combatants.

The English station is very picturesquely situated, and is purely European in appearance. The contrast is all the more striking after seeing the citadel of the Guicowar. It is on the north bank of the river Vishwamitra, and not far from the great highway are the British residency and travellers' bungalow, where we were most comfortably lodged.

One of the most ancient and curious temples to be seen here is situated at the west end of the suburbs of Baroda. It is called Ghai Dawale, "the cow temple." The front is imposing. A portico with granite pillars admits youinto a series of vaulted chambers, and there are numberless idols of gods and goddesses enshrined in niches, with offerings of flowers before them and red paint sprinkled over their persons. A great many corridors lead to other chambers, cells, vaults, and mysterious retreats that have sprung up round it owing to the vast number of priestesses called Páthars attached to it. Another feature of Baroda are the magnificentbowries, or wells, that are found here; some are in themselves most exquisite pieces of architecture, and may be called temples built over reservoirs. The entrance to these well-temples are by five or more pavilions; thence a flight of stone steps leads to a second dome, which is arched, and under the outer dome, which is in its turn supported by lofty pillars and is pyramidal, then more steps and more pillars, until the level of the water is reached, which is again covered by a last and beautiful dome supported by innumerable short pillars. The largest of these wells in Baroda is calledNou Laki, or "Nine Laks," from its having cost that amount in building. It was erected by Suleiman, the governor of Baroda inA. H.(Mohammedan) 807. The water is very delicious, and here people from all parts of the country assemble to drink—mendicant Brahmans, gossains for alms, and fakeer carriers of relics to trade. The latter is not a mendicant, but a religious trader, whose chief claim to sanctity consists in the marks he wears on his brow and nose. These men go from place to place carrying their curious relics in curtained baskets slung across their shoulders; their shirts and cumberbunds are filled with balls, beads, and pins made from the wood of thetoolie[85]and other sacred trees. They have beads of sandal and other woods strung into necklaces, bracelets,armlets, and anklets, mud figures of gods and goddesses made of the sacred clay of the Ganges, the Godaveri, and the Brahmapootra, precious bones of saints and prophets carved into amulets, and any quantity of yellow threads as a preservative against the evil eye. Women and children flock round these relic-carriers, and in return for grain, cloth, silver, and gold they will fasten a small yellow thread, a bead, an amulet, or a precious bit of some dead saint's bone—these, however, they part with only for gold or silver—around their wrists, arms, neck, and feet, to preserve the wearer not only from the evil eye, which is much dreaded in the East, but from all diseases and from sudden death.

Once more in our native wagon, with a fresh guide and escort we started for Cambay, the Khambayat of the ancients. We passed through a luxuriant country, for Guzerat is indeed the garden of the East. The thriving villages enclosed with great hedges of prickly pear; the pretty little wooden houses of moderate size, all built on the same plan, with farms, or cotton-plantations, or fruit-orchards of mangoes, tamarinds, etc., attached to them; the two-storied houses of the priest, the village schoolmaster, and the headman, with their high verdant hedges shutting off the house from curious eyes and separating it from its neighbors,—this all makes up a pretty picture. In the centre of these Guzerat villages there is generally a Hindoo temple, and a space fenced or hedged in where all the villagers assemble for prayers, celebration of holidays, and other festival gatherings.

The Guzerati women are handsome, well-formed, and remarkably industrious; many of them do all their weaving and spinning at home. Their chief food consists of eggs, fowls, milk, cream, and cheese: some of the Guzerat Brahmans will eat fowl and even game. The men arewell-formed, athletic, and of fairer complexion than the natives of Southern India.

Cambay is a city of great antiquity and well known to early European travellers. In 1543, Queen Elizabeth of England sent a mission to Khambayat, with instructions to proceed thence to China. The Hindoos state that on the site of Cambay stood twelve hundred and eighty years ago an ancient Brahman city—according to Forbes, the Camanes of Ptolemy. It derives its present name, however, from a copper pillar, called "Khamb," dedicating it to the presiding deity of the place, the earth-goddess Dèvi; the date on this pillar is a little before the eleventh century of our era. Cambay has an air of extreme sluggishness and rapid decay, and one cannot fail to see its changeful history in its numerous foundations. Everywhere are remnants of many cities and many kinds and styles of architecture, built one above the other.

The travellers' bungalow here comprises the upper stories of a spacious stone building, once the English factory. It overlooks the entire city, which is built on an eminence, with its old walls perforated with holes for musketry, its fifty-two towers and ten gates guarded by soldiers, and also looks out upon the great Gulf of Cambay, than which I know nothing more formidable in nature. At low tide for miles out one sees only a vast plain, moist, strewn with shells, and intersected here and there with deep hollows and shifting sandbanks; but when the tide changes, and long before the waters appear in sight, are heard tremendous sounds, crash after crash, thunder after thunder, of the advancing tide, which comes in leaping like a huge monster, thirty to forty feet high, and breaks with terrific violence against the shore, carrying everything before it. Ships and native vessels anchor at a point some miles down the gulf, where the tides are less strong.

Cambay has witnessed many a dreadful scene of carnage by the Mohguls, Hindoos, Persians, and Rajpoots. The only objects of real interest here are subterranean Jain temples; they are situated in the Parsee district. The exterior, or rather upper part, of the temple would be insignificant but for the imposing statue of Parswanath, sculptured in white marble, surrounded by a host of smaller images, many of which are jewelled and are sold as household deities. Our guide pointed to us a queer narrow opening at the side which led by means of steep steps to the underground temples which the Jains, like the early Christians, built for purposes of midnight assembly and worship in order to escape the persecution of the Mohammedan conquerors of Guzerat.

Emerging from one of the gates of Cambay, we wended our way through ruins which are scattered all about the neighborhood. Now a broad paved pathway, now crumbling tombs, anon ancient structures, a broken archway, a cluster of roofless pillars, or, again, dilapidated temples, mark the sites where stood rich and quaint habitations, temples, or pavilions of the ancient Hindoos. The richness and luxuriance of nature seems to have vanished also from these ruinous suburbs, and our road was no longer beautiful, but lay through a deep sandy plain until we entered the ancient capital of the great sultans, Ahâmâdabâd or Ahmedabâd, one of the unrivalled cities of the East.

The travellers' bungalow is a pleasant place, and everything in the way of living is as cheap and good as one could possibly desire. We engaged a very intelligent guide, who spoke Hindostanee well, to take us to the places best worth seeing.

Our first drive was to Mirzapoor to see the Ranee-Ki-Musjid, or "the Queen's Mosque," an enchanting spot.The moment we alighted in front of it a very old fakeer, with a multitude of necklaces round his neck, came out to greet us, and for a rupee showed us about the place. The mosque and mausoleum here are both beautiful marble structures, erected to the memory of a princess, Rupavati. Her tomb, which is richly ornamented, is of a mixture of Moslem and Hindoo style of architecture. The dome is magnificently fretted, and pillars standing at each tower form a graceful colonnade around the tomb. But perhaps the chief and peculiar beauty was the situation of these partially ruined monuments, amid a wild tangle of fruit and other trees where birds, squirrels, and monkeys find a pleasant home. The second mosque and tomb are not far off, dedicated to the memory of a Mohammedan queen called Ranee Sipra-Ki-Musjid, "the Queen Sipra's Mosque," one of the favorite wives of Ahmed Shah, the founder of the city. These are exquisite buildings too, and in the finest Saracenic style; the pillars and minarets have an air of wonderful loftiness and beauty.

The Kanch Ki-Musjid, or "Glass Mosque," and the Jummah-Musjid, are both remarkably beautiful structures. The Glass Mosque, so called from the whiteness and purity of the marble of which parts of it was built, has a graceful dome after the Turkish style, terminating in a crescent. The Jummah-Musjid is in the vicinity of the great street, "Manik Chouk," which contains the chief bazaars and markets of Ahmedabâd. It is an oblong building, with a fine open courtyard containing a reservoir for washing the feet of the worshipper before entering the precincts of the temple. The light elegant domes of this building are supported by graceful pillars, and its open arches, minarets, and façades are most exquisitely ornamented.

The grand royal cemetery of Sarkhej lies several milesfrom the city of Ahmedabâd—a wondrous ruin, the ancient summer residence of Ahmed Shah. To approach it one is obliged to cross a fine pebbly stream fordable at points, called theSaber-Muttee, properlySafer Muttee, "pure sand." The road leading to these vast ruined structures of palaces, hareems, mosques, tombs, and gardens is still paved in some parts.

We were admitted by a saintly custodian, who became affable the moment silver coins were dropped into his half-open palm. Gury Baksh, or "the bestower of virtue," the spiritual adviser of Ahmed Shah, lies interred here beneath a splendid monument which attracts crowds of pilgrims annually. The tomb and mosque were completed by Khouttub-ood-din, the grandson of Ahmed Shah. The city is founded on the site of a very ancient and populous Hindoo town dedicated to and called after the goddess Ashawhalla, and is built out of the materials of one or more Hindoo cities which Ahmed Shah sacked and plundered, carrying away the stones, pillars, and monuments bit by bit.

Ahmedabâd was given up to the East India Company in 1818, and has been held by it ever since. It is impossible to do anything like justice to the beauties and attractions of this magnificent Mohammedan city. It abounds in stately monuments, mosques, mausoleums, palaces, great reservoirs, and gardens, in a more or less ruinous condition, but which show a high degree of civilization and point to a period when the Mohgul occupation of India was at its highest prosperity.

Leaving Ahmedabâd, we started for Mount Aboo, a place very little known, but one of the most beautiful spots in the world. The magnificent province of Guzerat is separated from Marwar on the north-east by a range of mountains in which are Mount Aboo and a beautifulmountain-lake called Aboogoosh. Passing through Desa, a military station for European troops, and across the Bhanas River, our road lay for many weary days through patches of jungle more or less dense until we found ourselves at the pretty little Marwar village of Andara, which lies at the foot of Mount Aboo. There is a good path from the village to the summit of the mount, and here a beautiful lake, called after the saint "Aboo," who is said to have excavated the basin in which it lies with his nails, and it is therefore called Nakhi Taloa, "Nail Lake." It is an exquisitely shaded bit of water, and in its vicinity are found wonderful Jain temples built of pure white marble. Not far from this spot is the sanitarium for travellers, where we took up our abode, barracks for convalescent European soldiers, and a quiet, unpretending little Protestant church.

The most important of the cavern-temples in the neighborhood are the Tij Phal and the Veinahl Sah. One is dedicated to a Jain saint, Vrishab-Deva. It stands alone in a square court, and all around it are little cells with deities enshrined in them. A number of strange-looking priests worship here, making offerings of saffron, lamps fed with ghee, and incense in small brass pots. One priest deliberately asked us for somebrandy, and, as we had none to give him, proposed instantly to go back with us if we would give him some, because he suffered from pains in his stomach.

The temple dedicated to Parswanath, the great Jain teacher and saint, is an exquisite bit of architecture built of the purest white marble. From one of the vaulted roofs is suspended a cluster of flowers resembling the half-blown lotus, sculptured out of the rock; its cup and petals are so beautifully carved that they are almost as delicate and transparent as the flower itself. Everywherethe flowers, fruits, birds, and animals indicate that the artists must have taken their models from nature. There is also a fine Rajpoot fortress here. The dog-rose, a beautiful Indian flower calledseotee, the pomegranate, the wild grape, the apricot, are among the indigenous products of Mount Aboo. The mango tree also abounds here, the white and yellow jessamine, the balsam, and the golden champa, which is sacred to the gods; but the rarest and most beautiful of all the plants is a parasite called by the nativesambathri, with lovely blue and white flowers, creeping, entwining, and blossoming around the largest forest trees.

It was a beautiful morning on which we returned to Andara. It was not without deep regret that we bade adieu to this charming mountain-region and the Jain temples enshrined within its heart. We turned again and again to take a last look at the bas-reliefs and the ornaments wrought here with such grace and delicacy of design as to become the despair of our more impetuous artists, before we could make up our minds to quit those extraordinarily beautiful monuments for ever.

FOOTNOTE:[85]A native name for a tree which is found in great abundance in this part of India, and held very sacred.

[85]A native name for a tree which is found in great abundance in this part of India, and held very sacred.

Native Passenger Boat on the Hoogly

Native Passenger Boat on the Hoogly.

Calcutta, the City of the Black Venus, Kali.—The River Hoogley.—Cremation-Towers.—Chowringee, the Fashionable Suburb of Calcutta.—The Black Hole.—Battles of Plassey and Assaye.—The Brahmo-Somaj.—Temple of Kali.—Feast of Juggurnath.—Benares and the Taj Mahal.

After eight or nine days' steaming from the fair and picturesque island of Bombay our captain announced that we were about to enter the Hoogley, a river made famous in Indian song and story as "the strong arm of the beautiful goddess Gunga, the compassionate daughter of the proud Himâlayas," but which is in reality a great muddy estuary. The burning sun poured down upon its heavy waters as they loomed out of the distant plain and rolled sluggishly toward the sea, every wave seeming to bear on its troubled brow an impress of the dark history of the land through which it has flowed for centuries.

Late in the same evening the pilot-boat came out to meet us, and not long after we cast anchor at a place called Saugor, where there is a lighthouse. I remember distinctly the oppressive night we passed here, owing no doubt to the combined impurities rising out of the turbid waves and the fetid odors of the adjoining land. Early next morning we were again in motion, sailing up the dusky Hoogley. Its low, muddy banks were dotted with wretched-looking mud huts, relieved only by the ever-graceful palm trees that waved above them. What a contrast this river was to the clear, limpid, and joyous Krishna, the high-bankedand proudly isolated Godaveri, the genial, broad-breasted Taptee, and the grand, impetuous Vishwamitra of Western India!

Another day was nearly gone before we reached our moorings. We cast anchor once more amid a dense forest of masts, funnels, and native craft in the harbor of Calcutta. We were met at the Champhool Ghaut, or landing-place, by kind friends. Ascending a magnificent flight of stone steps and passing under a great archway, we hurried into a European carriage, and were driven rapidly from the strange conflicting mass of humanity that always abounds at a great seaport, but especially at the seaports of all the British settlements in India.

The house of our friends here was in many respects furnished like a European dwelling, and one might almost fancy himself in an English home but for the pillared halls; the spacious chambers, with long punkahs or fans suspended from the ceilings, some of which are kept going night and day; the dark, silent barefooted domestics, robed in pure white, who are seen gliding noiselessly to and fro, which lend a powerful magic charm, a flavor of the Arabian Nights, to the interior of even the most ordinary of British homes in the East.

Calcutta, the capital of British India, still bears the name of the black goddess Kali, who is supposed to spread pestilence, famine, and death over the land of which she is the presiding deity whenever her altars are neglected and her thirst for vengeance unappeased. Unhealthy as the spot is, it was rendered infinitely more so by the innumerable corpses that were until within a few years cast upon the waters of the Hoogley: the poverty-stricken inhabitants of the land, unable to pay the expenses of a funeral by cremation, committed their dead to these waters in the belief that its mystic current would purify them fromall taint of sin. This, however, has been prohibited by the British authorities. Huge cremation-towers now receive all bodies cast upon its waters, whence the never-dying flames are seen constantly ascending, dark and lurid, toward the tranquil blue sky.

The town of Calcutta lies on the eastern bank of the Hoogley, which is the eastern arm of the old Ganges, and held almost as sacred as that river; the natives daily repair in great numbers to its banks to offer up prayers and praises. Here also, amid the din and noise and hurry of native craft, trading vessels, and all manner of river commerce, may be seen at any hour of the day or night the sick and dying of the Hindoo population stretched on the edge of the river's banks, half immersed in the sacred stream, their faces turned to the sky, convulsed or calm, breathing their lives away.

At high water the Hoogley is nearly a mile broad in front of the town, and is very pleasant to look upon. Fine ships and steamers of all nations and countries lie here within sight and sound; picturesque-looking craft of every kind are seen gliding swiftly hither and thither. But at low water the scene suddenly changes; the river becomes a shrunken and muddy ghost of itself, with filthy borders, whence myriad floating particles of miasma are wafted on the air to the poor humanity who are doomed to live and labor in its vicinity.

After passing the triumphal archway you emerge on a spacious open area called the Meidân, or plain; here all the principal roads part and meet, and here on either side one sees a grand display of really stately architecture. This is the handsome and fashionable suburb of Chowringee, and in every respect worthy of being called, as it is, "the City of Palaces." The houses are all European, three and four stories high, some detached, othersconnected by handsome terraces or open sunny balconies, many with shady verandahs, high carriage-porches supported by stately pillars, while not a few are rendered still more attractive and home-like with gay flower-gardens and fine forest and fruit trees, which latter are not as fine as those found in the gardens of Bombay, owing to the destructive influence of the periodical cyclones that sweep over the valley of the Ganges.

Our first drive was through this the European part of the city, which extends about five miles along the river. A noble and much-frequented esplanade divides the town from Fort William. On one side stands the new Government-house, said to have been erected by the marquis of Wellesley. It is a noble pile, an Ionic structure on a simple rustic basement. A flight of stone steps leads to the north entrance. The south part of the building is ornamented with a circular colonnade surmounted with a lofty dome. There are spacious corridors at each of the four corners, with circular passages leading to the private apartments of the family. This princely building contains magnificent chambers, some of which are richly decorated and filled with valuable portraits of the great viceroys of India. Near the Government-house stand the Town-hall, Treasury, and High Court; opposite is Fort William, commenced by Clive soon after the famous battle of Plassey in 1775, the most systematically-constructed fortress in India. It is said to have cost the East India Company the immense sum of one million pounds sterling. In shape it is an irregular octagon, with bombproof quarters for a garrison of no less than ten thousand men and with room for six hundred pieces of cannon. Toward the front it presents a regular massive appearance, and is not unlike most European fortifications, but on the side overlooking the river it is strikingly varied and picturesque, owing to theextremely irregular and broken character of the structure. It was designed to bear upon objects that might approach the town on either side of the river, and is eminently effective in warding off danger. Immediately beyond the fort the fine steeple of the cathedral is seen rising pure and high above the surrounding foliage. There is also here a palatial residence for an Anglican bishop, and in 1844 the Rev. H. Heber was the first Christian divine appointed to this see, with a salary of five thousand pounds per annum.

Here in this spot is found the secret of the marvellous success of that small band of intelligent Englishmen who first set out for India under the name and protection of trade. Here only a few years after their arrival they laid aside their intention of simple traders; here they mounted their guns, enrolled armed bands of natives to assist them in their new position, made laws, punished evil-doers, rewarded the industrious and such as made no opposition to their pretensions; and here from one step to another they finally became the legislators and rulers of the land. The city of Calcutta does not date farther back than the famous battle of Plassey. The old fortified English factory was erected on a low marshy plain in the middle of a few straggling native villages, bordered on three sides by dense jungles infested with tigers. At that time it had a garrison of only three hundred men; nevertheless, that insignificant English stronghold became in a short time the depository of all the rich merchandise of the Gangetic valley, which excited the cupidity of many of the rajahs. In 1756, Nawab Surajah Dowlah attacked it with an immense army, and after a desperate resistance from the English merchants and soldiers of the fort he finally succeeded in capturing it. Then followed the famous Black Hole tragedy, which Macaulay has so graphically described: "One hundred and forty-six persons werethrust into a dungeon twenty feet square; driven into this cell at the point of the sword, the door was shut ruthlessly upon them. When they realized the horrors of their position they strove to burst the door. They offered large bribes to the jailers, but all in vain. The nawab was asleep, and none dared to awaken him. At length the unhappy sufferers went mad with despair. They trampled each other down, fought for the places at the windows, fought for the pittance of water with which the cruel mercy of the murderers mocked their agonies, raved, prayed, blasphemed, implored the guards to fire among them. The jailers in the mean time held lights to the bars and shouted with laughter at the frantic struggles of their victims. At length the tumult died away in low gaspings and moanings. The day broke. The nawab had slept off his debauch, and permitted the doors to be opened. But it was some time before the soldiers could make a lane for the survivors by piling up on each side the heaps of corpses on which the burning climate had already begun to do its loathsome work. When at length a passage was made, twenty-three ghastly figures, such as their own mothers would not have known, staggered one by one out of the charnel-house. A pit was instantly dug. The dead bodies, one hundred and twenty-three in number, were flung into it promiscuously and covered up." Such was the terrible nature of the affair of the Black Hole. But the day of retribution was not far distant.

In order to understand the position of the East India Company at this time we must go back a few years. The jealousy that had sprung up between the French and English trading companies broke out into open hostilities at the moment of the declaration of war by Louis XV. in 1744. The English were the first to receivereinforcements from home. Four English vessels, having previously captured three richly-laden French vessels on their voyage from China, appeared off the coast of Coromandel in July, 1745. Dupleix, the governor at Pondicherry, apprehensive that, owing to the incomplete state of the fortifications and the insufficient garrison, the place would be taken, prevailed on the nawab Anwar Ou Deen to threaten to revenge upon the English at Madras any injury that the squadron should inflict upon the French possessions within the limits of his government. The Madras officials, intimidated by the authoritative language of the nawab, took immediate measures to prevent the English fleet from attacking Pondicherry. The English squadron, in obedience to the orders received, confined their hostile operations to the sea.

In the following year an indecisive action took place between the English squadron and a French fleet under the command of La Bourdonnais; after which the latter, having reinforced himself at Pondicherry, proceeded to attack the English at Madras. The town was bombarded for several days; a few of the inhabitants were killed by an explosion of a bombshell. The English, knowing that the nawab, with all his countless forces, was on the side of the French, capitulated, on which the assailants entered the town and took it without the loss of a single life.

Robert Clive, then only a writer in the East India Company's service, was among the persons who agreed to submit to La Bourdonnais, on the express condition that the settlement should be restored on easy and honorable terms. At the time when Madras had reverted to the English, Clive had already exchanged the pen for the sword, and had risen to the rank of a colonel in the East India Company's service. On hearing of the atrocity of the Black Hole the English at Madras immediatelydespatched a naval and military force, the one under Admiral Watson, and the other under Colonel Clive, to punish the nawab and protect the English at Bengal.

The bravery and "duplicity" of Clive, who believed in the adage, "similia similibus curantur," enabled him to succeed beyond the most sanguine expectations. Victory was followed by victory, and at length, at the battle of Plassey, Clive at the head of three thousand men, of whom less than one-third were English, and in the course of a single hour's conflict, routed the entire army of Surajah Dowlah, consisting of fifty-five thousand armed men. Surajah Dowlah vanquished and deposed, his prime minister, Meer Jaffer, was appointed in the place of the master, whom he had not only deserted, but betrayed, and thus Meer Jaffer became at once the subject and tool of the English.

The directors of the East India Company, on receiving the news of Clive's success, appointed him governor of their possessions in Bengal, and in 1760 Clive was raised to the peerage with an income of forty thousand pounds a year.

Warren Hastings was the next Englishman who from the position of a clerk in an office at Calcutta rose to be the governor-general of British India.

The kingdom of Mysore, whose lofty table-lands are swept by the cool breezes of the Indian Ocean, has always been inhabited by a more hardy and manly race than that which occupied the lower plains of Hindostan. Hyder Alee, an illiterate common soldier, impelled by a daring spirit of adventure, seized this kingdom of Mysore and seated himself on the throne of Seringapatam. The next step taken by this daring adventurer was even more startling. In the month of June, 1780, and when in his eightieth year, he led an immense army into the Carnatic,carrying slaughter and destruction wherever he appeared. Two small English armies, headed by Colonel Baillie and Sir Hector Munro, tried in vain to check his course; they were not only overwhelmed, but compelled to retreat, and it seemed as if the British empire in Southern India trembled on the very verge of destruction. It was this critical juncture that brought out the great genius of Warren Hastings. He at once took upon himself the supreme direction of affairs, superseded the incapable council at Madras, and without loss of time despatched the brave veteran Sir Eyre Coote with a small but resolute force to the assistance of the English at Madras. At once the forces of Hyder Alee were checked, siege after siege was raised, until at length the English and Mohammedan armies met on the plains of Cuddalore, whence, after a desperate fight, the latter was driven in wild and disorderly confusion. Hyder Alee died two years after this defeat, bequeathing to his son, the famous Tippoo Saihib, his throne and his hatred of English domination.

Very shortly after Warren Hastings, impeached by the House of Commons, resigned his office as governor-general of India. Then followed that famous trial which not only extended over seven years, but, when dismissed from the bar of the House of Lords, left Warren Hastings a ruined statesman and an insolvent debtor. The East India Company, however, came to his aid with an annuity of £4000 a year, and a loan, half of which was converted into a gift, of £50,000.

During the administration of the next governor-general, Lord Cornwallis, the implacable Tippoo Saihib suffered a signal defeat. Sir John Shore followed Lord Cornwallis, and was succeeded by the earl of Mornington, the elder brother of the "Iron Duke." He no sooner arrived in India than his attention was called to the intrigues of theFrench with Tippoo Saihib, who were planning, with the assistance of fresh European troops, to drive the English out of Hindostan. The treachery of Tippoo was anticipated by a declaration of war. On the 5th of March, 1798, a British army, commanded by General Harris, with the aid of several native powers, entered the territory of Mysore, stormed the city of Seringapatam, overthrew the dynasty of Tippoo Sultan, and annexed that magnificent province to the British dominions.

The British had no sooner gained possession of the lofty table-lands of the Mysore than a new and more formidable enemy, the warlike and predatory tribes who inhabited the table-land of the Deccan, opposed their further progress. The most renowned of these kings, the rajahs of Berar, Scindia, and Holkar, formed the famous northern confederacy under the leadership of a still more powerful chief, the Peishwa, whose government was at Poonah, the capital of the Deccan. The British were soon plunged into an extensive war with these wild and fierce northmen. On the 4th of September, 1803, the fort of Alleghur was taken by storm, and on the 11th of the same month General Lake met twenty thousand of these intrepid warriors, headed by able French officers, and defeated them, capturing Delhi, one of the most ancient capitals of Hindostan and the seat of the intolerant and luxurious Mohgul emperors. Triumph followed triumph; Agra, Ahmednug-gur, and the golden city of Aurungabâd surrendered.

At length the united powers of Scindia and the rajah of Nagpoor made one more desperate attempt to oppose the English power in the Deccan. The armies of the Mahratta kings were marshalled at the small village of Assaye to meet the British troops. On ascending the rising ground to reconnoitre the enemy's forces, the English commander, who was no other than General Wellesley,perceived a vast host extending in a line along the opposite bank of the Kelnah River near its junction with the Jewah. Their right consisted entirely of cavalry, and their left was formed of infantry trained and disciplined by De Boigne, with over one hundred pieces of cannon, which rested on the fortified village of Assaye. These were completely overthrown by Wellesley with a force not exceeding eight thousand men, and of whom not more than fifteen hundred were English.

The power of the Mahratta kings, once shaken at Assaye, was at length completely humbled on the plains of Argaum. They were compelled to sue for peace, which was only granted them at the expense of enormous territory. From this time British influence became paramount through the whole of Northern Hindostan, and these were the last and most famous of General Wellesley's conquests in India. He returned to England in 1805 to win for himself greater fame than even that which he achieved on Indian soil.

Magnificent as is the city of Calcutta architecturally, it was considered at one time one of the most unhealthy of spots. The entire country is flat; here and there are extensive muddy lakes, breeding under a tropical sun malaria and all manner of diseases; a line of dank, tangled forests still stretch across the land, and is not very distant from the town. In former times this jungle was the abode of innumerable wild beasts, and it is even now infested with jackals, who immediately after nightfall howl in sudden accord, uttering the most demon-like yells. These local disadvantages have been partially removed. The streets have been well and carefully drained; many of the stagnant, muddy pools have not only been filled up, but converted into blooming gardens; and the magnificent Botanical Garden with which Mr. Hooker has enrichedCalcutta, is said by good judges to be the finest in the world. Nevertheless, the air is still impregnated to a certain extent with the impure exhalations arising from the low jungles in the vicinity of this city, called the Sunderbunds.

From the palaces of the conquering Anglo-Indians the drive to the "Black Town," as the native portion of the city is still called, is enough to discourage the most enthusiastic of Christians in the world. This quarter of Calcutta stretches for some miles toward the north, presenting at once a sad contrast to the stately and grand portion occupied by the English. The transition is all the more marked because of the architectural pretensions of the one and the rude mud habitations of the other. Here reside at least three-fourths of the entire population of Calcutta. The streets are more or less narrow, filthy, unpaved, and unswept. The houses are built principally of mud, bamboo, or other coarse woods, swarming with an excess of population. Within this wretched vicinity are found no less than twenty entire bazaars extending from one end of the "Black Town" to the other, well stocked with goods from all parts of the world, rare and valuable products of the Indian loom, shawls and paintings from Cashmere, kinkaubs from Benares, teas and silks from China, spices, pearls, and precious stones from Ceylon, rupees from Pegu, coffee from Java and Arabia, nutmegs from Singapore; in fact, everything that the wide world has ever produced is displayed in shops that are nothing but miserably patched mud or bamboo dwellings. Through these native bazaars the teeming population seemed to flow and gurgle unchanged through all changes of governors, constitutions, and rulers—the same to-day, in type, character, feeling, religion, and occupation, as it was before the beginning of the earliest known history. Here,assembled from the four winds of the heaven, were all the elements of an unspeakably motley crowd—nut-brown, graceful Hindoo maidens tripping daintily with rows of water-jars nicely balanced on their heads; dark-hued young Hindoo men, all clean and washed, robed in pure white, laughing, talking, or loitering around; handsomely-dressed baboos—as the native gentlemen of Bengal are called—in Oriental costumes, but with European stockings and shoes, sauntering carelessly along; dancing-girls brilliantly attired; common street-women jewelled and bedizened with innumerable trinkets and in their distinctive garb; bheesties with water-skins on their backs; Borahs, brokers, Brahmans, Musulmans, sepoys, fakeers, and gossains, in their peculiar costumes, shouting in manifold tongues and various dialects; and, above all, there may be seen strolling jugglers, snake-charmers, and fortune-tellers plying their curious arts and completing the picture of an Oriental bazaar.

In some of the streets a small stream of water, a rivulet of the sacred Ganges, flows bright and clear through artificial channels. Many of the native shops open on it, and all day long hosts of men, women, and children may be seen seated beside it, busy or idle, but always grateful for this truly precious gift of the gods.

Calcutta boasts of a Sanskrit college of high repute, a Mohammedan, and an Anglo-Indian college, supported by the English government. The College of Fort William, founded by the marquis of Wellesley, is chiefly used by Englishmen, who, having been partially educated at the College of Haylesbury, England, are instructed here in the Oriental languages and other branches of study necessary for their respective professions and callings in India.

The government system of native education wasestablished on the foundation of the Hindoo schools already in existence. These schools are divided into two classes or grades, the upper and lower schools. In the upper, by means of Sanskrit, the peculiar philosophy, literature, and religion of the Hindoos are taught; the lower schools are to be found in every village, and may be numbered by tens of thousands; in these the teaching varies and is more or less dependent on the ability of the persons—i. e.Brahmans—who are employed to teach. Most of these village teachers are induced for about six pounds per annum to attend a normal school for a year; after having passed the required examination they are invited to take charge of some village school.

There are eight great centres of education in British India, and each is wholly independent of the others. These are the three great presidencies of Bengal, Madras, and Bombay, Scindh, the North-western Provinces, Oude, the Central Provinces, and British Burmah. Each of these has its own special director of public instruction, with a staff of inspecting officers. Among the institutions that are wholly supported by the government may be classed the village school, in which the vernacular of the district is taught with a few other studies; the zillah, or district school, in which the higher classes are often educated in English and prepared for the universities; the talook schools, which also are preparatory schools; colleges with European professors, in which a thorough English education is imparted to the students, as are now found in the chief cities of Benares, Delhi, Agra, Lahore, Poonah, Madras, and Calcutta; and the Elphinstone College at Bombay. Normal schools, technical colleges for medicine, engineering, and surgery, mission and other private schools abound, besides which there are thousands of purely native schools scattered throughout the vast territory ofIndia, still existing under the old Brahmanic village system of education.

Native female education is hardly begun by the government, and the task is very difficult, owing to the peculiar social restraints still imposed on the better class of Asiatic women. The Parsee female schools in Bombay are said to be the best supported and the most efficient in this respect. About twenty-five years ago Mr. Bethune opened in the city of Calcutta a school for native women. It was liberally supported by Lord Dalhousie, and since his death by the state. This was the beginning of a movement which has found great favor not only in Bengal, but in the North-western Provinces and the Punjaub. There are now in Bengal two normal schools for teachers and two hundred and forty-four schools for girls, with 4844 pupils. There are no fewer than six hundred and fifty schools in the Punjaub, with an aggregate of 20,534 pupils. These elementary schools in the Punjaub, Lahore, and Umritsur are superintended solely by native gentlemen. In addition to these the zenana mission-work, carried on so successfully by American and European missionary ladies, is slowly but surely preparing hundreds of women and children for a day that may ripen into better things; like a grain of mustard-seed once cast into the right soil, it will stretch out strong boughs to the four corners of the earth for the birds to lodge under.

Another school of religious thought, already mentioned, called the Brahmo-Somaj, "assembled in the name of God," is even more closely allied with the dawning freedom and emancipation of the Hindoos from the priestcraft and spiritual tyranny of the Brahman hierarchy. From this new school of religious thought a large party of about five thousand souls seceded some few years ago. They chose for their leader the able and astute philosopher, the lateKeshub Chunder Sen, one of the most talented and spiritual men among the Hindoos of to-day. This association has a church in Calcutta, where the members meet once a week or oftener for the purposes of meditation and worship.

Various means of improvement are now open to the British subjects of India. The English residents in Calcutta, Madras, and Bombay are among the most kind and liberal people in the world. Quite independent of the government establishments, they privately support a vast number of charitable institutions, and there is no end of societies for religious and other educational objects; and although the changes effected in the religious and social condition of the majority of the peoples since the occupation of India by the British are hardly perceptible, nevertheless some very important steps have been taken toward ensuring the good of the people at large, especially in the prohibition of sutteeism, infanticide, the terrific sacrifice of life that at one time characterized the festival of the god Juggernath, not to speak of the tortures of maddened fanatics and self-condemned ascetics, the horrible practices of the Thugs and that of the Meriahs of Orissa. All these savage practices are more or less repressed by the constant and vigilant operation of protective laws instituted by the British rulers.

Before leaving Calcutta we paid a visit to the Khali Ghaut, and alighted before a great hall with a towering but ungainly roof above it. This was the famous temple of the black goddess Kali. There was something more entangled, enchanted, and demon-like about this building and its interior than any other that I had ever entered in India. It was the festival of Juggernath. A number of white-robed priests were preparing to place the grim goddess in a car and to lead her forth to grace the festival. The temple consisted of a vast number of lowpillars; it was dimly lighted, and, although light was flooding the earth everywhere in great splendor, it was not allowed to enter here, but it worked its way hither and thither and quivered dubiously in unearthly tints on the face of the black goddess dimly visible in the distance. A more hideous and repulsive image can hardly be conceived by the heart of man than this veritable female fiend after whom the city of Calcutta is still named.

No one seemed to object to our entering the temple, so we walked down the dim aisles and stood face to face with the grim and terrible Kali. It would be impossible to give utterance to the sense of horror that crept over me as I looked at this strange, enigmatic deity of the Bengalees. The black face was surmounted by long hair which had the appearance of innumerable serpents; a red tongue protruded from the hideous mouth; the expression of the eyes was strange and fierce, almost to madness; she was furnished with four arms, in one of which she grasped a knife and in the other the head of a man; in another pair of hands higher up she held a lotos and thechakra, or the wheel. Round her neck hung the skulls of murdered victims, and she stood on the body of a prostrate man, who is represented trumpeting forth her praises even while she is in the act of crushing him to death.

The pundit explained to us the meaning of this horrible figure; no further text was needed. This grim idol is to the Hindoos a fearful warning against sensuality. The lotos in the upper hand, which is the emblem of purity, and the wheel of retribution, are transformed in the lower hands into a knife and a bleeding human head. She puts out her tongue derisively, and crushes her victim—all indicating, as plainly as our Bible, "The wages of sin is death." Human sacrifices were offered to her at no very remote period, but now, by order of the Britishgovernment, the sacrifices to her are limited to goats and kids, which are offered to her every morning.

As we were standing and looking at this strange idol, a number of barefooted priests came through a narrow court, entered the temple, and took their places beside the shrine. Two men very handsomely dressed approached from an opposite direction bearing a fine goat, which was tied by the feet, and laid it at the foot of the altar. Then one of the priests took from the altar a vase containing some red paint mixed with oil, with which he touched the forehead, fore feet, and breast of the goat; he then sprinkled some consecrated water on it. This done, a low-caste man stepped up, took the poor palpitating beast, inserted its head into a curiously-fashioned guillotine, secured it there by means of a wooden pin, and then dealt it one blow; the head was severed, and was presented to the officiating priests, and the executioner carried away the body. Such offerings are made by both men and women as an atonement for personal offences. Thus the wrath of the black goddess of Calcutta is supposed to be appeased. Goats are also sacrificed to her by Hindoo women when they have had bad dreams or when they anticipate any calamity, in order to avert the coming evil.

On the next day was the procession of Juggernath. A wilder and more incongruous scene I never witnessed. We spent several hours in watching the procession, which, issuing from the native town, traverses a large circuit round the principal thoroughfares, pauses at the bank of the river, and then retires to the country-seat of the idol, some few miles from the temple. The idol is made of wood, is about six feet high, with a grim human countenance—very unlike the carvings of Krishna to be found in other parts of India—painted blue, and seated in a lofty chariot borne aloft on sixteen high wheels. It wasdrawn by long ropes held by thousands of enthusiastic men, women, and children, who often bribe the priests for the privilege of conducting the god to his country-house. A number of priests and gayly-dressed priestesses, standing on the platform of the chariot, chanted the praises of the "lord of life," while the people shouted, screamed, and clapped their hands amid the wild beating of drums and din of hundreds of native musical instruments. The air was heavy with the incense offered to the idol, while nature around seemed to be steeped in repose, myriads of bees murmured softly their idyllic hum among the wayside flowers, doves were seen nestling together among the shady leaves of huge pepul trees, and around the cool recesses of huge tanks and reservoirs numbers of peacocks sat or strutted quietly about, unfurling their glories to the noonday sun. More puzzling than even the festival of Juggernath is the curious state of things still existing in British India, for side by side with the Church of the Brahmo-Somaj, the advanced thought and intelligence of the educated baboos and other highly philosophic and cultivated natives of Bengal, are the temples of the goddess Kali and the strange festival of Juggernath.

With regard to European influence, it must be admitted that it is hardly, if at all, felt by the majority of the native population. The viceroy and the great English grandees are separated from the natives for whose interests they are there by law and custom which nothing can overcome, and the officials around whom the whole Indian empire revolves are often ignorant of the Indian languages, races, religious and social prejudices, and mode of life of the hundreds of provinces that lie within the railways, while those beyond are to them, as the wilds of Africa, an undiscovered country. I have often heard gentlemen of great intelligence in other respects speak of thepeople of India with profound contempt, classing in one indistinguishable mass Brahmans, Hindoos, Parsees, Mohammedans, Arabians, Persians, Armenians, Turks, Jews, and other races too numerous to mention.

Our next visit was to Benares, the far-famed ecclesiastical metropolis of Hindostan. We rested full two hours just outside this sacred spot to enable our pundit to perform the prescribed observances before entering this holy of holies. When he appeared before us he was bathed, shaved, anointed, and clothed in pure white, and even to his sandals he was a new man. He kept his eyes half closed, so that his thoughts should not be tempted to stray from the object of his deep contemplation. Presently we were joined by a crowd of pilgrims who passed into the city, some prostrating themselves full length as they drew near. In the morning light Benares presented a most imposing appearance: the buildings are lofty and mostly in the Hindoo style of architecture, stretching for several miles along the edge of the Ganges, from which ascends a long line of stone steps. Next morning we visited several of the Hindoo temples, especially the temple of the monkeys, which was one of the most ludicrous I have ever witnessed. A number of tame monkeys played about the temple even while the most solemn services were being performed within. The large area for the cremation of dead bodies sent hither from all parts of Hindostan was the most astonishing thing I have ever seen, and the huge funeral pyres ever burning here produced on my mind an ever-memorable effect. We were glad to turn our steps from the revolting sights and scenes of the cremation-ground to a beautiful mosque which stands as a symbol of Moslem power in the very heart of this Brahmanic city, towering up above the surrounding buildings on the site of a once magnificent Hindoo temple which was torndown, by the order of Aurungzebe, to give place to the present graceful structure. We remained for an hour or more within the walls of this mosque, and came away charmed with the glistening mosaics, the capitals of the columns, the vaults, ceilings, and arches, and the thousand and one mysterious optical illusions of light and shade caused by the wonderous architecture of the Moslems. Our next visit was to the Hindoo Sanskrit College, the most famous institution of learning in Hindostan, and well worth seeing. The students often assemble here at sunrise, and even after sunset, to continue their studies, and in no part of India do I remember meeting so many noble-looking young Hindoos as were assembled in these halls on the morning of our visit.

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