Wanderings of a pilgrim in search of the picturesque, Volume 1 (of 2)

by Fanny Parkes Parlby

THE PEEPUL TREE (FICUS RELIGIOSA).

A peepul tree grows on the banks of the Jumna, just in front of our house; the fine old tree moans in the wind, and the rustling of the leaves sounds like the falling of rain; this is accounted for by the almost constant trembling of its beautiful and sacred leaves, which is occasioned by the great length and delicacy of the foot stalks; whence it is called Chalada, or the tree with tremulous leaves. The leaves are of a beautiful bright glossy green, heart-shaped, scalloped, and daggered; from their stalks, when gathered, a milky juice pours out; on wounding the bark of the trunk this milk is also poured out, with which the natives prepare a kind of birdlime.

There is a remarkable similarity between the Ancient Britons and the Hindoos: on the sixth day of the moon’s age, which is called Aranya-Shashti, “women walk in the forests, with a fan in one hand, and eat certain vegetables, in hope of beautiful children. See the account, given by Pliny, of the druidical misletoe, or viscum, which was to be gathered when the moon was six days old, as a preservative from sterility[85].” The Hindoo women eat the fruit of the peepul tree, and believe it to have the same wondrous qualities. There is another similarity between the hill tribes and the Ancient Britons, which will be mentioned hereafter. The peepul is sacred to Vishnoo, one of the Hindoo Triad; they believe a god resides in every leaf, who delights in the music of their rustling and their tremulous motion.

During the festival of the Muharram, the followers of the prophet suspend lamps in the air, and in their houses, made of the skeleton leaves of the peepul tree, on which they paint figures; some of these lamps are beautifully made; no other leaves will form such fine and delicate transparencies; I have tried the large leaf of the teak tree, but could not succeed as well with it as with that of the ficus religiosa. The Chinese paint beautifully on these leaves, first putting a transparent varnish over them. At Schwalbach, in Germany, I purchased skeleton leaves of the plane, in the centre of which the figure of Frederick the Great was preserved in the green of the leaf, whilst all around the skeleton fibres were perfect; how this is accomplished, I know not. The skeleton leaves are very beautiful, and easily prepared[86].

The peepul is universally sacred; the Hindoo women, and the men also, are often seen in the early morning putting flowers in pooja at the foot of the tree, and pouring water on its roots. They place their idols of stone beneath this tree, and the bér (banyan), and worship them constantly; nor will they cut a branch, unless to benefit the tree.

The native panchāyats (courts of justice) are often held beneath it. The accused first invokes the god in his sylvan throne above him, to destroy him and his, (as he himself could crush a leaf in his hand,) if he speak anything but the truth; then gathering and crushing a leaf, he makes his deposition.

The Hindoos suspend lamps in the air on bamboos, in the month Kartiku, in honour of their gods; these lamps are generally formed of ubruk (talc). Sometimes they are formed of clay, pierced through with fretwork, in remarkably pretty patterns. This offering to all the gods in this month procures many benefits, in their belief, to the giver; and the offering of lamps to particular gods, or to Gunga-jee, is also esteemed an act of merit.

Speaking of ubruk reminds me of the many uses to which it is applied. The costumes of native servants, Nāch women and their attendants, the procession of the Muharram, the trades, &c., are painted upon it by native artists, and sold in sets; the best are executed at Benares. By the aid of ubruk, drawings can be very correctly copied; they are speedily done, and look well[87]. We also used ubruk in lieu of glass for the windows of the hummām.

It was a source of great pleasure to me, at Allahabad, to ride out long distances in the early morning, hunting for rare plants and flowers; on my return I took off the impressions in a book of Chinese paper, and added to it the history of the tree or plant, its medicinal virtues, its sacred qualities, and all the legends attached to it, that I could collect[88].

From the Calcutta John Bull, July 26th, 1831.

“The Governor-general has sold the beautiful piece of architecture, called the Mootee Musjid, at Agra, for 125,000 rupees (about £12,500), and it is now being pulled down! The taj has also been offered for sale! but the price required has not been obtained. Two lacs, however, have been offered for it. Should the taj be pulled down, it is rumoured that disturbances may take place amongst the natives.”

If this be true, is it not shameful? The present king might as well sell the chapel of Henry the Seventh in Westminster Abbey for the paltry sum of £12,500: for any sum the impropriety of the act would be the same. By what authority does the Governor-general offer the taj for sale? Has he any right to molest the dead? To sell the tomb raised over an empress, which from its extraordinary beauty is the wonder of the world? It is impossible the Court of Directors can sanction the sale of the tomb for the sake of its marble and gems. They say that a Hindoo wishes to buy the taj to carry away the marble, and erect a temple to his own idols at Bindrabund!

The crows are a pest; they will pounce upon meat carried on a plate, and bear it off: they infest the door of the Bawarchī Khānā (cook room), and annoy the servants, who retaliate on a poor kawwā, if they can catch one, by dressing it up in an officer’s uniform, and letting it go to frighten the others. The poor bird looks so absurd hopping about. Sometimes they drill a hole through the beak, and passing a wire through it, string thereon five cowries; this bears the poor crow’s head to the ground, and must torture it. Such cruelty I have forbidden. The crow is a bird of ill omen.

On a babūl-tree in the grounds are twelve or fifteen beautiful nests pendant from the extremity of slender twigs—the habitations of a little community of Byā birds. I took down three of the nests; they contained two, three, and four little white eggs; the parent birds made a sad lament when the nests were taken. If you take a nest with the young birds in it, the parent bird will follow and feed them. The natives consider it highly improper to shoot the Byā birds; they are sacred, and so tame. One of my servants has brought me a young bird, it flies to my hand when I call it. There is a pretty fable which says, “The old birds put a fire-fly into their nests every night to act as a lamp.” Perhaps they sometimes feed their young on fire-flies, which may be the origin of the story. It is pleasing to imagine the sacred birds swinging in their pretty nests pendant from the extreme end of a branch, the interior lighted by a fire-fly lamp. The Byā bird is the Indian yellow-hammer; the nests I speak of are almost within reach of my hand, and close to the house. For the shape of the nests, see the sketch entitled “[The Spring Bow].” They are of grass beautifully woven together, and suspended by a long thin tapering end, the entrance hanging downwards. In the nests containing the young, there is no division, the swelling on the side is the part in which the young ones nestle together. Some of the nests appear as if they were cut short off: these are purposely built so, and contain two apartments, which are, I suppose, the places where the parent birds sit and confabulate on the aspect of affairs in general. The birds are very fond of hanging their nests from slender twigs, over a pool of water, as in the sketch, the young birds thus being in greater safety.

The wood of the babūl (acacia Arabica) is extremely hard, and is used by the Brahmans to kindle their sacred fire, by rubbing two pieces of it together, when it is of a proper age, and sufficiently dried. It produces the Indian gum Arabic. The gold ear-rings made in imitation of the flower of the babūl, worn by Indian women, and by some men also, are beautiful.

My ayha is ill with cholera: there is no hope of her recovery. The disease came across the Jumna, about four miles higher up than our house, and is regularly marching across the country to the Ganges: as it proceeds no fresh cases occur in the villages it leaves behind.

The old peepul moans and rustles in the wind so much, that deceived by the sound, we have often gone into the verandah joyously exclaiming “There is the rain!” To our sorrow it was only the leaves of the tree agitated by the wind.

In such a climate and during the hot winds, you cannot imagine how delightful the noise of the wind (like rain) in the old peepul appeared to us, or the lullaby it formed. It is a holy tree, every leaf being the seat of a god. They do not listen to the music of its rustling with greater pleasure than I experience; indeed, my penchant for the tree is so great, I am half inclined to believe in its miraculous powers.

August 31st.—The ice has lasted four months and fifteen days, which we consider particularly fortunate. It was opened the 15th of April.

Oct.—We are collecting grass and making hay for use during the hot winds. The people cut the grass in the jungles, and bring it home on camels. We have one stack of hay just finished, and one of straw.

“Bring me the silver tankard.” “I have it not, I know not where it is,” said the khidmatgār. The plate-chest was searched, it was gone.

It was the parting gift of a friend; we would not have lost it for fifty times its value. The servants held a panchāyat, and examined the man who had charge of the plate. When it was over, he came to me, saying, “I had charge of the tankard—it is gone—the keys were in my hands; allow me to remain in your service; cut four rupees a month from my pay, and let another silver cup be made.” The old man lived with us many years, and only quitted us when he thought his age entitled him to retire on the money he had earned honestly and fairly in service.

My tame squirrel has acquired a vile habit of getting up the windows and eating all the flies; if he would kill the musquitoes, it would be a very good employment, but he prefers the great fat flies—a little brute. The little squirrel is the only animal unaffected by the heat; he is as impudent as ever, and as cunning as possible.

Oct. 24th.—A slight earthquake has just taken place—this instant. I did not know what was the matter; there was a rumbling noise for some time, as if a carriage were driving over the roof of the house. My chair shook under me, and the table on which I am writing shook also. I became very sick and giddy, so much so, that I fancied I had fallen ill suddenly. When the noise and trembling ceased, I found I was quite well, and the giddy sickness went off. I never felt the earth quake before. Every one in the house was sensible of it. At the Circuit bungalow, nearly three miles off, it was felt as much as on the banks of the Jumna.

In a native family, if a person be ill, one of the relations takes a small earthen pan, filled with water, flowers, and rice, and places it in the middle of the road or street, in front of the house of the sick person, believing that if any one en passant should touch the offering, either by chance or design, the illness would quit the sufferer and cleave to the person who had touched the flowers or the little pan containing the offering. A native carefully steps aside and avoids coming in contact with the flowers.

To-day, a man was punished for perjury in this manner; he was mounted on a donkey, with his face to the tail of the animal; one half of his face was painted black, the other white, and around his neck was hung a necklace of old shoes and old bones. Surrounded by a mob of natives, with hideous music and shouts, he was paraded by the police all through the town! An excellent punishment.

Our farming operations commenced last September. On the banks of the Ganges, near the fort, we planted thirty beeghās with oats, and expect a crop sufficient to feed our horses and sheep, with plenty of straw to cut into bhoosa. The oats are not so large and heavy as those of England, nevertheless, very good. During the hot weather, we give our horses half oats half gram (chanā); in the cold season, oats and carrots; the latter are remarkably fine, we purchase them by the beeghā. A beeghā, or bīghā, is a quantity of land, containing twenty katthās, or 120 feet square.

In Calcutta, oats are procurable in abundance, and are usually to be had at those stations where there are race-horses; but they are not generally cultivated, and where they are a novelty the natives speak of them as “wheat gone mad.” At Allahabad, the gentlemen at the station cultivate large quantities on the river side.

I have just taken a sketch of a dwarf, a Hindoo, called Bhoodder Ram; he is fifty years of age, is married, and has a tall son, aged twelve years.

Bhoodder Ram measures three feet one inch and seven-eighths of an inch in height; his face bears the stamp of more than his age; his body is like a child’s; he is a native of Gyah. His brother, a tall man, accompanied him; the dwarf rode on a little pony. I asked him, “How old is your wife?” He answered, “She is tall, and like your sirdar-bearer,—as old as he is; and her face resembles his as nearly as nineteen is equal to twenty!” The dwarf is of low caste; he makes a great deal of money by asking charity, and travelling about the country.

I questioned him as to whom he made pooja to: he said, “God has made me little, and I go about asking charity; I was never taught how to make pooja to any god.” He wears a turban of gold and silver tinsel; but some foolish people, instead of allowing him to wear an Hindoo dress, have decked him out in the blue cloth frock and linen trowsers of an European child; a crimson scarf is thrown over his shoulders, and in his ears are gold hoops.

A man from Cabul passed me this morning, leading a beautiful high caste camel, with two humps on its back: the animal was very handsome, its hair remarkably long. I wished to sketch it, but the Arab was too great a gentleman to come out of his way for a rupee. The animals in general use have only one hump; they are, in fact, dromedaries, although generally called camels. The dokaha (camelus bactrianus), the real camel, has two humps or elevations on the back.

Nov. 7th.—We took the hounds to Papamhow, and soon found a jackal in the grounds: he took shelter in a field of joār or jwār, millet (andropogon sorghum), from which he could not again be started. Hounds in this country are extremely expensive; it is scarcely possible to keep them alive. Out of eight couple brought from England and added to the pack at Allahabad a few months ago, only three couple are alive. We rode over the grounds: how deserted they looked! the flowers dead, the fountain dry.

“’Twas sweet of yore to see it play

And chase the sultriness of day;

As springing high, the silver dew

In whirls fantastically flew,

And spread luxurious coolness round

The air, and verdure on the ground.”

“Demons take possession of an empty house[89];” the place is a wilderness. The old Brahman, who lives at a picturesque temple in the grounds by the side of the Ganges, did not remember me; he spoke in the warmest terms of the agent for gunpowder to the Government, who formerly lived here; and said he prayed to Mahadēo to send him back to Papamhow, as the natives had never had so good a master, either before or since.

A fair is annually held in these grounds, at which period the old Brahman reaps a plentiful harvest of paisā. The people who attend the fair make pooja at his little temple. The old man had an idiot son, who, having a great dislike to clothes, constantly tore all his attire to pieces; in the sketch, entitled [Adansonia Digitata], he is represented in his usual attitude, with both arms stretched out, remonstrating (after his fashion) with his father, on the impropriety of wearing clothes. The poor boy was speechless, but not dumb, for he could utter the most horrible sounds: and when enraged at his father’s attempting to clothe him, he would howl, make angry gestures, and tear off the obnoxious attire. During the time of the fair, the groups of natives, of horses, and odd-looking conveyances are very picturesque beneath the spreading branches of the great Adansonia trees.

Our friend was not only agent for gunpowder, but also, by the order of Government, he had established a manufactory for rockets at Papamhow, in consequence of the congreve rockets sent from England having proved unserviceable. He was obliged to make many experiments, to suit the composition to our burning climate, and to test the result of exposure to the sun. When the trials were to be made, and the rockets proved, I often went down upon the white sands in the bed of the river, to see the experiments.

The Ganges is from forty to forty-five feet deeper during the rains than during the dry season; and banks of the finest white sand, of immense extent, are left dry for many months in the bed of the river when the rains have passed away. The sands extended three or four miles, and being without cultivation or inhabitants, were exactly suited to the purpose. When the rockets were laid upon the sands, and fired, it was beautiful to see them rushing along, leaving a train of fire and smoke behind them; the roar of the large rockets was very fine,—quite magnificent.

When the rockets were fired from an iron tube at an elevation, it was surprising to see them ranging through the air for a mile and a half or two miles before they came to the sands, where, a certain distance being marked by range pegs at every fifty yards, the extent of their ranges was accurately ascertained: one of the large rockets ranged 3700 yards, upwards of two miles. I should think they would prove most formidable weapons in warfare.

Nov. 14th.—Some natives have just brought a lynx to the door,—such a savage beast! it was caught in the grounds of the circuit Bungalow; the first animal of the sort I have beheld. At Papamhow we found a wolf, and had a long chase, until the hounds lost him in an immense plantation of sugar-cane, from which there were too few dogs to dislodge him.

15th.—This is delightful weather; we ride from six to eight, A.M., and take a drive at four in the evening, returning to dinner at six, at which time a coal fire is agreeable. I am in stronger health than I ever before enjoyed in India, which I attribute to the cold weather and great exercise.

CHAPTER XXI.
LIFE IN THE ZENĀNA.

Devotees at the Great Fair—Wild Ducks—Quail shooting—Price of English Hounds—Col. Gardner—Life in the Zenāna—The Grass-cutter—Dūb Grass—The Gram-grinder—The Charkhī—Jack fruit—Duty of a Sā’īs—Arrangement of a Turban—The young Princes of Lucnow—Archery—Indian Bows and Arrows—Whistling Arrows—The Bows, Arrows, and War Hatchet of the Coles—The Pellet Bow—Witchcraft practised with a charmed Bow.

1832. Feb. 2nd.—I went to the Burā Mela, the great annual fair on the sands of the Ganges, and purchased bows and arrows, some curious Indian ornaments, and a few fine pearls. On the sands were a number of devotees, of whom the most holy person had made a vow, that for fourteen years he would spend every night up to his neck in the Ganges; nine years he has kept his vow: at sunset he enters the river, is taken out at sunrise, rubbed into warmth, and placed by a fire; he was sitting, when I saw him, by a great log of burning wood; is apparently about thirty years of age, very fat and jovial, and does not appear to suffer in the slightest degree from his penance. Another religious mendicant lies all day on his back on the ground, his face encrusted with the mud of the Ganges. The Hindoos throw flowers over them, and feed them, paying the holy men divine honours.

The fair this year is thinly attended, the people not amounting to a lākh, in consequence of the very heavy rain which fell throughout December last, and prevented many of those from attending who had to come from a very great distance.

25th.—I went with my husband into tents near Alumchund, for the sake of shooting; and used to accompany him on an elephant, or on my little black horse, to mark the game. Quail were in abundance, and particularly fine; common grey partridge, plentiful; a few black partridges, most beautiful birds; and some hares. Instead of dogs, we took twenty men with us, armed with long bamboos, to beat up the game; as for dogs in such high plantations, they are useless and invisible.

March 14th.—During the cold weather we collect wild ducks, and keep them for the hot winds. We have just finished a new brick house for the birds, consisting of a sleeping apartment, with a tank in front, in which they have a fine supply of running water; the whole surrounded by lattice work, covered with an immense climber, the gāo pāt, or elephant creeper, of which the large velvet-like leaves shade the birds from prying eyes[90]. Unfortunately, by some mischance or other, a jackal got into the place at night, and killed fifty out of one hundred: very unlucky, as the season for collecting them is nearly over, and we require wild ducks and teal during the hot winds, when beef and mutton are disagreeable, even to see on table; fowls, turkeys, rabbits, wild fowl, game, and fish, are the only things to tempt one’s appetite in the grilling season, when curries and anchovies are in requisition.

Speaking of wild ducks; we used to send out men into the jungle to catch them, which was performed in a singular manner. The man, when he got near water on which the wild fowl were floating, would wade into the stream up to his neck with a kedgeree pot upon his head; beneath this mask of pottery the birds would allow him to approach them without taking alarm, they being used to the sight of these thiliyas (earthen pots), which are constantly to be seen floating down the stream, thrown away by the natives. When close to a bird, the man puts up his hand, catches its legs, pulls it instantly under water, and fastens it to his girdle. Having caught a few, he quits the river, and secures them in a basket. The wild ducks are in beautiful condition, and very fine when first brought in. They pine and waste away in confinement for the first fortnight; then resigning themselves with all due philosophy to their fate, they devour barley with great glee, and swim about in the tank, eating principally at night. They must be surrounded by mats to keep them quiet and composed: in a short time they again become fat, and are most excellent. As soon as the rains commence, the wild ducks lose all their flavour; it is then better to open the door and let the survivors escape. They are good for nothing if kept for the next season. The teal are as good, if not superior to the wild ducks.

Quail shooting is now to be enjoyed; my husband and his companion bring home forty brace and upwards daily. The quail take shelter in the khets (fields, plantations) of jwār, millet, (andropogon sorghum,) and bājrā (panicum spicatum), from which it is difficult to dislodge them, and in which dogs are useless. The birds are driven out by some twenty-five or forty beaters, natives, armed with long latīs (male bamboos), with which they beat the high stems of the plants, and drive them out. Quail are sold twenty-five per rupee; if kept in cages, in darkness, and fed with kungnee-seed (panicum Italicum), they are excellent in the hot winds: when first caught, they are in high condition.

We hunt jackals in the grounds at Papamhow; and sometimes have a canter after a wolf in the ravines. The gentlemen have a pack of hounds: ten English imported dogs were added to the pack last year. It is disheartening to see those fine dogs die daily. The price now asked in Calcutta for English hounds is considered too high, even by us Indians, being fifty guineas a couple! Of the ten bought last year, two only are alive. Perhaps accidents have occurred; from ignorance at the time, that castor-oil, when not cold-drawn, is certain death to dogs. The natives have a great objection to using castor-oil medicinally when the seeds have been heated before putting them into the mill.

March 19th.—The arrival of Colonel Gardner pleased us greatly: his boats were anchored in the Jumna, under our bank. He came down from Lucnow to visit the quarries, in order to build a bridge for the King of Oude; and after having spent nine days with us, he departed for Benares. He is a great favourite at present, both with the king and the minister at Lucnow; and if he is allowed to retain the jagīr he now holds, upon the same terms for a few years, he will be a rich man. He deserves it all; we found him the same kind, mild, gentlemanly, polished, entertaining companion I have before described him. He was looking ill; but now that his fatigues are over, and he is once more at rest, he will soon recover. I requested him to inform me how native ladies amuse themselves within a zenāna, and he gave me the following account:—

“They have ponies to ride upon within the four walls of the zenāna grounds. Archery is a favourite amusement; my son, James Gardner, who is a very fine marksman, was taught by a woman.

“A silver swing is the great object of ambition; and it is the fashion to swing in the rains, when it is thought charming to come in dripping wet. The swings are hung between two high posts in the garden.

“Fashion is as much regarded by the Musulmāne ladies as by the English; they will not do this or that, because it is not the fashion.

“It is general amongst the higher and the middle classes of females in Hindostān to be able to read the Kuran in Arabic (it is not allowed to be translated), and the Commentary in Persian.

“The ladies are very fond of eating fresh whole roasted coffee. When a number of women are sitting on the ground, all eating the dry roasted coffee, the noise puts me in mind of a flock of sheep at the gram trough.

“The most correct hour for dinner is eleven or twelve at night: they smoke their hooqŭs all through the night, and sleep during the day.

“Nothing can exceed the quarrels that go on in the zenāna, or the complaints the begams make against each other. A common complaint is ‘Such an one has been practising witchcraft against me.’ If the husband make a present to one wife, even if it be only a basket of mangoes, he must make the same exactly to all the other wives to keep the peace. A wife, when in a rage with her husband, if on account of jealousy, often says, ‘I wish I were married to a grass-cutter,’ i.e. because a grass-cutter is so poor he can only afford to have one wife.

THE GRASS-CUTTER AND GRAM-GRINDER.

‎‏فاني پارکس‏‎

“My having been married some thirty or forty years, and never having taken another wife, surprises the Musulmāns very much, and the ladies all look upon me as a pattern: they do not admire a system of having three or four rivals, however well pleased the gentlemen may be with the custom.”

Colonel Gardner admired the game of “La Grace.” I requested him to take a set of sticks and hoops for the ladies of his zenāna: he told me afterwards they never took any pleasure in the game, because it was not the dastūr, the custom.

The account of the style in which affairs are conducted amused us exceedingly.

“I wish I were married to a grass-cutter!” To enable you to comprehend the sort of person to whom a begam, an eastern princess, wishes herself united, in order to avoid the pangs of jealousy, I introduce a portrait of Chungua, the grass-cutter of my horse Mootee, the Pearl of the Desert.

A cloth wrapped round the head in the form of a turban, and another cloth bound round the loins, is the usual dress of the lower orders, if dress it may be called. But it gives no idea of impropriety; the natural hue of the skin being of itself a sort of mahogany coloured covering.

Every horse has a sā’īs to groom him, and a grass-cutter to bring in his daily allowance of dūb-grass: this grass is a most luxuriant creeper; it is jointed, and shoots out to a surprising length, covering a great space of ground in the rains: the men grub it up close to the roots; nevertheless the portion that remains in the earth soon springs up, you cannot eradicate it: in the hot winds, the men grub up the roots, wash them, and give them to the horses: sometimes the people have to go four or five miles to bring it in, and are therefore exposed very much during the hot weather. Their pay is three rupees or three and a half per month, on which they feed and clothe themselves.

Doorba, doova, or dūb grass, (Linear bent grass, agrostis linearis, or panicum dactylon,) is thus described:—The flowers of dūb grass in their perfect state appear, through a lens, like minute rubies and emeralds in constant motion, from the least breath of air; it is the sweetest and most nutritious pasture for cattle, and its usefulness, added to its beauty, induced the Hindoos, in their earliest ages, to believe that it was the mansion of a benevolent nymph. Even the Veda celebrates it, as in the following text.

“May Durva, which rose from the water of life, which has a hundred roots, and a hundred stems, efface a hundred of my sins, and prolong my existence on earth for an hundred years.”

“Landed property is like the root of the dūb grass[91],” i.e. it is not easily destroyed.

Grass is to be procured in the bazār, but it is generally very bad, and the supply uncertain. In Calcutta, grass-cutters are not kept, as excellent hay is always to be purchased, which is much better for the horses.

“The pendant part of the turban should be in proportion to the learning[92].”

This will not exactly apply to grass-cutters and sā’īses, who generally wear a long end pendant from the turban. If the carriage comes to the door ere the sā’īs has arranged his clean turban, the fellow will come bounding along, absolutely flinging his turban around his head as he runs; and thus will often put it on with a negligent grace, that is quite inimitable, the long end usually hanging far below the shoulder. Chungua, the original of the sketch, was raised from being a grass-cutter on three rupees a month, to the dignity of a sā’īs on five, for his good conduct.

The woman sitting on the ground is the wife of one of our grass-cutters; she grinds the gram for the horses at two rupees a month[93]. The charkhī is formed of two flat circular stones, the lower of which is generally fixed in the earth, and from its centre a peg passes through a hole in the upper stone, and forms the pivot on which the upper stone works. In her left hand she holds a peg, which is fixed on the upper stone, by which she forces it round; the inner surfaces are rough; the gram is put in through a hole in the upper stone, and the flour works out at the edges between the two stones. The ornaments on her ankles are of pewter, and very heavy; they weigh six pounds; her bracelets and armlets of heavy solid brass. The petticoat and the part that goes over the head are only one piece of coarse cloth, bound like a petticoat around the limbs, and the end thereof brought over the head; it is called a sāree. The damsel is a Hindoo, and her garment is sometimes of a very dirty brown colour, and sometimes blue.

When there is much work to be done, two women will sit on the ground and grind the same mill, which is placed between their legs; this is the sort of mill spoken of in Scripture,—“Two women were grinding at the mill, the one shall be taken, and the other left.” Every native has a charkhī, and grinds his own corn. English corn mills were erected in Calcutta; they failed, I understand; as the natives objected to the grain brought by all castes of people being ground in the same mill.

The woman is seated beneath the kuthul, the jack or jake tree, (atrocarpus integrifolia); the fruit measures eighteen inches in length, by twenty-three and a half in circumference, and is covered with sharp small cones. The situation of the fruit varies with the age of the tree, being first borne on the branches, then on the trunk, and finally on the roots. The roasted seeds exactly resemble chesnuts: it is a species of bread-fruit. In the sketch, the fruit is placed both on the trunk and on the roots; I have never seen it on both at the same time, and have only thus placed it in the drawing to show the manner in which it grows upon the roots.

“The jack-fruit is upon the tree, and oil on your lips[94],” is a proverb used to express premature precautions.

This fruit has a very glutinous juice, on which account, those who pluck it previously rub their hands with oil; and if its adhesive juice remain on the lips after eating, it is removed by the same means.

I had made over a sā’īs of mine to a gentleman just arrived in the country ⸺; he wished to send his horse some sixteen miles, and desired the man to ride it, thinking the distance too great for him to lead the animal. The sā’īs came to me to complain; he wished to quit the gentleman’s service, saying, “You hired me, Mem sāhiba, to take care of the gentleman’s horse, and to lead him; he has no right to force me to ride him.” I told him the gentleman had just arrived in the country, and gave the order from a kind motive. “Ah well!” said the sā’īs, “if that be the case, I consent to stay in his service,—but not to ride the horse;” adding, with a contemptuous shrug and look of condescending pity, “if he has only just come from England, what should he know?”

How beautifully the natives put on a turban! The jamadar’s was most gracefully arranged this morning; I made him explain the mystery, and put it on before me. Those who wish to understand the true oriental mode of arranging a turban, may refer to [No. 22 in the Appendix].

Col. Gardner tells me that the two boys, Khema Jāh and Feredooa Buckht, whom I saw at Lucnow, and whom the King declared to be his heirs, are now out of favour, and are not allowed to enter the palace; I am glad that low caste boy has no chance of being raised to the throne. The King has taken another wife; his taste is certainly curious, she is an ugly low caste woman. The old Nawāb Hakīm Mehndi has the whole power in his hands; the King amuses himself sitting up all night and sleeping all day; leaving the cares of state to the Hakīm. The revenue, under his superintendence, has increased very considerably; the Hakīm’s passion is saving money, and he appears to take as much pleasure in saving it for the King as for himself.

Col. Gardner gave us some instructions in archery, for which we have a great penchant; nor could I resist going continually into the verandah, to take a shot at the targets, in spite of the heat—84°, or the annoyance of an ague and fever from which I was suffering. Archery, as practised in India, is very different from that in England; the arm is raised over the head, and the bow drawn in that manner: native bowmen throw up the elbow, and depress the right hand in a most extraordinary style, instead of drawing to the ear, as practised by the English. A very fine bow was given me, which was one of the presents made by Runjeet Singh to Lord Wm. Bentinck; it is formed of strips of buffalo horn, and adorned with bareilly work; when strung, it resembles the outline of a well-formed upper lip, Cupid’s bow.

During the rains, the natives unstring their bows, and, bending them backwards until they curl round almost into a circle, fix them between two slips of bamboo, until the rains are over, when they re-string them: the string of this bow is of thick silk. To bring back the bow to its proper form is a difficult affair; they warm it over a charcoal fire, and bend it back by fixing two iron chains upon it; after this it is usually strung by taking one end of the bow in the left hand, passing it behind the left leg, and over the shin bone of the right, then bending it by forcing the upper end round towards the opposite side; when the string, which has been previously secured on the lower horn, is slipped into its place by the right hand.

The quiver, which is of crimson velvet, embroidered with gold, is very handsome. The arrows are steel-headed, and bound with brass rings, to render the pile more secure; the shafts are made of beautifully smooth, straight, hard reeds; the heads are either plain, or of a fish-hook shape; and the whole are highly ornamented with bareilly work.

The natives do not draw the bow with two or three fingers, as practised in Europe; they make use of a thumb-ring, of which I have seen two kinds.

Whistling arrows are reeds, on which, in lieu of a pile of steel, a hollow bit of wood is affixed, in form not unlike a small egg; when shot perpendicularly into the air they produce a shrill whistling sound. Sometimes a slip of paper is rolled up and put into the hole in the head, when the arrow is shot into a zenāna garden, over the high wall, or into a fortress.

N.B. First consider, ere you shoot your arrow, if your beloved can read the enclosed epistle.

Bows, and very powerful ones, in shape like those of England, are also made use of in India; they are formed of one piece of bamboo, covered with ornaments in bareilly work, and strung with catgut; I have two of these, the largest measures four feet, the smaller three feet and a half.

The bow used by the Coles is of the same shape, made of one piece of black bamboo, the string a strip of cane. The Cole places one end of the bow on the ground, kneels on his right knee, and pressing his left foot against the bow, fires in that position.

The Cole quiver is of leather, the workmanship very coarse. The arrows, most villainous weapons, are double-barbed; one of them entering the flesh must be cut out, and it would be a severe operation to extract the double-barbed head, which is of rough iron; they are often poisoned in war. The shaft is a rough reed of the commonest sort, with three bits of feather tied upon the end of it; the length of the arrow from twenty-seven to thirty-five inches; nothing can be ruder than the workmanship.

The war hatchet carried by the Coles is a fearful-looking weapon; it is used to cut down horses in action: sometimes they fix it at the end of a long bamboo, to enable them to hamstring a horse at a distance. These weapons were taken during the Cole war, and presented to me.

For further information respecting the aboriginal inhabitants of India,—the Coles, the Bheels, the Gonds, the Khonds, &c., see [Appendix, No. 23].

A more particular description of the poisoned arrows, and of the bows used by the Hill-men, is inserted in another chapter.

The Pellet bow, in form like the common English bow, is strung with two catgut strings, which are confined above by a bit of wood, and below, in the centre, by a small cotton sling, which is woven in between the two strings. The pellet is placed in the sling, between the first finger and thumb of the right hand, which draws the bow, and lets fly the pellet.

At the instant the pellet is loosed, the wrist of the left hand should be turned to prevent the striking of the ball on the bow; the sling should be a little higher than the centre of the bow, or the pellet will be liable to strike the left thumb,—a painful accident.

The pellets should be made about the size of a large marble, of stiff clay, with which a little cotton-wool should be mixed, and dried in the sun.

The shikar-ke-tilee, ammunition-pouch, is of ornamented leather.

Sorcery is practised with a charmed bow. At a sŭtēē, bamboo levers are often brought down over the whole pile, to hold down the woman, and the corpse of her husband; and several persons are employed to keep down the levers, whilst others throw water upon them that the wood may not be scorched.

A person sometimes takes one of these bamboo levers after the bodies are burnt; and, making a bow and arrow with it, repeats incantations over it. He then makes an image of some enemy with clay, and lets fly the arrow at it. The person whose image is thus pierced is said to be immediately seized with a pain in his breast.

April 1st.—What would the people at home think of being up at five A.M., and in church by six o’clock! This is the usual hour for divine service at this time of the year. To us Indians, accustomed to early rising, it is no fatigue.

7th.—This morning I cantered down to see our fields of oats by the side of the Ganges, which they have just begun to cut; such a fine crop! When they are stacked, we shall have three or four large ricks.

CHAPTER XXII.
ADVENTURES IN THE EAST.

Gaiety of Allahabad—Lucnow Chutnee—Tails of the Yāk—Horn of the Unicorn—The Looking-glass Shawl—The first flight of Locusts—An Adventure—The Rats’ Granary—Balls—Profiles—The leaf Grasshopper—Appointed to Allahabad—Ramohun Roy—The Bottle of Horrors—Narrative of a Thug—The Quicksand—Meteors and falling Stars—Hanging oneself for spite—The Sipahī Guard—The Ghurī—The Sitar—The Ektara—The Gynee Club—Soonghees—Colonel Gardner.

1832, May.—Allahabad is now one of the gayest, and is, as it always has been, one of the prettiest stations in India. We have dinner-parties more than enough; balls occasionally; a book society; some five or six billiard-tables; a pack of dogs, some amongst them hounds, and (how could I have forgotten!) fourteen spinsters!

2nd.—Colonel Gardner has sent us twelve jars of the most delicious Lucnow chutnee, the very beau idéal of mixtures of sharp, bitter, sour, sweet, hot, and cold!

This station, which in former days was thought one of the least-to-be-coveted positions, has now become, what from the first we always pronounced it to be, one of the most desirable. We have a kind neighbourly society, as much, or even more of gaiety than we sober folks require, and, mirabile, no squabbling. I hope his lordship will not disturb our coterie by moving the Boards of Revenue and of Criminal and Civil Justice higher up the country, which some think not improbable.

A friend has made me a present of a pair of the most magnificent cow-tails, of the yāk or cow of Thibet. They are great curiosities, and shall go with my collection to England. These tails I have had made into chaunrīs by having them fastened into leaves of embossed silver, which have been affixed to the horns of deer of the Himalaya. The hair on the chaunrī (fly-flapper) is on the original bone as it was on the yāk; and the hair, which is perfectly white, is considered the most valuable, the dark coloured hair being reckoned inferior. They were brought by some Hill-men from Bhootan. The horns came from Landour, brought from the interior of the Himalaya, by the Pahārees (Hill-men). Three more of the same sort were also sent me from Almorah, but they are very scarce.

The horn is said to be that of a deer of the Himalaya, which, when first brought down, was supposed to be unicorn. These two horns came from Landour, brought down by Hill-men. Three more were sent me from Almorah. The men described the animal as having but one horn in the centre of its forehead; when questioned particularly on this point, they were firm; and, being ignorant that we believe the unicorn fabulous, could have no motive for the assertion. During my residence in the East, I saw only five of these horns, which are all in my possession, and not one of them will pair with another. The men were requested to bring the head of the animal with the horn upon it; they have not done so, and there is no further proof to convince unbelievers of the existence of the unicorn of the Himalaya. Chaunrīs of peacock’s feathers are emblems of royalty, and are used by servants in attendance on the Governor-general, who stand behind his chair and wave them over his head. The sā’īses carry them of horse-hair, to wisk the flies off the horses; and a very common sort are made of grass. Very beautiful white chaunrīs are also made of strips from the quill of the peacock’s feather. The chaunrīs are represented in the [frontispiece], over the head of Gănéshŭ. The Brahmans use them in pooja, waving them over the idol.

A lady has sent me a great curiosity—a common dark brown-red shawl, worn by low caste women at Hissar. It is worked all over in large flowers, in orange silk; the centre of the flower contains a circular bit of looking-glass about an inch and a half in diameter, round which the flower is worked in coarse silk. The appearance of the dress as the light falls on the looking-glass is most strange and odd. I never saw a shawl of the sort before. It is too coarse to be worn by any but poor people: when working in the fields, in what an extraordinary manner the light must be caught on all those reflecting circles of glass!

June 19th.—We drove into the Fort to call on a fair friend at 5 P.M. No sooner had I entered the house, than we saw clouds of locusts in the air: immediately afterwards a heavy storm of rain fell, and the locusts were beaten down by it in great numbers to the ground. The native servants immediately ran out and caught them by handfuls, delighted to get them to make a curry; for which purpose they may, perhaps, be as delicate as prawns, which are most excellent. I took some to preserve with arsenical soap: they look like very large grasshoppers. I never saw a flight of locusts before; on our return home the air was full of them.

The food of St. John in the wilderness was locusts and wild honey: very luxurious fare, according to the natives, who say, either in a curry or fried in clarified butter, they are excellent. I believe they divest them of their wings, and dress them after the fashion of woodcocks.

Some assert that St. John did not live upon locusts, but upon the bean of a tree called by the Arabs Kharroùb, the locust-tree of Scripture[95]—a point too difficult to be decided by a poor hājī[96] in search of the picturesque.

20th.—At 5 A.M. I rode out with a friend, and met the hounds under the Mahratta Bund; no other persons were present, and we had not gone twenty yards before two jackals crossed the road just before the dogs: away they went, in the prettiest style imaginable. Mr. B⸺ galloped off across a ploughed field: the horse had scarcely gone ten yards when his legs sunk into a deep soft hole; the creature could not recover himself; over he went, falling on his back, with his rider under him; and there the horse lay kicking with all four legs in the air for a short time, ere the gentleman had the power to extricate himself from under the animal. I was not five yards behind, and, jumping off my horse, went to his assistance. The blood was pouring from his mouth and nose, and his right shoulder was dislocated. Two natives came up. Leaving the fainting man in their care, I galloped off for a surgeon. During my absence, a medical man fortunately arrived at the spot: he found the gentleman senseless. Having set his shoulder and bled him, he put him into a palanquin, and sent him home. My search for a surgeon was unsuccessful for a length of time: at last I rode into the court of the Hospital at Kyd Gunge, in search of Dr. S⸺, when the first object I beheld was the corpse of a man being carried out, marked with blood on the head; it made me shudder: the medical man was just on the point of opening the head of a European, who had died suddenly. This was rather a nervous adventure and a frightful sight. My friend was so much stunned by the blow and the dislocation of his arm, he could make but feeble efforts to extricate himself from his horse. I thought at first he was killed by the way in which the two streams of blood poured from the corners of his mouth when I raised his head. It was unfortunate being alone at such a moment.

The rats during the harvest-time collect grain in holes; and the poor people dig wherever they think they may chance to find a rat’s store, for the sake of the grain: sometimes on one spot they find 20lb. weight secreted by these provident animals, generally in the midst of the fields. The natives steal the grain, and leave the holes open, which are very dangerous for horses. The place into which Mr. B⸺’s horse fell was an opening of the sort, filled by the rain of the day before with light mould, therefore he could not see he was upon treacherous ground. I escaped from being five yards in the rear of his horse; had he passed over, I should, in all probability, have gone in; the ground appeared perfectly good, instead of being like a quicksand.

The other night, for the first time up the country, I saw a glow-worm; it was very thin, about half an inch in length, and more like a maggot in a cheese than any thing else.

Aug. 14th.—Last week we were at a ball given by the officers of the 6th Native Infantry to the station; in spite of the heat, the people appeared to enjoy dancing very much, and kept it up until very late. A ball-room in India, with all the windows open, and the pankhās in full play, is not half so oppressive as a ball-room in London: the heat of pure air is much better than the heat of a number of persons, all crowded together and breathing the same atmosphere over and over again. Balls up the country take place principally during the hot winds and rains; they make a variety at a quiet station. During the cold months the people are dispersed on duty in divers parts of the district.

I amuse myself turning profiles in rous wood on my lathe; the likenesses of Buonaparte and the Duke of Wellington are good, because it is less difficult to turn a strong profile. I look at the drawing whilst turning the wood; when finished it is cut open, and the profile, if properly done, is exact.

Snakes are in abundance: I caught a small venomous whip-snake in my dressing-room to-day, and put it into the bottle of horrors. A lady stepped upon the head of one a short time ago; the reptile curled round her leg; when she raised her foot in a fright, it glided off, and was found half killed in the next room.

A great fire has taken place in the Fort in Calcutta; an immense quantity of stores have been destroyed in the magazine, report says to the amount of ten lakh. Some suppose the fire may have been occasioned by the cutting system having rendered the natives revengeful.

Sept. 2nd.—A number of beautiful butterflies have been caught for me in the garden; they are attracted by the lucerne grass, as well as the flowers. Some are very rich in colour, and very delicate. Amongst the insects collected, the most curious are the locusts, and the leaf-grasshopper—a marvellous insect! an immense grasshopper, with two wings exactly like narrow leaves, of a beautiful spring green, and two wings beneath them of the most delicate gauze. One might imagine two narrow leaves had been fastened on as wings to a grasshopper!

On the 11th of this month, the sāhib was appointed collector at Allahabad: the comfort of holding a fixed situation is great, and we rejoice exceedingly.

Our great Bengal Lion Rajah Ramohun Roy appears to have created no small sensation on the other side of the water. He is one of the few well-educated natives we possess, and is, decidedly, a very remarkable person. He holds his title of Rajah from the king of Delhi, the great Mogul, whose ambassador he is to the British Court in a suit versus John Company.

Extract from a homeward-bound letter.

“The Mem sāhiba’s present fureur, for she always has one darling passion for the time, is making a collection of butterflies and coleopteræ, she is deeply read in taxidermy, and we have, besides, many other prepared subjects, such as tigers, and hyenas’ skulls, alligator’s skeleton whole; a delightful little pet in spirits of wine, a young crocodile, skin and all. Then there is ‘The Bottle of Horrors!’ containing cobra de capello, scorpions, lizards, millepieds, centpieds, grillus monstrosus, and I know not what. Mephistopheles himself would be affrighted; and I, the Faust of this Margaret, am sitting in a quiet unconcern, smoking my cigar, as happy as if I was one of the party in the bottle, the daily object of admiration!”