Life and religion of the Hindoos.

by Joguth Chunder Gangooly

INTRODUCTION.

The chief object of the following book will be to treat of the religion of the Hindoos.

By religion of the Hindoos, I do not mean the genuine Hindoo religion which was prevalent in India in remote ages,—not the Hindoo religion as it was, but as it is; not what the Bathăs taught, or the Rheeshies lived under, but what the Shastars, Poorans, and Tuntros teach, and the mass, both the Brahmuns and other castes, observe to-day, as the “life and light,” and the absolute way to reach Goluck (pleroma of Krishto, Happiness). What mighty revolutions time achieves in the religious, moral, social, intellectual, and political conditions of men! Read the ancient Scripture of the Hindoos, observe the pure, sublime doctrines they inculcate, watch the Monees and Rheeshies in their cottages of light, attend the court of Ram, Kornos, or Joodhistres, and then come down to the Shastars and the Thejos of the present day. You will be surprised to see the spacious gulf of difference between them. A manifestation of sad change will greet your eyes wherever you cast them,—either on the religion, the language, the manners, or the customs of the people. This sad change has reached the very fibre and nerve of Hindoo life, both external and internal. A noble, large-minded Brahmun, the learned principal of the Government of the Sanscrith College, says in one of his books to this effect, that by careful examination we see the Hindoos of the present day appear quite different from those of ancient times, so much so, that they seem like a different race.

Look at the sad contrasts and corruptions. The ancients believed “om ākŏ mabŏ thee te ung;” in English, “there is one God, without a second.” Now the people have hosts of gods whom they daily worship! There was no caste system, none such as we see now,—a system which forbids any close social relations between the members of separate castes. The Brahmuns often used to dine and intermarry with the Khatryas.

We read in the Hindoo religious books that the Brahmuns were often entertained by other castes, thus: Doorbāsha eats the food cooked by Throw-pothee; Krishto, in a Brahmun attire, demands hospitality from Koxmo. Ogusth dines at Hillol and Bathaw-bee’s; Sacoontola gives her hand to Doosh montha. Instances of a similar nature could be cited by hundreds, which would clearly show that the ancient Hindoos had no such religion, manners, and customs as those of the present day. The ancient Hindooism, though far inferior to Christianity, is superior to, and more rational than, the Egyptian, Grecian, or Roman paganisms. Yea, by careful examination, a candid man would see that even Judaism, just as it is, is inferior to the spirit of Aurjā.

As I compare carefully the instructions, the ceremonies, the mode of worship, the representation of the Almighty in those two ancient religions, I should suppose that modern Judaism was the corruption of primitive Hindooism, and that in falling into the hands of the nations round Judæa, who had comparatively a dark faith of their own, and on account of its being associated with Christianity, it became the object of their admiration. If the true worship is that which is free from forms, but is in spirit and in truth,—if neither this mountain nor the temple is strictly the seat of God or the place of worship,—if God does not care for sacrifices or incense, but chooses a true and contrite heart,—then the religion which prescribes such forms, no matter when, how, or under what circumstances, is not equal to one which is entirely free from any form or ceremonies. To bring this matter to the light, I would try to illustrate it with distinctness. There is a theory diametrically opposite in its substance to that which the Jews and the Hindoos receive of their respective religions. Even most Christians adhere to the theory, that in the world’s infancy, when the children of clay were not prepared to receive a revealed religion, to digest strong food, the All-wise Creator gave the Jews the law, commanded them to build Him a temple, an altar, to offer sacrifices and burn incense unto Him. But the Brahminical theory is different. It says that Hindoos, in the Sootojoog, or the age of truth, built no marble temple to God, but dedicated the pure, the contrite heart as the seat of Brohmo; used no material offering or incense, but faith, gratitude, and love, in their worship of their Creator.

But in course of time, impurity and injustice increased “with the increase of human population,” the mind of man learned to admire the things around him. His eyes were dazzled with the products of art in its various forms. The life of simplicity gave place to luxury; the pursuit of worldly pleasures so much occupied the attention of man that it seemed impossible for him to spend time in mere speculation concerning an invisible Deity. Shastars came forth to remedy these corruptions, by introducing substitutes for the lost faith. Temples of marble or of precious stone, altars covered with silver and gold, and dazzling images, filled up the length and breadth of the country.

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The four great epochs, or the Zoogs, of the Hindoos, which show the peculiar features of the moral and religious condition of the people, have been treated of by several foreign writers. I would simply touch them in order to describe the changes therein. As I do not remember exactly the length of these Zoogs, how many years each contained, I would not dare to speak of them, but feel willing to bring out some leading points for our present use.

The first is called the Shorto, or the age of truth; the second is Treta, curiously called so, although it means “Third”; the third is Dwapur; and the fourth, or last, is Kolie, the age of darkness, sin, etc. In the Shorto Zoog, as we read in our ancient books, everything concerning the external or internal appearance of man indicated simplicity and peace. What we read of the simple, rural, righteous lives of Adam, Eve, and Abraham, was exactly so with the Hindoos of the first Age. Their dwelling stood upon peace, supported by pillars of brotherhood, and roofed by love. The inmates were simple in their dress, temperate in their food, childlike in their temper, pure in their affection, and strong in their faith towards God. The lion and the lamb met at the same crib in these cottages of love. No gods or goddesses were known or worshipped then except the Creator, “the Father of all.” They used to address each other by the terms debŏ, dabe, god and goddess, and to treat, regard, and recognize each other as the creations of Krishto, or by another word, the image of the same. All had the right to draw from out of the great source of spiritual comfort, the sacred Bāthos (Vedas). The loving Father, “Bisho Pitha,” the good spirit, “Porom Aut-on,” was alone worshipped, loved, held as sovereign, recognized everywhere and in every circumstance. Nothing was more earnestly and at first sought as the pearl of unspeakable worth, yea, more than that, as the true destiny, than the true manhood of piety, the path of righteousness, which leads men safely to the great terminus of our career,—the “Shorgo,” the Heaven of God. Other objects of life received but slight attention; the thought, What shall we eat, what shall we drink, and wherewithal shall we be clothed? did not overwhelm them, for they believed in their own proverb, “Those who walk in the path of righteousness get their bread even in midnight;” that is, they know no disappointment, and have hope and faith forever. It must be remembered here, that this proverb of the Hindoos is a parallel to, or at least conveys the same spirit, as that of Christ’s saying, “But seek ye first the kingdom of God, and his righteousness, and all these things shall be added unto you.” They were not indolent, however; they did not wait until ready-made “manna” would fall from the sky, but attended to husbandry, developed and used their energies to help each other, and at the same time lived a pious, unspotted life.

The following anecdote gives a fair idea of the life of the people of that pure age. Krishto once sent his brother to seek out a poor Brahmun, that he might give him some alms. Accordingly he started on his sacred mission, and encountered a Brahmun in a rice-plantation. He was diligently engaged in picking up the stray grains of rice that had fallen down to the holes in the ground, by means of a stick with some glue on the end of it. Boloram, the brother of Krishto, watched his proceedings a few moments, advanced towards the Brahmun, and addressed him in the following words: “Deleō! (god!) may thy servant know the motive that leads thy hands to seek grains from the furrows in the ground, and not from the waving, golden stalks before thee!” “Child,” the sage replied, “with little labor I can gather these grains from the furrows, and so I do. These stalks, as you see, I have reserved for those warbling tenants of the air, the children of the Most High, whose short bills would not reach the stray grains in holes.” “Blessed sire,” Boloram rejoined, “it will take a long time to gather enough for your daily meal. My brother solicits the hands of a Brahmun, to put some gold into them. Should thy hands leave the things here, and thy feet tread his court, thy servants would deem it a great favor.” He looked towards heaven with deep reverence, and, turning his loving eyes towards Boloram, said: “Smile of Heaven, crown him who loves his fellow-creatures! Child, God has bountifully furnished me with all I need to earn my living. There are others who are not thus blessed. Go to them, child, and entertain them with your brother’s charity.” Krishto, having a curiosity to know more of this Brahmun,—his “piety at home,”—determined to visit him in his cottage. Late in the afternoon, filling his basket with rice, the Brahmun came home; his wife washed his feet, and then cooked the rice. The husband came out to see if there were any guest at the door, and, not finding any, went in, bade his wife to sit at meal, and thanked God for the mercy shown unto them. In the same moment, Krishto, in the disguise of an old Brahmun, appeared at the cottage door and blessed the inmates. They did not touch their food then, but left their seats, and, folding their arms, with reverence addressed their guest. “Joy sheds its charms upon us, this floor is holy at thy touch. Welcome to it! Thy servants, with all they possess, wait for thy command.” Krishto replied, “Peace be to your children!” It would please Brohmo to see us three dine together under this roof, and sing his praise.” “As it pleases our lord, be it so,” said the pious couple. They then divided the food equally among them, and partook of it with gratitude toward the Giver of all. Proceeding no further, I would stop here to speak of other Zooga.

The Zoogas that succeed Shorto present a different picture altogether. Men have in some measure departed from the state of simplicity, and have made the frolics of Krishto, with his sixteen hundred female friends, immortal by their genius. Like the Old Testament God he too chooses a favorite people, Pandubas, walks with them in their sojourn in the wilderness, brings them back to a land of their own, excites and helps them to fight with their enemies, etc. At one time he tries the faith of Korna, asking him to offer his only child of five years unto him, as did Jehovah of Abraham.

The present age is the Kolie. We who live in it know of course its leading aspect, the “house divided against itself,” the children rise against their parents; unnatural affections and disappointments come thereby; ambition, injustice, selfishness, disregard to holy things, have attained their full power. In the place of one God, the Hindoo worships millions; temples, pagodas, altars, are seen everywhere.

This is the dark age of the Hindoos. The following is an anecdote describing the transition between the Zoogas. In order to teach his favorite servant the knowledge of things, and store his mind with various experiences, Krishto accompanied him to take a survey over the world. They came to a farm where two men, apparently tired, begged them to stop for a moment and help them to adjust a matter that was troubling them very much. The one was a Brahmun, the owner of the farm, and the other a laborer hired to work upon it. As the latter was ploughing the ground, he accidentally turned out a large jar with pearls and jewels in it. Thanking God for his mercy, he ran to the Brahmun with the utmost speed, and informed him of the treasure. He came to the spot and saw the tale was true. The Brahmun told the workman to carry the wealth to his own house, for he saw it first; but he would not, fearing it would be a sin to take away the money found in another’s land. Thus both exhausted their logic in their attempts to convince each other as to his lawful right to the treasure; but to no purpose. Krishto did not mind their appeal, and proceeded on his journey. Shortly after, he returned, and saw both the Brahmun and the workman fighting and bruising each other. Each claimed the wealth. The Brahmun says it was found on his farm, therefore it belongs to him. The workman says he first found it, and it ought to be his. Krishto turned to his servant, and said, “Do you notice the change? It was just before the transition of the Zoogas that the man found the money. It was when self was little regarded; now it is another age when self becomes dominant and exercises absolute sway. The very man who refused the money then is fighting for it now. Look at the change, child.”

The purity, self-denial, innocence, that once graced their lives and homes, now seem restless, as if disgusted with their abodes, and ready to migrate to some more genial sphere. Here and there the banner of ambition floats on the palaces. Luxury succeeds; display and injustice dethrone charity. The heart ceases to be the temple of God. Its every corner is occupied by strange, unchaste, delusive propensities, found where nobler aspirations once dwelt. The altars are to be seen here and there, the offerings of beasts are dedicated unto the gods, ritualism takes the place of the worship in spirit. The great actors upon the stage are Rama and Rabōna, one a god and the other a monster. The conduct of Rabōna was such, that it filled the earth with fear. Both the Shoors and the Oshoors (gods or good men, and the monsters or cruel tyrants) trembled at his presence. The complaints against him grew universal; the gods solicited protection and the interposition of the great Rama, who alone had the power to check the tyrant Rabōna. Accordingly the incarnation of Bishto appears in the world to pour out a healing balm over its injured people. Now it was foretold that the age of Rama will be called Trita, the Third, but the condition of the world demanded his advent earlier, so the age he lived in, though second, being the immediate successor of the First, or Shoto, retained the name Trita, fulfilling the prophecy thereby. We are introduced to Dawpur now, which means the second. What the world sowed in the age previous is coming up luxuriantly in this, but the harvest is by and by. The Trita sows the seeds of confusion, injustice, impurity, ambition; the Dawpur waters them, and the Kolie gives the increase. Among others the chief actor on the stage is Krishto, another incarnation of Bishto. His mission in this is rather delicate in its nature. After the display of heroic deeds to relieve the world, which was groaning under the heavy yoke of Rabōna, he feels tired; perhaps comes to refresh himself, and spend his time in marriage, music, and romance. Handsome in person, a god in nature, active in movements, a good musician, he casts a net of charms around a host of young women, and draws them all out without breaking the net or sinking the vessel. Hindoo legends say that the prime object of his learning to play his Banay was to sing the praise of Radha, wife of Awe-an, and who is also his own wife from eternity.[8]

How much Christianity is needed to regenerate the Hindoos will be shown when I treat of their idolatrous worship, festivals, etc., in the following pages. The great mass of the people, properly speaking, have no idea of God, true humanity, and a future life. In this country, I notice the death of men does not excite so great a horror as it does among the Hindoos. A Christian mother calmly resigns herself to the decree of her God, and commits her treasures to His safe keeping; for she has hopes of meeting them again in her “Father’s mansion.” But I have seen Hindoo mothers who in their ignorance beat their breast, and curse their gods, at the death of their children! They believe that death breaks the chain of love and affection forever! My mother is in the habit (as is common with the Hindoo women) of weeping over the sad remembrance of her lost children and brother: and I used to comfort her by saying, there is a future state where they from the east, west, north, and south will meet in their common home. Indeed, Brahminism is dry, mysterious, sensual, contradictory in itself, and, with its various forms, pleases the senses, but does not meet the thirst of spirituality. It does not, or rather cannot, guide the mistaken, humble the proud, comfort the sorrowing, and teach us in all the vicissitudes of life to repose our trust in the saying, “Thy will be done.” It has sanctioned the worship of thirty-three million of gods and goddesses, most of whom you will find in this world, and in the sky. Of course the Brahmuns say they do not worship these hand-made idols; these are only the representatives of the unseen deities; but the lower castes, the large portion of the people, take them for the gods themselves. I admit the Brahminical ordinances have some hidden beauty underlying them; but the time has come when everything which aims to promote the temporal or spiritual condition of man ought to be as clear as spring, as accessible as air, and as bright as the sun. Certainly the time has come for the dim lights, here and there, to be absorbed by the great salutary Light,—for the return of the erring children to their Father’s home, that they may bend their knees before the throne of Grace.

Being born and trained in a Brahmun family, I well know the magnitude of its superstitious life. Almost every day you will hear of the institution of a new mode of worship, and the discovery of some new idol. The people, especially the young men, are tired of these things. Being educated in the missionary and government schools, under the influence of European knowledge, these young men prove strong obstacles to the bigoted Hindoos in their discovery of new idols. I know hundreds who used to drag the images from their seats, and place them somewhere in the road, fields, or some dirty places. On my way to a friend’s house, with an image of Shalgram, I looked at it to see whether a trace of divinity or life could be seen in it or not; and finding but a round, smooth, black pebble, I dropped it on the ground. The poor senseless thing fell into a bush, and I had to hunt for it nearly ten minutes. Not only enlightened young men do such things, but some priests themselves place and replace idols for their own interest. In Krishto-poor, a village nearly twelve miles northwest of Calcutta, there is a stone image of Shiba, which they say is full of life, power, and compassion. Whether it is naturally so, or carved to signify this, I cannot tell. It has a rough, thorny surface. A story says that the “mool-shun-ash” (head votary) had been sick of small-pox for several days, and in the night before the Shun-ash, the god, took the small-pox in his own body, enabling thereby the sick man to join the festival. Some one, hoping to secure the living idol in his own hand, and to trouble its former priest, stole it away in the gloom of night, and it was not seen for years. They erected another in its stead, but lately the old fellow, tired of seclusion, lone and homesick, came again to his former place.

Now I will begin to treat of the Hindoo worship, religious festivals, and ceremonies; and, to aid the reader, I will describe the circumstances which gave rise to these things. Foreign writers describe them as they see them outwardly. Each of them has some meaning, good or bad, rational or foolish. To narrate these things in order and precision, I will begin from the month Bois-ak, April, which is the first month of the Hindoo year, and will describe the holidays, festivals, worships, etc., that come in the successive months. It ought to be said here, that, owing to the changes in the almanac, the increase or decrease of the days in the month, the holidays sometimes vary their time; thus the car of Juggernauth is drawn on the 27th of June, or sometimes early in July.

CHAPTER I.
BOIS-AK, APRIL.

The New Year’s Day.—The Change of Account-Books.—Sacred Choir.—Dedication of Water-Pitcher.—Women’s Ceremony.—Way-side Hospitality.—The Idols in Water.

Although there are months many and days many, the Hindoo regards some with peculiar reverence, believing they have in their very nature some efficacy and sacredness which others have not. The acts of benevolence, charity, and devotion performed in them will be of more value than the same things done at any other time; thus a gift to a Brahmun in the day of full moon would be more efficacious, bear more fruit, than at any other time. As I have determined to state the significance of some of the Brahminical institutions, I would ask the reader to fix his eyes on the prudence and somewhat innocent cunning of the learned priests. As Brahminism regards faith as fruitless unless manifested in deeds, it joins some acts of charity to every form of worship or devotion. Now the poor people cannot possibly offer gifts or bring sacrifices to the temple often. For their convenience some especial months, days, or hours have been selected that they might do something, which is, after all, “better than nothing.”

Three months out of the twelve are regarded comparatively sacred by the Hindoos; viz. Bois-ak, Kartic, and Magh,—April, October, and January. Bois-ak and Magh are the most sacred. The former commences the Hindoo new year, and everything assumes a new aspect. The merchants, the storekeepers settle the accounts of the past year, by paying their debts and receiving their payments. The stores and offices are fancifully decorated; the scales and weights are washed and worshipped; debtors and all customers are invited to spend the evening, &c. In the evening the store is beautifully illuminated. The head-clerk or the master himself sits on the cushion with a writing-desk and account-books before him, in which he enters the names of those who pay their debts in part or full. Some, as an expression of good-will, deposit money in advance; while others, on the contrary, cannot pay their real debts, and consequently miss the cakes, sweetmeats, fruits, and music with reluctance. However, on the whole, with the inability of some, and the liberality of other customers, the book commences the year cheerfully. On the head of the first page of each book two round figures are marked with red and yellow powders. Every day the book begins by depositing a little money to some deity, and at the close of the year this little money is accurately collected and disposed for the worship.

During the sacred month, a band of singers, composed of from two to six persons, comes to the door early in the morning to sing a hymn. They get some compensation at the end of the month. Sometimes two or three parties come at a time; and one sings while the others wait. It would be an irreligious act to turn them out; whether you care for them, and wish to hear their music, or not, it would not make any difference. The fact is, the praise of the gods is to be sung at the door of each Hindoo. Sometimes a man or low-caste woman comes to the door to do what a Christian is strictly forbidden to do, that is, to take the name of the Lord in vain. One hundred and eight times the name of Krishno is repeated in different ways!

Dedication of Water-Pitcher.—On the first day of this month the Hindoos of all castes dedicate ghut, or pitchers, to the gods, deceased forefathers, &c. These ghuts are earthen, brazen, or silver, according to the circumstances of the dedicator. The common belief of the people is this, that the ancestors, long since dead, feel thirsty in the hot Bois-ak, and the water thus dedicated by sacred words (mon-tro) will be beneficial to them. The ignorant mass believe so, otherwise they would not do anything of the kind. But the prudent priest will tell you that in the honor, and to the name of, and as a token of respect to, the deceased fathers, we dedicate these and distribute them to the Brahmuns. There is no particular number of the ghuts. It varies from three to any indefinite number. They are all placed in rows, with trays full of fruits on their tops. The first is offered to the favorite god; the second, to the dead or living pastor, gooroo,[9] of the worshipper; the third, to the father, if he is dead; the fourth, to grandfather, &c. In this way, following the thread of genealogy, they go, step by step, to a great distance back, both on the paternal and maternal side.[10]

In this month, the Hindoo women perform religious ceremonies of various sorts. These differ according to the age of the females. The maids, that is the girls under seven, eight, or nine, perform those of an elementary character, which initiate them into higher grades of religious observances. For the amusement of my Christian sisters, I will narrate some ceremonies performed by my sisters in Bengal. “Jom Pooker” (Pluto’s Tank) is a vat dug in the earth, nearly three feet square and one foot deep; some water-lilies are planted in it, small alligators and sharks made of earth are put in also; the images of Pluto are placed on the four corners of the tank. Before breakfast the young girl comes, to worship the tank, with flowers. Sitting by it she pours a little water into the tank, then puts flowers on the head of the Plutos, offering prayers in poetry. Here is the translation: “I worship this tank of Pluto. As a reward, I will feed on cream-cakes on plates of gold, and wear shun-kho forever.” In the afternoon is the worship of Shā jooty. There is a large collection of drawings on the floor. This custom is good, in one respect at least, for it requires the girls to draw the pictures of houses, animals, rivers, boats, trees of all sorts, carriages, temples, gods, sun, moon, &c. every day.

The accompanying plate contains “Shā Jooty,” with the pictures as drawn by the Hindoo girl. She uses prayers in rhyme, and I will translate one which she offers to Shiba: “O, good Shiba, grant that I may not fall in the hands of a dunce.”

Now I will leave the girls and see what the married women do in the sacred month. To speak of the matter intelligently, I must proceed in order, because they observe a great many ceremonies from the morning to the afternoon. Where do those women go, with flowers in their little baskets and small pitchers in their hands? They go to bathe in the river; let us follow them and watch their proceedings. See, they take a little water in their hands and sprinkle it over their heads before they go in. The reason is, they deem it sin to touch the sacred Gunga by the foot; but as they have got to go in, they put a little water on the head as a token of reverence, and slowly say, “Mother, forgive!” There you see they turn their faces towards the north as they dive. There are reasons for this too. In the north there is the mountain, Hymalaya, from which the river rises; and, again, it is desirable to have the sun on the right. Facing north, they pay respect to both sacred objects at the same time. What do they put flowers in the water for? That is the way in which the Hindoos worship their gods. Look at the right, a little way off, and you will see the men are doing the same. When I was a little boy, I used to go to bathe with my father, and pick up the beautiful flowers, the rose and lotus, as they floated on the silvery water of the Ganges. But there are other ways of getting flowers; you need not take the trouble of picking them up; simply take one flower from the water, set it on the basket, and the basket with its contents will be yours. Or you may do this: touch the basket with your toe, or smell a flower and drop it over the others. I hated to do such things because it would only trouble the worshippers as well as show our own indecency.

The women have done their bathing and worship; they are filling their brazen and copper pitchers with water; not for their own use; you will see in a minute what they do with it. Strange! why do they walk round that large tree? And what a splendid tree is that! That is the Bannian. I dare say in your geography there is mention of this sacred tree of the Hindoo. They call it Burr, and hold it sacred, for in the time of the universal deluge, their god, Un-un (the Endless) had floated on a Burr-leaf. The fact, although merely a poetical one, has placed the tree in the rank of the gods. The Hindoos, as you have seen before, worship it, adorn the stem with flower-wreaths, paint it with all sorts of powders, and water the roots with great care. They do not cut and use the banian wood for fuel. When it grows old, decays, or dies, only one Brahmun out of hundreds would be willing to use it. The laws of the Hindoos protect it, and a fine or some other punishment is inflicted upon a person who should chop it with an axe. But a Brahmun can do it without experiencing any trouble. I think it is an admirable law which protects such a shady tree as Burr. The learned men call it a natural curiosity. Those cord-like roots, now hanging in the air, will, a few years hence, reach the ground and form new stems.

We have followed the Hindoo women back to their houses, now let us patiently witness the rest of their superstitious observances. There, you see, as they go they bow down to the gods of “wood and stone,” which crowd the sides of the streets and highways in India.

The servant brings a cow, which these mistaken women would worship, as you will see. First of all, the worshipper pours water on the feet of the cow, as she cannot wash them in any more convenient way; then she puts some oil and yellow powder on her forehead; and gives her some fresh, green grass and bananas to eat. The reason why they worship the cow is this: it is believed that “Doorga,” the great goddess, once took the form of a cow, at another, the form of a hawk, and, again, the form of a jackal, and the Hindoos worship them on that account. How much reverence is paid to the cows, and with what care they are treated, will be described by and by.

Fol go-chāno (Gift of Fruits).—This religious act is performed by giving some kind of fruit, a poetha, and a little money to a Brahmun. This ceremony has its order. In the first year the girl offers a nut, a banana in the second, a cocoa-nut in the third year. After the expiration of the term, the Brahmun who had received the first nut will be entertained at dinner and get a suit of clothes.

Bois-ak Champaka receives its name from the month in which it is observed, and the flower champaka, which is put into a Brahmun’s hand to smell. The women take a vow to feed a Brahmun luxuriously every day in this month. As they are forbidden to eat or drink anything until the Brahmun has been fed, and as it often happens that he is not to be found, they secure him by the invitation the day before. Sometimes a Brahmun gets several invitations in one day, but he accepts only the one which comes first. When he comes in, his hostess washes his feet, wipes them with her un-chol, the border of the dress, and leads him to a room where he is entertained with all the dainties of the season. Frequently a funny affair at this time takes place in the dining-room. As the custom is for a Hindoo woman to keep silence and veil her face before almost all persons, and as it is a natural desire in young men to see her face, or hear her voice, especially if she is young, the Brahmun guest plays several tricks to accomplish his end. He would not eat heartily, but merely put his hand on this and that, or cut a piece of cake with his teeth as if he had no appetite; hoping his youthful hostess would beg him to help himself. In such cases, she who is faithful to, and a sincere observer of all the rules and discipline of her sex, goes out for a moment to bring some elderly woman with her, who acts her part, though to the utter disappointment of the guest. But if she be regardless of the regulations, and wants a pretext, in that case everything goes on very nicely. He then washes his hands and face after dinner and sits down to rest a little, when she gives him some money to pocket, a few flowers, Champaka, to smell, and fans him for four or five minutes.

Matha Bantha comes in the afternoon. Each woman invites one to visit her house, whom she entertains in the following manner. In the first place she anoints her guest with perfuming oil, combs and fixes her hair, and gives a lunch of cakes and confectioneries. The guest is always from the Brahmun caste, but no widow is entertained on the occasion. There are others of the same kind, but I omit them, for, as I fear to increase the bulk of my book, I would use a limited supply of my materials.

The Way-side Hospitality.—It has been observed before that the Hindoo religion teaches some truth, and inculcates acts of charity, in various ways, which at the first appearance look mysterious and foolish. Thus the dedication and distribution of the water-pitcher, fans, umbrellas, etc., in this fiery month, has some visible good meaning. We can see the loving heart of its founder underlying them all. But I am sorry to observe that most of the charitable acts of the Hindoos do not fall like the dews of heaven, blessing the widows, the orphans, and the needy in general. A man desiring to give alms out of his limited means, would pass “the poor, the lame, the blind, and the halt,” unnoticed, and offer his gift to a Brahmun, whether he be the true object of charity or not. The wayside hospitality, as an act of love, deserves commendation. Although it is a “respecter of persons,” it assumes an aspect of universality, and sheds its light over people of all classes, colors, and creeds; even the irrational creatures, the beasts of burden, are recipients of its blessings. Cottages are built by the side of the roads, where the tired passengers refresh themselves, by means of the hospitality of private individuals.

Each cottage has a hired host who asks the passer-by to walk in and be rested. The Brahmuns very rarely go to such places, for it does not seem respectable to them to partake of a charity so public. Low-caste passengers resort to these places, and are entertained with sugar, wet peas, and cold water. Large tubs with water in them are placed outside of the cottage for the cattle and other beasts of burden.

The Hindoos bathe their idols every day in this month. The reason for doing this will be easily known. In this warm month, the Bengalees (most of them at least) bathe themselves twice a day; the young children swim in ponds; even the cattle are led to the water and are bathed. The Hindoo is taught to “serve others like himself,”—“auttio buth sabā,”—so when he feels hungry, thirsty, tired, sleepy, warm or cold, he believes the idols do the same, and he ministers to them under these circumstances as he would like to be ministered to. Hence the images have warm clothes for winter and thin for summer; they are provided with all the necessary comforts of the season. The mode of bathing the idols is the following. After offering the dinner to the gods of stone or metal, the priest puts them on a copper vessel, burying them under fragrant flowers of various kinds, and another vessel with water in it is hung right over the whole. This has some small holes at the bottom, through which water drops on the gods below and keeps them cool thereby. Toolshee, a favorite plant of Krishto, is treated in the same way, only it is not put in a copper vessel. The priest, who has the care of a great many idols in different places, walks round in the evening to take them out of the water, wipes them with towels, and offers them some luncheon to eat. In wealthy families this meal is very luxurious, capable of feeding twenty persons with all the varieties of fruits and confectionery. As this lunch is sent to the Brahmun families, the low castes cannot partake of its contents unless the receiver gives them a little. In a place where there are two or three fame-seeking rich men, the dishes compete with each other to the satisfaction of the Brahmuns, who, of course, get a great deal on this occasion. There are two ways of disposing of the contents of the dish; the one, as I have observed, in sending it to the houses of the Brahmuns in turn, and the other in inviting them to refreshments in the evening.

If the weather be insufferably warm in May, no water or luncheon will be offered unto the idols; the first and last days of April are two impassible limits, which seem to say, “Thus far shalt thou come and no farther.” Again, the poor lowest castes cannot be the direct recipients of this charity. They carry the loaded dish by the cottage whose inmates are in poverty, fasting, and helplessness, and leave it at the door of a priest. As I reflect upon the inferiority of the low caste to the Brahmuns, and think that the Hindoos hate to set anything before them which belongs to the priest, I remember the saying, “Give not that which is holy unto the dogs.” The low caste is just as polluted to a Brahmun as an unclean beast. If a Brahmun carelessly touch a dog, he will wash himself, and in case he touch a shoemaker or hog-keeper, the same precaution is to be taken!

Thus ends Bois-ak the first month of the Hindoo year, doing good to the people in general, but caring more for the favored caste, the Brahmuns. The heavenly wisdom says, “God is no respecter of persons.” He maketh His sun to rise upon the just and unjust. It tells us to invite, not the proud, rich, and high, but the poor, the lame, the blind, the halt; for such are the true objects of our love and sympathy,—through these channels our love ought to flow like a stream, to soften the parched and dry ground.

CHAPTER II.
JO-ISTO, MAY.

The Worship of Shus-ty.—Son-in-law invited.

This month has only a few leading religious observances which have no sanction in the Shasturs. The worship of Shus-ty, the watching goddess of the babies, is entirely a female affair. The men pay very little homage to her although they regard it as sacred and help the women in its arrangements. It can be easily understood why this goddess is worshipped, from the fact that the mothers and would-be mothers take much interest in the worship; the childless widows take no part in it. Shus-ty means sixth, from the day in which she is adored. It will be remembered that on the evening of the sixth day after the birth of a child this goddess is worshipped with much ceremony; and whenever her general worship comes, it does so on the sixth day of the full moon. Sometimes her image is placed in the water, at others in some conspicuous place in the house. This is quite different from other modes of worship, in regard to some of its peculiarities. A large quantity of plantain, some bamboo leaves and banian leaves are particularly needed.

At the house of some venerable matron, who is widely known for her devotion to the religious ordinances, the women from the neighborhood congregate, bringing with them their respective babies, that they may receive the benediction from the officiating matron. Each woman brings also some raw rice, a certain number of plantains, and a few stitches of cotton thread, which latter they color with yellow powder, and put on round the neck or arms of the children. The fashionable adults do not like to wear this clumsy wet thread on their arms; the mother, by persuasion or force, touches their forehead with this consecrated symbol, and wears it round her own arm for a fortnight, but often she loads her yielding child with the share of those who have refused. The thing which stands as the representation of the goddess is a churning-stick made of bamboo, or sometimes a mill-stone. In some villages there are statues of Shus-ty made of “wood and stone.” The honored matron scatters flowers, green leaves, powders, etc., on the image, bathes it with Ganges water, and offers it food to eat, which it cannot do in any visible way. At the close she recites a legendary anecdote of Shus-ty’s kindness to the children committed to her care by consecration, and her displeasure over those not duly dedicated to her. Of course, this fills the heart of Hindoo mothers with joy,—that is the thought of having had their children put under the protection of Shus-ty, whose blessing will help them to grow in stature and in life![11] On this occasion, the Hindoos invite their sons-in-law to attend the worship. It is a general custom, from the highest to the lowest castes, to entertain their sons-in-law in their houses. It is entirely a matter of social pleasure in its very nature, but, being attached to the worship of the goddess, is considered as a religious institution. If a man has five married daughters he sends letters of invitation to their husbands. In case of one being absent from home, his portion of the entertainment, composed of a handsome present of dress and confectioneries, will be forwarded to his parents. Not only to the husbands of daughters is such hospitality shown; it extends in different ways to the husbands of cousins and nieces. When every family in the town has been crowded with these welcome guests, a neighbor invites his friends’ sons-in-law. Thus every house wears a garment of festivity. The music and sports are everywhere. If it be the first visit to his father-in-law’s house after his marriage, the young man is taxed very much. He is bound by the custom of the place to entertain a pleasure party in a feast. As the women do not meet with men in social gatherings, an extra arrangement is made in the inner department of the house for their satisfaction. It is worth while to observe how in these social pleasures and amusements the Hindoo cannot attain that degree of sociability and love which the Christians have. After eighteen months’ stay in America, I can imagine the magnitude of the grand time which this people would enjoy on occasions like this of the Hindoos. In this country, the music, dancing, speeches from both sexes contribute much to the ordinary enjoyments of life, but among the Hindoos the case is quite different. In their festivities or social pleasures we see a conflict between the natural affection and artificial regulations. While one draws toward another with that brotherly love which is implanted in every breast by nature,—the caste system with its hideous features stretches forth its hand to keep them asunder. It spreads four seats, and sets four separate tables for men of four distinct professions. If a man of high caste carelessly treads upon the place where the low castes sit at the meal, he will bathe immediately.

CHAPTER III.
AUSH-ER, JUNE.

The Bath of Jogger-nauth.—The Worship of the River Gunga.

It has been observed in the beginning of this book that the structure of modern Hindooism is the work of time. The fancy, ignorance, and interest of men have decorated its different parts with golden hues which fascinate the senses, and satisfy the minds of the weak. After the laying down of the corner-stone it has received abundant supply of forms and new institutions from various quarters, and consequently grown fast and bulky within a few hundred years. Although it has grown old it retains a healthy, youthful vigor, keeps on growing, and will continue to do so until the “pure and undefiled religion” shall strike like thunderbolts on its thousand cemented headstones, and reduce its tall form to the very base which stands on simplicity, truth, and love.

The bath of Jogger-nauth is comparatively a new institution, and owes its birth to a fictitious legend. There is a great temple of Jogger-nauth in Orissa on the sea-shore above Madras. The images of Jogger-nauth, Bollo-ram his brother, and Shoo-vothra, his sister, are costly, but very awkward, made of a peculiar kind of wood called Nimbh. All other Hindoo idols are beautifully constructed in male or female human figures, quite unlike these of Jogger-nauth and his friends, which look neither like man, woman, horse, nor dog. A great many of the Hindoos make fun of Bisho-corma (Universal Artist), who is believed to have built the temple and image of Jogger-nauth. Here is the remark: “The construction of Jogger-nauth has displayed the poor taste of Bisho-corma in delicate arts.”

However, the homeliness of the image does not interfere with the reverence and love which the people have for it. I have heard the remarks of those who had visited Jogger-nauth, saying: “That when on our way, which is long, inhospitable, and uncomfortable, I said, Let not my enemy whose ill I seek after come this way; but standing before the gate of the temple, I exclaimed, Would that I had the millions of stars for my eyes, that I could see the ‘moon-like face’ of the god! O, let the mothers forsake their babies, husbands their wives, and wives their husbands, and come to feast themselves on the sacred graces of Jogger-nauth.” It is very natural that they should say so, for there are two ways which guide us in our decision in regard to beauty and accomplishment. To some the external beauty of an object takes the place of an internal accomplishment; while to others the inward accomplishment, tenderness, and purity of character stand instead of the outward beauty of the casket. When we are quite pleased with some charming object, we are apt to take for granted what is not visible in it. And again, when we see an object through the glass of love, it stands before our eyes, if not before the world, with a charm which is rarely visible to others. There is a fine anecdote illustrative of this. A handsome Bengal young man was ridiculed by his friends for his love of a homely woman, whose fine mental and moral culture was unrivalled. The young man begged them to see her through his loving eyes.

The Hindoos sincerely believe that Jogger-nauth is the great god of the universe, and is full of mercy, grace, and goodness. Hence they overlook the outward defects, and are satisfied with what there is within. An eminent Bengalee gentleman of Calcutta, in one of his books, says: “What a pity it is that a diamond of inestimable worth should sparkle on the forehead of an ugly idol of Orissa.” For the information of those who might not have a chance to see a Jogger-nauth, I would describe it just as it is, for it is invariably constructed in the same way everywhere. Its face is circular, and contains an area which would hold almost its whole body; the place where the nose grows is as level as a prairie, his eyes resemble pretty much the Indian snow-shoes in shape, and his arms are mere stumps. I have said before that Jogger-nauth has great influence over the Hindoos, even the obstinate caste system prostrates itself down in his presence. Myriads of men and women visit Orissa annually to attend to the bath and the car of Jogger-nauth ceremonies, which follow each other within a month’s interval. The Jogger-nauth, no matter what it is in substance, is a name of significant meaning, “the Lord of the Universe.” Jogguth, with various endings, is the common name of persons in India, thus: Joggo Bundhoo, Friend of the Universe; Joguth Chunder, which is my name, means the Moon of the Universe.

Within the enclosure of the temple there is no respect to castes; and that which destroys caste is freely recognized. In the “aunundho bazzar,” market of joy, which is within the enclosure of the temple, the Hindoos of every caste would eat of one dish, and what is more surprising than that, is to see them walk with rice-curries in their pocket, and putting some into each other’s mouth as they pass. But I am sorry to say, that, though brotherhood, the sense of equality, the disregard to castes, is felt and allowed within the walls which surround the temple, no sooner do the people come out of the enclosure than this levelling influence dies an instantaneous death! I have often asked of my Hindoo friends, that if it pleases Jogger-nauth to see love and equality cherished in us for one another, why cannot we do that wherever we live,—at our homes in Bengal as well as in his temple in Orissa? Wherever be our bodies, we are before his presence; the walls cannot hide us from his sight. If he is God Almighty, his eyes will easily penetrate the massive walls to watch his children without.

The bath of Jogger-nauth, as a public religious institution, was unknown to them of olden times. The following circumstance gave rise to it. Jogger-nauth, in disguise of a boy, had come to bathe in the sacred river Ganges. He chose Mahesh, a place fourteen miles above Calcutta, for his appearance. Taking some refreshment at the store of a confectioner named Kalli Shunker, he gave him a golden ornament in exchange, and in a minute disappeared from the store. As a testimony to his divine presence there, a large Nimbh tree bore blossoms of Champaka. The people were surprised beyond measure to see such a miracle wrought on the tree, but none could conceive of the agency which thus manifested its power. The priest of Jogger-nauth not finding the ornament in the person of the god, began to search the temple, bedroom of the idol, etc., for it. Careful inquiry was made in the temple; some junior officers were suspected as having stolen the “sacred property.” In the night the chief Panda, votary, saw Jogger-nauth in a dream, and heard him speak as follows: “I had been to bathe in the Gunga yesterday, where at the store of Kalli Shunker, I exchanged my ornament for my lunch; that the fact might be a memorial to the succeeding generations.” The story affirms that they found the ornament in possession of the confectioner, which circumstance, together with the Champakas on the Nimbh, proved the affair to the satisfaction of all. Hence is the origin of the institution of “Stau Jatra.” From the fact of the god’s appearance in Mahesh, although there were hundreds of places on the Ganges, it received great renown as the chosen, favorite place of Jogger-nauth. A wealthy Bengalee gentleman of Calcutta has built a temple and a car on the spot with the outlay of an immense sum of money. The bathing is performed on a high altar made of brick, in the midst of a wide field, which groans under the feet of myriads on this occasion. It is the next exciting scene to that of Orissa, but it excels the other in its licentious shows and amusements.

The next general worship is that of Gunga. Very few images are made of this goddess. They offer the sacrifices on the bank of the river. Every Hindoo family sends offerings of flowers, incense, eatable things, and clothes to her. Its water is believed to have a greater degree of purifying influences on this day than on any other, so that almost every one who can possibly avail himself of this opportunity, bathes in the river. I have seen several men wash their dogs, cats, and birds on this day. It is also believed that the venomous serpents lay their eggs to-day, and if it should rain, the amount of poison would be less dangerous! “Monsha,” the goddess of the serpents, is worshipped, as her favor is regarded as the only sure protection against poisonous creatures.

There are several noble rivers in India, and why should the Hindoos regard Gunga as sacred so much so that the intrinsic sanctity of its water can redeem men from their sins, however dark they are? A prayer offered universally by the Hindoos to this noble river, reads thus: “Ready Redeemer of all iniquities, Destroyer of all distress, Giver of happiness and salvation, O Mother Gunga, thou art our only way.” Why they hold it sacred above other rivers in Hindostan, is a question of importance which ought to be answered. As the legendary origin of the sacred river of the Hindoos is known only to them, I would venture, having the true knowledge of the same, to describe it, and thereby solve the mystery to those unacquainted with Hindoo mythologies. But earnest as I am to communicate it to my friends, I find a great difficulty in my way. It is a long channel of a story, with tributaries coming into it from various directions. I hardly know where to take it up, and where to leave it, and at the same time to convey the true, distinct knowledge of the origin of the sanctity of Gunga to a Christian reader. I shall not, however, fear the absurdity of the story, as I do not believe it myself, nor ask the reader to regard it as true. Odd as this may sound to any one, it shows him the Oriental method of treating truth, in rich, glowing allegories; the truth is hidden in their bosom. The river Gunga is another representation of the goddess Doorgă, the daughter of the Hymaloy mountain, and the wife of Shiba the Hindoo god. Look at the truth, figuratively expressed! Rivers issuing from the mountains are their sons and daughters, no doubt, as the Hindoos name them, and hence the Gunga is the daughter of Hymaloy. Let us hear the whole story. After the marriage of Shiba with Parboti (mountaineer) or Giriza (mountain-born), the daughter of Hymaloy, the god went to reside in Koylas, a romantic chain of the same mountain. The Hindoo poets call this place finer than any in heaven, which I doubt not that it is, otherwise the god would not have made it his favorite abode. The soil is golden, the trees bend under the weight of delicious fruits, while others smile with bright, fragrant flowers; the breeze is balmy, and the birds handsome, merry, and singing. On a certain day, Doorga was sitting on a golden throne with Shiba, when there appeared a crowd of male and female figures, some with hands broken, others with legs badly bruised, and the rest had their faces turned backwards; in short, all of them were disfigured, maimed, and hurt in the extreme. Shiba smiled at them, at which his wife asked him: “Lord, who are these that stand before us? Their unhappy fate enlists my sympathy; my hands and heart are ready to serve them.” Thus, the god replied: “If it would please thee, goddess! to hear from me the names and the circumstances of this injured group before thee, lend thy ears then to the sad story. These are six male and thirty-six female tunes. The children of the earth had attempted to sing them, and not being able to manage harmoniously, have left them a quarter or half-finished; even those who have finished the song, could not preserve the harmony; for a song and a tune are two different things. Therefore, thou seest one is with broken wrist, the second is without nose, the third has his limbs broken, etc.” The goddess wanted to know if there was any way of making them whole again. Shiba assured her that there was, and that in his own power too; “that these poor suffering Tunes had in vain sought redress from the renowned singers on the earth, and finding that human power could not confer upon them the adequate help, are now before me; I will make them whole.” Accordingly invitations were sent round the heavens to the gods, and a large audience of the celestial beings was held at the pleroma of Shiba. A Sage invented a musical instrument for the occasion, which was called Tăn poorā, or Tune-perfecter.

I need not say anything about the singing of the god, which satisfied the whole gathering. Now Krishto being naturally mild, delicate, and pleasure-seeking, was so much moved at the music that he perspired. The astonished gods held a counsel, and commissioned Bromha to receive the perspiration that was dropping from his feet in his pitcher “Comoondul,” and to preserve the sacred relic in his possession. So he did. With a heart overflowing with joy the Creator held his Comoondul under the feet of Krishto, for he knew that out of them issued the life and immortality for the Hindoo sinners. They called the water (perspiration of Krishto), Gunga. Here is the brief account of the birth of the Sacred River of the Hindoos, showing from what a sacred source it is derived, how and under what circumstances, etc. I will now turn to the fact which brought it into the world from the house of Bromha; which advent is looked upon by the Hindoos with as much joyous enthusiasm as that with which a Christian looks upon Christmas. For there is this point of resemblance between the mission of Christ and that of Krishto: Christ washes the sin of the world, however dark it is, with his blood; while, on the other hand, the perspiration of Krishto redeems the Hindoos from their sins, washes away the impurities that stain their lives, and brings immortality to the dead and lost. Indeed, to a Hindoo a drop of water of Gunga is itself a Life and Light, and the only way to enter into the everlasting joys in the Goluck of Krishto. Christ saw Satan fall from the sky; his advent took out the sting of Death, so we hear the stories of Jom (Death) complaining of the emptiness of his womb or cell. Frequently we read the account of the quarrel between the angels of Krishto and Jom touching the fate of a man who, spending his whole life in sin and unbelief, had thrown himself into the water of the Ganges in his last moments. The services of Ganges are more beneficent to the Hindoo than the blood of Christ to the Christian. We are taught to believe in Christ,—his holy mission,—his fullness of knowledge and sanctification; but it is quite a different case with a Hindoo. Even if he did not believe in the sanctifying influence of his religious nature, and the redeeming power of the Gunga, he goes to heaven, provided his body or ashes are thrown into its sacred water. Hence the bank of the Gunga has been a Cross to the Hindoo; it has been the best place for them in which to die that they may live again. Thousands—young and old, male and female, pious and sinful—are brought hither to breathe their last, to throw off corruption and ascend the Goluck of Krishto. To a Hindoo death in or near to his Sacred River is a Gain. The true end of his being is accomplished if he succeeds in dropping in and dying near the Ganges, or Gunga.

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The following is an universally-believed account of the advent of the Sacred River of the Hindoos into the world. The Book containing it is read and expounded by the learned and eloquent priests to the listening crowds. The children read it in their school-books, and the Hindoo monks sing it from place to place. There was an illustrious family called Shoòjo Bungshoor, the Offspring of the Sun, and which has been made immortal by Balmica in his celebrated poem Ramayona, as being the tribe which Rama, the great god, chose, and of which he became a member. In this family there lived a king of the name of Saugor, renowned in and esteemed by his time. To use the Hindoo phrase, he was a terror to the tyrants and a friend to the peaceable, help to the needy and the delight of the age he lived in. It was customary with the ancient Hindoo kings to do “Ausho’ med,” a religious ceremony, to extend his power, peace, help, love, etc., all over the world. When a king has succeeded in this, has brought every country on the surface of the globe under his power and protection, the throne of Indra will be his reward. The throne of Indra had been aspired to by several kings, but none of them ever reached the prize, the reason being that he used to interfere with their plans, frustrate their precaution, and cause them to desist from the undertaking forever. The leading features of this ceremony of Ausho’ med, and the ways in which it used to be conducted, are these: A horse, bearing on his forehead the inscription, “Let him who denies the power of the master catch the horse,” was sent round the country to the dominions of kings and nobles, accompanied, however, with armed soldiers. The horse was sent about the land for the purpose of demanding submission from the world. In some places he travelled unmolested, and securing submission for his lord; and wherever the people did stop him, it was understood that they hated the yoke of dependence. The soldiers would immediately inquire distinctly the real motive of the man who stopped the horse, whether it was curiosity or a mistake or a purpose that actuated him. If it were a mistake, or fancy, they would pardon him, and recover the horse and unfurl the banner of their king on the spot. If otherwise they would resort to war. This Saugor, the celebrated king, forwarded his “sixty thousand” sons in a triumphal expedition, into all the countries known at his time.[12] They visited the uttermost parts of the world, ascended the mountains, crossed the rivers, proclaimed the power of the name of their illustrious father, and brought almost all the world into subjection. Arriving at a place near the sea, the princes congratulated each other on their success; and finding no place where to direct their steps, resolved to return home to their longing father, who, on their successful return, would perform the ceremony. Elated with joy at the success of their mission, they all sat down on the sea-shore to review their past adventures, while the majestic waves of the sea rolled before them, defying their power, and with thundering voice declared the power of Him who alone can tell them, “Thus far shall you come and no farther.” The cool, balmy breezes from the neighboring forests blew upon them; their joyous spirits felt the weariness of the flesh, and one after another the veteran princes wore the garment of sleep; while the horse, incapable of musing upon the glorious career he had gone through and the victories he had won, bent his eyes upon the green, shaggy ground before him. The place was so remote from the populous country, that while it was mid-day there reigned a death-like silence; no “hurries and bustles,” no sound of mechanics’ hammer were heard there, save that the distant sea thundered now and then. The only inhabitant of the place was a Saint Copeel, who, retiring from the active, pleasure-seeking community, had selected this romantic spot for his hermitage, to spend his life in prayer and fasting.

Now Indra, the king of the sky, who had been watching the progress of these princes with an anxious eye, left his airy throne, descended upon the earth in the form of a man, and stood on the very spot where the children of Saugor unconsciously lay. “They have,” he said to himself, “obtained victory almost over the whole world, and enlisted all the crowned heads as their subjects; there is no one under the sun to catch their horse or to obstruct their triumphal course. If they return to their father to crown him with the world’s victory, to place the vanquished sovereigns as stools under his feet, Krishto would offer him the supremacy of the sky. I too, hitherto the lord of the gods, should become his subject. It is not too late yet. Let me seek a Brahmun’s wrath to turn the course of the princes. Krishto’s will be done,” he said, and in a moment he held the rein of the triumphal horse. He led him to the cottage of Copeel, tied him by his side, and ascended the cloud for his palace, and from thence looked down at the result.

Now the tired sun seeks his home beyond the western seas, the singing tenants of the air bound towards their leafy homes, the wild beasts in yon forests return to their lairs, while others leave their dens; and the canopy of darkness is spread over the creation. It was then that the sons of Saugor rose from their grassy bed. “Early in the morning,” they say, “we guide our steps towards home—the blessed spot on the earth! The greetings of our friends, the tender arms of our parents will receive us. The Ausho med will be celebrated in the presence of the astonished world; the vanquished kings will be invited, the Brahmuns worshipped, the poor entertained, the music, dance, and feast will be observed, and the earth will wear a garment of mirth!” Early in the morning they arrange their things to start for their home. “Bring the horse,” one says, “where is he?” Some go after the horse, but do not find him. He has gone to the forest they think, and a party go in search of the beast. In vain they roamed through the woods! The horse could not be found. After a day’s toil, they come near the cottage of Copeel, and, to their utter surprise find the object of their search, tied near the altar of the Saint. The venerable saint presented a curious sight to the princes. He had a piece of “tiger’s skin” for his raiment, his hair flowing down his shoulders in graceful curls, eyes closed, hands folded. They took him for a horse-thief. Still as the rule of the ceremony would not permit them to recover the horse without the consent of the supposed thief, they called on him to answer for his conduct. But, alas! there was no sensibility in him. His heart and soul have bade farewell to the world’s pleasures, and been fixed upon the throne of Krishto. He did not know what was going on around him. The princes grew tired of waiting for the answer from Copeel, and began to speak to him in the following way: “Friend, if you are really afraid of us, and feel sorry for what you have done, say so; we shall choose mercy and not sacrifice. We have sworn before the gods to protect the horse, and, wherever he is caught, not to recover him in secret. What object have you in bringing the horse here? Is it poverty, pride, or fancy that actuated you to hold the triumphal horse of Saugor? Return our horse to us, and we will pardon you, and give you other horses if you wish for them; or if you dare to be our rival, tell us distinctly, that we may take the necessary course.” The entreaties, persuasions, reasonings, threatenings, effected nothing. It seemed as if they spoke to a senseless statue. Failing in their efforts to adjust the matter satisfactorily to both parties, and knowing it would be shameful to carry away the horse, one of them kicked the innocent Brahmun. The insulting touch of the foot to his sacred person broke the spiritual dream of Copeel; he felt this intrusion in the extreme; thought some evil spirits were trying to endanger his life; he looked upon the sons of Saugor in wrath, and they were instantly burnt to ashes.[13] The account of this disaster reached the anxious king, who came himself to the spot to soothe the injured Brahmun with prayer and worship, and thereby to beg of him the salvation of his sons.[14]

The Saint Copeel took pity upon the king, and said that the only way to redeem the souls of his sixty thousand sons was the blessing of Gunga, then in possession of Bromho. Saugor returned to his own palace, and soon after joined his sons in the upper world.

Now the gods assembled in heaven to consider what was to be done towards the sons of Saugor or his family. As there was no male child in it to help its growth, the first and the last fell before the wrath of the Brahmun. This Bongsho (Stock) is to be preserved, or Rama will not come out of it for the redemption of the world. Accordingly a Monie (saint) was sent to this family of widows to bless and console them in their sorrows. At the presence of the Monie at the door, one widow came forward to receive him, and fell down on the ground to kiss his sacred feet. “Be thou the mother of a child, daughter!” were the words of blessing that fell from the lips of the Brahmun. The embarrassed woman rose from the ground, and with tears in her eyes addressed him as follows: “Lord, thy daughter is a widow; how then should she be a mother? It has pleased Krishto to extinguish the family of Saugor, so at once the sixty thousand sons perished in the wrath of Copeel! Thou knowest all this,—the magnitude of the sad story, holy father!” “Be comforted, daughter, lament not,” the Brahmun said; “the sons of Saugor will be redeemed and his family be continued, for Rama has chosen it for his incarnation. My words that have fallen upon thee must be fulfilled. It is the will of the gods that thou shalt bring forth a son for the redemption of the family. He will find favor in the sight of Gunga, who, leaving the house of Bromho, shall come into the world first to wash away the iniquities of the sons of Saugor, and then of the world in general.” In due time the widow queen, at the visitation of the blessing of the saint, gave birth to a son, which circumstance brought universal joy to the world. The Brahmuns came to bless the babe, and called him by the name of Vogiroth. The child, owing to the peculiar circumstances of his birth, had no bones in his body; was a mere lump of flesh, could not walk or move about without making awkward gestures.[15] As he was busy one day in arranging his playthings, a Monie called him Oshto Bunko. (He was very awkward in his person, and crooked; so they called him by the name, “eight curves,” his body being in so many places broken perhaps.) The prince, although only four years old or more, had been trained by his mother to salute the Brahmuns reverently, and to pay them the due homage. Seeing the Brahmun coming before him, he left his playthings in order to salute him, but, being without bones in his body, his movements enraged the object of his worship. The Brahmun thought the boy was making fun of him, by imitating his ungraceful gestures; and thus interpreting the child’s innocent deeds, cursed him. “Proud prince, darest thou mock my awkward person, which Krishto has given me? In despising my person thou dost despise my maker. Let it be according to thy will; if pride has led thee to mock at me, be thou awkward like me; and if owing to some defect in thy own person thou didst make the irreverent gestures, be thou whole, and henceforth live a handsome child.” To the joy of the child and his relatives, the “cursing of the Brahmun begat blessing,” at that very moment he stood before the saint with a well-proportioned, stout, and handsome person!

At the age of five he was put under the tuition and guidance of a celebrated sage. Besides the mental and physical training, the sage took particular care to develop the spiritual nature of his pupil, to set his infant step in the path of truth, to inspire his simple heart with the love for the gods. His relations did not bring the knowledge of the great calamity that had befallen the family to the child’s notice. Every precaution was taken to keep from his knowledge even the word father. One day, as he was playing with the young children in the neighborhood, he heard them ask each other’s father’s name. The turn came to him, and a boy asked him what his father’s name was. A difficult question to answer, for he had never heard the name of father in his house, and never seen a man who was so related to him, except the teacher and other Brahmuns, who often came to console the widows with their kind words. “Friends,” he said, “ask the names of my mother, aunts, teacher, &c., and I will tell you; I do not know who my father is. In our house we have no such relative.” The children burst into laughter, to the mortification of Vogiroth, and began to express their surprise in their childish way. The fatherless prince left his gay comrades for his mother, who he hoped would adjust the matter, and teach him to answer the questions of the children in future. The joke of the boys had pained him so much that his blooming face seemed pale. Embarrassment threw a thick veil on his forehead, and it looked like the moon in eclipse. His hasty steps trod the chamber floor, and drew the anxious household around him. “Mother!” burst forth the insulted child, “I was very much pained by unkind words of the boys, one of which I did not fully comprehend, so I came to you to have it explained. Strange words, mother, they uttered, which I alone among them was unacquainted with. ‘Father’! what does it mean? The boys asked me the name of my father, which I could not tell; where is my father, and what is his name, mother?” The troubled queen heard the sad recital with sighs; and, as the child seemed determined to know all about the mysterious term father, she could not keep the fact in secret any longer. “Krishto’s will be done,” she said; and reviewing all the circumstances that characterized the child’s birth, unfolded the sad fate of the family to the eager ears of Vogiroth,—how the sixty thousand sons of Saugor were consumed to ashes by the Brahmun whom they had insulted, &c. Every word that fell from the lips of the queen penetrated the soul of the child, and filled his heart with deep longing about the redemption of his ancestors. “Mother, is there any power in the world that can redeem them from their cursed death?” “There is none, child! The insulted Brahmun has kindly told us that the sacred water of Gunga would wash their sins, if that could be brought into the world.” “Where is the abode of Gunga, mother, and who is she that washeth away the sins of men?” Trusting to Gunga, as the result of these inquiries, the queen informed the child of the name and attributes of the goddess. The child seemed to be satisfied with these explanations. Calmness passed upon his stormy soul, but it was for a short time only. He felt anxious to know how the blessings of Gunga could be obtained; he believed it was his duty, as the offspring of Saugor, to serve the spiritual good of his family, and thereby blot out the stain which it had brought upon itself by insulting the Brahmun. But he was too young for the undertaking; a mere child of five, strong and manly as his will appeared to be. At the usual hour of the day, his tutor, the Brahmun sage, came to the palace, and the child took his seat at his feet. He could not recite his lesson with the usual facility; he looked sober, and that was enough to apprise the tutor of the sad state of his pupil’s mind. Affectionately drawing him close to his breast, he asked him to tell him what ailed him, and was surprised at the recital. The child begged him to favor him and help him in the undertaking, as he had fully determined to obtain the mercy of Gunga, to redeem the children of Saugor, even if it would cost his life. He further desired the sage, in that simplicity and inexperience that are peculiar to his age, to inform him of the place of Gunga,—how he could arrive there, how long it would take, and how much it would cost, what kind of a person Gunga was, etc. The venerable sage attempted in vain to dissuade him from the enterprise, saying it was hardly possible for an ordinary man to have an interview with the great goddess in this world of sin; that the sages have spent their lives in prayer and fasting, away from home and kindred, amidst the wilderness and its ferocious inhabitants, without any material success; that the heavenly hosts—the gods—desire to see the goddess, but cannot. The child heard all these with much solicitude; and, instead of reflecting upon the discouraging aspect of the case set before him by his teacher, asked him one more question. It was, by what address he should call upon the Gunga,—what relation she bore to him? “She is the Mother of the universe,” the sage replied, “and whoever wants to come unto her, will find that address appropriate and sacred.” The child overflows with joy on hearing that the goddess is his mother; the dark prospect before him vanishes away, and he sees the path easy and sunny. “What,” said he, “shall I fear to go to my mother? The sweet name! It will melt the heart of the goddess, even if it were made of rock. I do not know the way; but faith will surely offer its service and be my guide; the Kanon wilderness is infested with savage beasts; my love will charm them; there are other obstacles indeed; my firmness will surmount them all.” Emboldened by such thoughts, and being determined to reach the prize, he revealed his cherished plan to the trusting heart of his mother.

After a long discussion, which, of course, took place on the occasion, she being assured by a “divine voice” of the child’s successful mission, gave her reluctant consent. A Hindoo poet describes the parting scene to the following effect. The little pilgrim stood before the weeping household to bid them farewell. The queen, conscious of the happy success that will crown her son, and unable to resist the influence of her affection toward him, could neither bid him stay nor go. It required an effort to utter either. “Great Goddess Doorga,” she prayed, “thy handmaid commits her babe—her only child—to thy protection. Let thy all-seeing eyes watch his steps, thy loving-kindness minister unto his wants. Mother Earth! whose name is Patience, do not take any offence which the infancy of my child is liable to offer unto thee! Lofty, wide-spreading trees! you whose branches form canopies over the earth and obstruct the sun’s rays, shield my little one under your shade,—when he is tired, let him rest under your branches,—when hungry, feed him with your fruits, and when in danger, inform me of it by nodding your heads that reach the sky. Wild beasts! be ye friendly to him. Do not prick his tender feet, ye thorns; and ye stones, do not hurt them by any means. Day, when you bid farewell to the world, commit my child to the hand of your successor; and Night, when you retire, put him into the hands of Day; and finally, do you both, good Day and Night, return him safe to the anxious arms of his mother.” The legend proceeds on with the young pilgrim, who bids good-by to his dear mother and other relatives, and starts on his journey into the wilderness.[16] The Hindoo poets paint the early part of this child’s life in the desert with amusing colors. Wandering a few days among the wild trees, with no word save “Mother Gunga” in his mouth, he thinks the time has already come for an interview with the goddess; he encounters a wild beast, and taking it for the messenger of Gunga, addresses it in the following way: “Did you come from my Mother Gunga, to bring me hope and consolation? Glad I am to know that my prayers and tears have reached her gracious throne, and met with success. Tell me, noble friend, what message have you for me, the little pilgrim,” etc. Year after year rolled away, leaving young Vogiroth at his altar in the wilderness. The goddess, although she was all the time walking with and watching him invisibly, did not bid his troubled heart be still. Now she sends her angels to tempt him, and try his faith and adherence to the undertaking, who now frown upon him with their hideous appearances, then urge him to go back to his home, alleging the undertaking was too difficult for him; sometimes they promise the world’s supremacy,—the pleasures of the Kirnoras,—provided he will give up his cherished plans, etc. But he heeded little their temptations, and aiming at the mark, made his way through trials and temptations with manly fortitude.

At last pity awakes in Gunga’s breast. She comes to bless the child, stands before him, puts her divine hands upon his head, seats him on her lap, and assures him of her protection forever. When the boy begged her to come into the world and redeem the children of Saugor, the goddess at first declined, but at the unceasing prayer and earnest entreaties of the child she consented to come. Now who should receive the sacred stream, as it flows down from the Pitcher of Brahma, was a difficult question, for it was feared the earth would be torn to pieces by the force of the sacred stream. Shiba, at the solicitation of the young saint, volunteered to receive Gunga on his head, when it should fall from the pitcher of the Creator; but the goddess, proud of her own strength, feared he would not be able to sustain its fury. He read the secrets of her heart, bent his head to receive the stream, and detained it for some time within his curls, thereby giving the goddess some idea of his astonishing power. It is to be observed here, that the sacred water, as it issued from the possession of Brahma, divided itself into three drops, or equal portions,—the one ascended to heaven in the name of Monda Kenū, the second descended to the region under the earth in the name of Vōgōbuthy, and the third, Wlluk-non’dā, remained on the earth,—thus at once sanctifying three different spheres. Now as, if the stream should run, it surely would wash away cities, towns, and whatever happened to be on its way, it was thought prudent to open channels in the earth, in desolate places, that it might course through them. Human power was too inadequate for the purpose. Oyrabut, the mighty elephant of Indra (King of heaven), was called upon, and by means of his teeth he dug a grand canal on the earth. The legend says, that as the compensation of his labor he demanded the hand of the goddess, and she in wrath rushed upon him, breaking his bones to pieces.

As the stream glided along, it happened to sweep away the Kasa of a Monie.[17] The Brahmun drank the whole stream, and drained the canal of its last drop. Vogiroth fell at his feet, told him the sad story of his undertaking, and begged him to return Gunga to him; because, without her water, his family would find no salvation.

The venerable Brahmun complied with the prayer of the child, but knew not how to bring the sacred stream out of his stomach, as it would be irreverent and wicked to let it issue through either of the Nobo-dār, nine openings of the body.

Considering the matter seriously, he at last tore the skin of his Janoo, knee, and the river flowed out of the opening. Hence, another name of Gunga is Jarnovy. She inquired of the child how far there was yet to go, and where the ashes of his ancestors were deposited. He could not answer at all, so she became hundred-headed, and went in different directions in search of the ashes of the children of Saugor. Thus do the Hindoos account for so many mouths of the Ganges that meet the sea.

Such is the legend of Gunga, the sacred river of the Hindoos. It is universally believed to be a true account of the goddess. The place where the river meets the sea, particularly near the Saugor Island, is regarded as a sacred spot, and is visited by the Hindoos once a year, in the month of Maugh, or January. Here the assembled myriads bathe in and worship the Gunga. It being more than an ordinary bath, and performed in such a sacred spot as the Sungh-um—the confluence of Gunga with the sea—it is deemed by very many necessary to avail themselves of the opportunity, and make the best possible use of the occasion. Before plunging the body into water, the man stands near the Brahmun priest, and confesses to God whatever sin he has committed and can possibly remember.

This is the Hindoo mode of Repentance.

We are told of a real conservative priest of Eastern Bengal, who would have his people confess audibly and distinctly the iniquities they had committed, specifying them by their name, nature, and circumstance, and thus making the matter worse, after all.

But now the confession is made and heard by the individual sinners themselves; no ears of the priest or bystanders hear anything. It is believed that the goddess, who heareth in secret, shall forgive and reward them openly.

In conclusion, it would not be out of place, I think, to speak, in this connection, of the reverence the Hindoos pay to their Sacred River. The long arms of caste cannot reach a victim if he happens to be on its water. In sailing as well as in row-boats, which crowd on the Ganges, the members of all castes sit side by side, talk to each other, smoke their hookas, and take their luncheon; but these things could not be done in a vehicle on land. A Brahmun would eat his luncheon on a boat having a low-caste man,—a shoemaker, perhaps,—only a few feet from him, because the holiness of the river takes away, in some degree, the difference that exists between the two castes.[18] They sprinkle its water upon everything almost, for purifying purposes. Those who bathe in ponds drop a few drops of Gunga water on their heads. A Hindoo who would speak lies, or bear false witness against his brother, with a hard heart, if urged to do it with a cup of Ganges water in his hand, would keep his conscience clear, for he will not dare to speak lies then!

In courts of justice the witnesses had to touch the holy water in giving their depositions; now they are simply reminded of its presence. If any one should speak truth, calling the Gunga for his witness, it is regarded sinful. It often happens that when a rich man is robbed of his gold or silver, and the police recovers it, he is required to claim it by oath, that is, by touching the water of the Ganges, but he would not. The very idea of swearing or taking oath in the presence of an adorable object is abominable to him; he would rather go away poor and suffering than retain or acquire money that way. In order that it might be regarded most solemnly, the Hindoos believe that when a man swears falsely in the name of a holy person or thing, not only he is condemned, but also “fourteen ancestors” suffer for it. There are, however, thousands who do not observe all these rules. I speak of the rules themselves.

CHAPTER IV.
SHRA-BUN, JULY.

The Roth Jatra, or the Car of Jogger-nauth.

Foreigners in general, misled by the reports of missionaries, have some incorrect ideas of the worship of Jogger-nauth by the Hindoos. They say that the Hindoos throw themselves under the wheels of his car, as a voluntary sacrifice, and are crushed to death. I do not agree with them in this assertion, although I have no sympathy with any of the forms of worship of my countrymen. The “Car of Jogger-nauth,” as foreigners call it, is worshipped and drawn for a different purpose. The ceremony connected with it has its origin in the following legendary incident, which, to me appears a historical one. Krishno, an incarnation of Bishno, was the only child of Joshoda and Nuntho of Gocool,—the modern Agra. Kong-sho, the tyrant king of Mothoora, made a great Jogeo,—a religious festival, and invited the sovereigns and people of various countries to attend it. Nuntho, the father of Krishno, being the king of Gocool, was respectfully invited to appear at the court of Kong-sho, with his son, whose chivalry was then the popular object of admiration. As a token of especial honor, Occroor, a sage widely known for his eminent piety, was commissioned by Kong-sho to bring the young prince of Gocool to the festival. He accordingly went with a Roth or car for that purpose. Krishno went with the sage, and did not return to his parents again. Now to commemorate his departure from his native land, the “Car of Jogger-nauth” has been instituted, which is worshipped and drawn as follows.

THE CAR OF JOGGURNAUTH,

WITH SKETCHES OF SOME OF THE ARTICLES WORSHIPPED BY THE HINDOO GIRLS. DRAWN BY MR. GANGOOLY.

The cars are constructed of different sizes, but the shape is always the same. They are of the form of a pyramid; square at the base, and become pointed at the top. Some are of stupendous size, being fifty feet high, more or less, and beautiful wooden statuary and paintings adorn them from top to bottom. A car has five, nine, or thirteen cupolas, the highest, or main one, is the seat of the idols. As it is drawn, the bells ring and silken flags wave on the cupolas. There are four cars in my village, and I will speak of them. The first was dedicated by a rich landholder, the second by the high-priest of the priests, the third by a dairyman, and the fourth by a rich Brahmun widow, who settled in our village a few years ago. Her car is said to be one of the handsomest, with nearly fifty statues, and a large silver chuc-cross, the throne and ornaments of the idol are of gold.

In the morning of the day in which the car is drawn thousands of people are entertained at the dinner, by the owner. In the afternoon the procession is formed before the car in the following manner. Men walk in rows with flags in their hands; the bands with hundreds of drums, flutes, cymbals, etc.,—the Krith-on, or a band of singers who sing the praises of Krishno alone. The car in motion, drawn by hundreds, makes a tremendous noise, and grinds everything to powder that comes under its solid wheels. It is everywhere believed in Christian countries that the Hindoo devotees throw themselves under the Car of Jogger-nauth in order to be crushed to death. But that is not a true statement of the case. Self-torture is practised, sacrifices are offered, and in many cases even suicide is committed, to satisfy some Hindoo deities, but nothing of this nature is allowable before Jogger-nauth. He does not take delight in cruel, bloody shows. His love for his creatures is so great that no animal food is offered to him. His worshippers, a peculiar sect of the Hindoos, called Boish-tule, do not kill or eat fish, nor look on pictures representing scenes of battle, murder, or assassination. The loss of lives under the Car of Jogger-nauth is owing to the carelessness of the people. It is believed by them that he who pulls the ropes attached to the car will be carried away after his death, to the heaven of Krishno by his Pooshpo Roth,—flowery car. Elated by the false promise of heaven, an immense crowd comes forward to give at least three pulls of the sacred car, and some among them accidentally falling down are trodden by the feet of men or crushed by the wheels of the car. I have seen four stout men go to heaven that way, being ground to pieces by the car of the rich widow mentioned above. Of course, while a Hindoo, I believed like the others, but do not remember of ever drawing the car at all. Being a Brahmun, and widely known as a sincere lover of the idols, I used to sit on the top of the car, fan the idols, receive the shower of flower-garlands from the crowd and throw them again at the men, women, and children below as a benediction. Such was my devotion and affection to the images, that while almost everybody deserted the car on account of a heavy shower, I alone sat by and took care of the idols, believing they would reward me abundantly hereafter! No worship of the Hindoos is free from some act of immorality or vice. The Brahmuns, especially the young ones, from the high seats on the car, find out, with keen eyes, and lustful hearts, some handsome females in the crowded street, or in the house-top, and hit them severely with the bananas.

There is no Scriptural reference to the place where the car shall stop. It is sometimes carried to the distance of a mile and is left there for seven days, during which time the idols are worshipped in some temple or house built or hired for the purpose. On the eighth day the car is drawn back to its former place, where it remains motionless until the next year. They make large eyes for the car with paint, that it may look at all and be careful not to crush any cruelly. After the death of four men under the car in my village it was found that the painter had not drawn the eyes on the top of the car!!!

CHAPTER V.
VAUTHRO, AUGUST.

The Birthday of Krishno.—Fasting and Worship on the Occasion.—Rejoicing of Nuntho; the Worship of Monsha,—a Goddess whose Messengers are Serpents, Adders, Toads, etc.

The Hindoo mythology relates the birth of Krishno as having taken place in this month, on the “eighth day after the full moon.” He was born to redeem the world, which was then trembling under the feet of a tyrant. His parents were in a humble prison at the time of his advent. In the presence of the heavenly babe the fetters that bound the prisoners were broken asunder, the cell began to dazzle, joy and sorrow overwhelmed the unhappy parents. “A heavenly voice” whispered to the father to fly with the child to Gocool, across the river Jomuna, which was immediately done. The tyrant who sought to destroy the child felt mortified, seeing his precaution frustrated, and sent some messengers to kill all the infants in the neighboring places.

The Hindoos hold this day sacred, and spend it in fasting and worship. They abstain entirely from food and drink for more than thirty hours, at the end of which Krishno’s image is worshipped, and the story of his birth is read to the hungry worshippers. In connection with the birth of Krishno comes Nunth-sobe,—the rejoicing of Nuntho, the king, in whose palace the infant Krishno was left in the shade of night.

On this occasion the Hindoos anoint themselves with all sorts of perfumatory oil, attar of rose, etc., and spend three days in grand festivities, music, and dancing.

On the thirtieth of this month is the worship of Mōnshā, which, on account of a singular feast that accompanies it, is quite different from others of the same sort. The name of this feast is Ur-run-thun. Cooking is strictly forbidden on this day; no fire is to be put in the oven. They cook all their food the evening before, with much care and ceremony, such as offering prayers to the goddess, sounding the sacred shell, etc.

In the morning of the thirtieth, the cactus trees are worshipped, which grow high in India. The stem is washed, and anointed; flower wreaths are hung on the branches, the sacrifice of a he-goat offered, etc. As the messengers of the goddess are serpents, and cannot be conveniently handled, their pictures are worshipped with due respect and awe.

CHAPTER VI.
AUSHEEN, SEPTEMBER.

The Doorga pooja.

This is the grand worship of the Hindoos. Men of humble circumstances cannot bring the image of Doorga into their houses, because it requires a large amount of money to make the necessary preparations. The image itself is always the largest and most expensive; to speak nothing of other things which, though economically arranged, demand a large sum. Fifteen days or more before the worship, the whole country is in excitement. Men who, under various circumstances in life, spend their days as exiles in distant places, come home on this occasion to greet their dearest relations once more. The distribution of presents to, and reception of them from, the friends and neighbors is universally observed. Even the very poor, low-caste man, who can barely clothe his children in winter, and must go barefooted all the time, would buy new dresses, shoes, etc., for his little ones, in the Doorga pooja holidays. The rich, charitable Hindoos give Barshick—an annual gift of money and new clothes—to the Brahmuns, as well as to the domestics and poor people, that they may not appear naked and grieved before Doorga, their common mother. The amount of the sale of all sorts of articles is proverbial,—“The very dust of the Doorga pooja market is dear;” “There was such a crowd at the store that you could crack twenty heads by one stroke,”—such are the phrases they use to describe the market in September. The mechanics, the artists, the jewellers, the farmers, bring the results of their respective labor and skill to contribute to this occasion. But notwithstanding the joyous festivities, the presents and profusion, I am sorry to say the thing has a hideous feature. Those who spend their means in wicked and riotous living desire more than usual, on these days, to satisfy their own sensual appetites, and those of their wicked companions; and, failing to do it, resort to unfair means, and act as thieves, pirates, and murderers. The penitentiaries are crowded with these unfortunate people, who, hoping to spend the holidays merrily, live wretchedly under the strict regulation of the prison and the weight of their fetters! A sad contrast indeed! Before I describe the image, the preparation, and the worship, I will consider who the Doorga is, whom my country regards as the great goddess.

Doorga was the only child of Hymaloy and Manoka, who ruled the mountainous region of India in times of yore. There is a great deal of mysterious conjecture in regard to the name and nature of Hymaloy, the father of the great goddess; and I would bring them to the notice of my Christian readers. A story universally believed by the Hindoos, says: In ancient times the mountains were living, movable bodies, endowed with the use of senses, and could fly in the sky by means of wings, and this Hymaloy was their king. In course of time, these mountains grew very troublesome to their fellow-creatures, the men; and, jealous of each other’s power, they began to make inroads upon the cities situated on the side, vale, or top of their antagonists. They did not use any arms in their warfare; but, to accomplish their end, used to fly in the air, and aiming at a certain doomed place, fell upon it, and buried thereby houses, trees, men, women, and all! To put a stop to these outrages, Por-oosh Ramah,[19] a deified king, cut off the wings of all the turbulent mountains, which thenceforth lay as immovable masses of earth. As I write this, fancy carries me to the top of the Rollstone in Fitchburg, Mass., where I saw a heavy boulder, which they say is an entirely different species of rock from the Rollstone. I think (in fun though) that the statement of the Hindoo legend is true; this boulder, if not the son or grandson of the old hill, was perhaps the child of its neighbor, came there to make a call, and, amid the general slaughter by the god, who spared neither age nor sex, lost its wings, and consequently has lain on the bosom of the Rollstone ever since! The legend deserves another remark. It was a noble, heroic act in Por-oosh Ramah to cut off the wings of the injurious mountains which were then filling the world with horror and devastation. But it is a hard thing to stop the course of nature. The naturally cruel mountains, having lost their wings and unable to fly about and tyrannize over others, now and then open their monstrous jaws, and send forth fire, ashes, and melted lava to the neighboring places, and destroy everything therein. Thus the beautiful cities of Pompeii and Herculaneum were destroyed by the cruel Vesuvius.

Now to the point: I think the father of Doorga received his name from the mountain Hymaloy, or the mountain from him. It was, and now is, the fashion to name places, mountains, and rivers, after some distinguished persons, or the persons after the places. Thus, we have Alexandria from Alexander, Rome from Romulus, St. Louis, St. Lawrence, Mount Washington, and Scipio Africanus, etc.

Let the Hindoos believe whatever they will about the parents of Doorga, she herself was, beyond question, the delight of her subjects, and the pride of the age she lived in. Her popularity among the people, her wide renown of noble, generous character, as painted with the dazzling hues of Oriental imagination, had made such an impression on the minds of the people, that, in succeeding ages, the ignorant but grateful posterity deified and made her the “Great Mother” of the universe. Her worship rose from the following fact.

It is the custom of the Hindoo females to visit their parents once a year, at least. Doorga was married to Shiba, the Destroyer. At the invitation of her parents she forsook the pleasures of Hoylas,[20] and came to cheer up their lonely hearts by a kind visit in this month. She came only for three days, for her husband could not come with her, nor live in her absence. To commemorate that event, the Hindoos construct her image, and with great rejoicing worship it for three days.

Here I will describe the image, with all its peculiarities. I use the technical term of the Hindoos when I say “the image,” or “Prothima,” for it contains nine different idols, although they call it one.

I am sure the description of the goddess will be amusingly absurd to the Christian reader; but I will represent it just as it is, and finally show that, far from being the real representation of some deity, it is merely an ideal thing,—the contrivance of Fancy.

The goddess is like a young female of sixteen, with ten hands, three eyes, deep yellow complexion, and stands in a posture placing her right foot on the back of a lion and the left on the shoulder of a monster. The monster, “Mohisha Soor,” comes out of the neck of a buffalo, in whose body the lower half of his person is deposited. He has a sword in his hand with which he meant to strike the goddess. On her right are Shoreshotee and Gonesh,—the one the goddess of poetry and music, and the other the god of success. On her left are Kartic and Lock-hee, the god of the babes and the goddess of riches. These four are the children of Doorga. Besides these she holds a serpent by one of her left hands, which bites the monster,—the enemy of its mistress. Looking at the image carefully I perceive it is nothing more than the embodiment of all the necessary comforts, pleasures, hopes of life. We want relief from the overwhelming sins which beset us in every direction; the monster is the representation of them, whom the goddess is cutting asunder. We want wealth, learning, success, children, and behold there are the symbolical representations of all these in the names of the sons and daughters of Doorga. Thus the ancient Brahmuns have painted whatever they have touched with philosophic colors, and arrayed before the people hosts of deities, which are essentially the painted, clothed, personified attributes of One God. The system was well adapted to the capacity of that distant age,—the age of figures, allegories, and sentiment; but the present age demands a clear, simple, and intelligible faith.

The worship commences on Shop-tomee,—the seventh day of the full-moon,—and occupies three successive days. Early in the morning of the first day is the bathing of “nine leaves,” of which the banana is the chief. This is done with much ceremony, in the presence of thousands; the bells ringing and trumpets sounding by hundreds. They place the “nobo-pothrica,” nine leaves, by the side of the image, dressing it like a female.

As the Hindoo mode of worship is almost always the same, and quite different from that of the Christian, I will here detail it in full, instead of describing it partially here and there. The image is placed in the middle of the hall, facing the main entry into the house. Two Brahmuns officiate at the same time; the one conducts the practical and the other the theoretical part of the ceremony; in other words the former does what the latter tells him to do. Thus the first, the head priest, sits before the image with a pile of flowers and perfumatory powders on his right, and a bell on the left; while the second takes his seat only a few steps from the first, with his sacred Scripture laying open before him, which he reads to direct his colleague how to proceed. The priest, first of all, is required to purify himself, the place he sits on, and the water he uses in the worship, by some ceremony. The doctrine of self-purification is good in its nature, and a Christian one too. Christ inculcated such on his disciples. But what a sad contrast stands between a Brahmun’s and a Christian’s mode of self-purification before worship! A Christian is taught to search the innermost parts of his heart, and bring out, if there be there, any impure, selfish, or passionate inclinations; and, leaving the sacrifice before the altar, go and make peace with his brother, or in some other way expel evil thoughts, and then pray. A beautiful process of self-purification indeed! But the Brahmun repeats some Sanscrith words, puts a flower on his own head, and turns his hands round his head, for the same purpose. This symbolism takes a prominent part in the Brahminic dispensation.

Lest the sprinkling of water and the shower of wet flowers might soil the dress of the idol, or wash away the painting, a copper tub is placed between the priest and the image, into which he casts flowers, pours water, etc. Some prayers are offered to the children, the friends, the servants, the messengers, even to the ornaments and household furniture of the goddess.

The offering of Noi-bitho comes in course. Hundreds of wooden or brazen trays are loaded with wet, raw rice,[21] fruits of nearly sixteen kinds, and other sweet things. These eatable things are set on the right hand side of the image, with the belief that it will cast its glance at them. The priests entreat the idols to accept the offering they bring, and drink the honey, milk, and water, etc., which they place before it. After these have been accepted by the goddess (as they believe), they are distributed to the Brahmun families.

Then comes the sacrifice. The Hindoos cherish the same notion of this offering as the ancient Hebrews did. In the Old Testament we read of the peace-offering, and the burnt-offering, and of the children of Adam bringing lambs, vegetables, etc., to the altar of the Almighty. The difference is, then, in the choice of the beast for the offering. The Hebrews used to kill oxen, which the Hindoos do not. The latter slaughter goats, sheep, and buffaloes, of the male sex, in presence of their idols; and, at the end, cut sugar-cane, pumpkin, etc., into pieces.

The place where the beasts are slaughtered is the middle of the yard, where a wooden block, with a jog on its top, is stuck in the ground. The blacksmith is the only caste to kill the victim for the others, although some Brahmuns do that part, to the displeasure of others.

The executioner, his scimitar, the block, the victims, animal or vegetable, are all washed and purified with sacred water. Nobody is allowed to lean against or touch a pillar, wall, or anything else. All stand straight, separate, and silent. One holds the hind-legs of the he-goat by his left hand and its fore-legs by his right, places its neck on the block, and then the blacksmith lifts up his fatal weapon, and the people shout aloud, “Victory to thee, O Mother!” The moment the last word, “Mother,” has been uttered, the head of the victim falls bleeding on the ground, the bells ring, trumpets sound, the people jump in joy, and clap their hands. There is no precise number of the animals for the offering; it may be more or less, according to the circumstance and the inclination of the worshipper.[22] If the man fails to kill the beast by one blow, it is regarded a mischievous omen. Hence, at the successful blow, the master of the house takes the executioner by the arm, puts flower garlands round his neck, and presents him with some money, clothes, etc.

In the afternoon is the “vogue,”—dinner. It is to be observed here that the Hindoos of all castes do not offer boiled food to the idol,—such as rice, vegetables, fish, meat (of the he-goat only). They make various distinctions between boiled and fried food; some is allowable, and others not; for instance, a Brahmun would eat cakes fried by a confectioner, but not rice boiled by him. The Brahmuns only present rice, vegetables, and other cooked food, to the idols, which are offered in the same way as the fruits, specifying them by the name. When they bring these to the hall, they sprinkle the river water along their path, on which the Brahmun with the dishes in his hands treads. When the goddess is supposed to cast her glance at, or to indicate an acceptance of the costly dishes, the screens are hung so that none of the lowest caste can see what is going on behind.

The invited guests, as well as other poor low-caste people, take their places in the order of their castes, and the Brahmuns serve them at the dinner. O, the pleasant task! although, personally, I had neither faith in nor delight at the worship of the idol, and stood aloof in the hour of sacrifice, burning of incense, and offering meat to the senseless deities, yet I used to come at this time and offer my services in distributing food to the people. But as a disciple of Him who blessed, loved, and ministered to the poor, neglected, and low, I was particularly mindful to serve and wait upon such as rarely received much care and attention from an orthodox Brahmun. Thus, during these three days the people dine at each other’s houses, and all at the house of the Brahmuns who are highest and first in order. In the evening, the hall, the parlor, the entry, and the outside of the house, are all illuminated with chandeliers, lanterns, etc.

The priest performs the “aurothee,” or moving of “four lamps” before the face of the idol. While he is thus engaged, ringing a bell by his left hand and moving the lamps by his right, some burn perfumatory incense and fan the idol, and others devote themselves to silent prayer; the band also plays in the yard. At the close, every soul present is on his knees or breast, prostrating before “wood or stone.” I was often found on the outside of the house, away from the idol, at this time.

The guests appear again, and are entertained. The invited guests, the men of wealth, offer a present of money to the idol, when they come to the outer piazza of the hall. Beautiful it is to see men of different ages and circumstances visiting house after house, in crowds, in the excited, festive, superstitious Bengal. Would to God it was for some other occasion, and not for the worship of the idols.

Late in the evening begin the music, singing, dancing, theatrical shows, etc., quite different from those of Christians, both in regard to time, process, and substance. The usual hours for these are from eleven in the evening until six or seven in the next morning. On other occasions, when there is no idol to worship particularly, the music and shows extend twelve hours, without intermission. During these hours the people sit still, sometimes go out, promenade, chew spices, smoke tobacco, etc. The yard of the house, accommodating several hundreds, is the place where the theatrical plays and other amusements are held. For the information of the reader, I should describe in this place the musical entertainments of the Hindoos. They are far inferior to those in this country, in regard to the gorgeousness of the scenery; but far superior in point of elegance, taste, and composition, either of the tune or the play itself. A visit to the Boston Theatre, and the splendid spectacle displayed therein of “Faust and Marguerite,” have made me think the Hindoos are superior in their intellectual displays, while the Americans excel in scenic representations. Dancing in India is regarded in a contrary light from what it is in this country. Hence, those who dance in the public theatre or private parlor are from the lowest castes, if they be men, or public prostitutes, if women. For the Orientals deem it a shame, an improper act, for women to sing or dance before men. The dancing of a young girl in the above theatre in Boston, and of others in the polka, would well confirm the Oriental estimation of female dancing. The spectators do not gather promiscuously, and pay the admittance fee, as they do in this country. The music, dancing, or shows, whatever they might be, are open to all,—but it is in a rich man’s house, where the heads and backs of persons glitter with gold and jewels; the folks with cotton are not welcome. However, they have other places to go to, where every attention is shown to them. A Bengalee proverb says: “One door is closed against, while hundreds are open to us.” I said there is no promiscuous gathering; I mean the gathering of both sexes. The women sit apart behind the screens, from whence they see everything without being seen. But this is not the case with all. Sometimes a young woman, with vain heart and handsome casket—body—manages to thrust out to the public gaze her pretty hands, glittering with costly ornaments. Thus the first two days of the Doorga pooja pass by, and the third or last is before us, with its singular, absurd amusements. It is katha matie, amusement with clay. After the usual sacrifices have been offered, they wet the yard, and men of every age fall upon each other, singing and dancing in abominable ways. Some songs are purposely composed in vulgar words and sentiments, to be sung before the goddess, their Mother! This mistaken band of men and boys, with instrumental and vocal music, visit every house in the neighborhood which has the image within it. As a token of respect, the master of the house, or his representative, cordially receives this foolish party, and joins their number. You must join them, otherwise they will run after you, put clay on your clothes, and make you come at any rate. As they pass by, it is difficult to recognize them by their faces. Their clothes and whole bodies are so covered with clay, that at the first sight you will take them for some strange creatures, or John for James and James for Charles! Christians, who have no faith in the foreign missions, think the Hindoos are well off. Come! O come and see this single abominable, adulterous amusement of these men, the sad, the mistaken specimens of humanity, and you will find a great gulf lies between you and them. Thank your God and be grateful to his mercy. Spread the light abroad that has been committed to your care, that millions of the Great Human Family may see their course through the precipitous way of life!

Now, on the fourth, or last day, the image is thrown into water, with absurd ceremonies and costly shows. Agreeably to the order of exercises performed when a woman leaves her father’s house for that of her husband, the women walk round the image, put some lunch in her hand, and entreat her to come again the next year. The men write their names on some bāle leaves, and deposit them at the feet of the goddess, hoping she will remember them by their individual names.

In the afternoon the bands play, the flags are waved, the guns fired, and the image is carried to the river Gunga. Some people throw the images into the water, while others take them on board of boats, and thereby give the goddess a good sail. While young, I used to cry for this treatment toward the “Mother,” and ask my father why it would not be better to send her home by carriage, than sink her into the water. When it becomes dark they return to their homes, the bands playing a melancholy tune.

The benediction is offered by the priest at the place where the idol was. A jar with water in it is placed on the same seat which the goddess occupied, people sit on every side, and the priest sprinkles the “peace water” on their heads. Lest the sacred water should fall on their feet, which are regarded profane by the Hindoos, they cover them with their clothes, while their heads are exposed to the shower from the priest.

After this is performed what seems to me the best part of the worship, i. e. the greeting of each other with salutations. Each person takes a quantity of sweet confectionery with him, and goes round from house to house receiving or giving salutations, according to his position. I will describe this more distinctly. The Brahmuns do not salute other castes; and the grown-up people receive homage from their juniors, but do not give them any. Thus, a young man prostrates himself before his older brother, and both before their parents, uncle, aunt, etc. They put a little confectionery to each other’s mouths, and embrace each other. On this occasion they use an intoxicating drug called “Vang;” with the exception of this, I like the proceedings of the evening. Thus close the Doorga-pooja holidays; doing some good, at least to the poor, for they are well cared for, entertained in feasts, and admitted to the fine shows in the splendid houses, where they are not allowed to enter on other occasions. Besides these, they get such a quantity of expensive eatable things as they never tasted before, and which they enjoy for a week or more.

CHAPTER VII.
KARTIC, OCTOBER.

“The Lamp in the Air.”—The Goddess Kallee.—Torch-Festival.—Red Marks on the Door-Post.

It has been observed before that the Brahmuns attach some degree of sacredness to the months of April, October, and January. The month at hand is October, and is a sacred one, and we will see how the Hindoos observe it. There are a great many common religious ceremonies which are not of much consequence; hence I will omit them, and direct my attention to the four marked ones which are the subjects of this chapter.

From the first to the last of this month, a lantern is lit and sent aloft on the top of a bamboo, or a high pole of any other kind of wood. As each house thus lights a lantern in the air, the number becomes very large in populous places, and it is amusing to see them burn like stars in the lower firmament.

The goddess Kallee. As I have determined to treat of the origin of, or the causes which gave rise to, the Hindoo worship, I will briefly describe the legend respecting the goddess. She is the wife of Shiba in another incarnation of Doorga.

Under different circumstances, or to accomplish some personal or universal good, Doorga the “great mother” appeared in various incarnations. The legend tells us the following. There were two Oshoor brother-rulers[23] of a kingdom. The world in their time suffered much.

Of all the worldly riches which allure the selfish adventurers, and cause them to explore the uttermost parts of the earth, there was something very peculiar which these two princes were wont to seek after. Neither the burning gold, nor glittering jewels, nor the absolute sway over the world was the object of their ambition. Human beings whom some people call their “property” were the objects of their ambition, and upon them the attention of these princes was fondly directed. By their craving human beings, I do not mean that they used to send a ship somewhere to the coast of Africa which would import human “property” for their farm or plantation. No! Their ambition was romantic, although not without sin. The fairest women, whom the poets describe as the gems and the life of society, were the tempting treasure to the eyes of these Sovereigns. It was a fixed determination in them to place the most handsome female on the throne as queen. They had servants to explore the vales and the groves of the female world, in search of such flowers. Wherever an accomplished female could be found, her parents would be requested to give her up to the throne, either shining gold or reeking sword being offered as an inducement. First persuasion, then violence were the methods to which they resorted to secure their end. Discontent grew up and was universally felt.

The poor, insulted parents, unable to cope with the tyranny of these wicked kings, appealed to the goddess Doorga, the great Mother. She took pity upon these sufferers, promised them relief, and determined to put a stop to the wicked life of the kings. Agreeably to her promise, the goddess descended from her Koylas. In order to encounter the servants of the King Shumbhoos, who were in a certain place in quest of handsome females for their masters, she betook herself to a grove which they must pass by on their way home. A Hindoo poet describes her beauty in the following way. As she entered the grove her divine presence, her unrivalled charms, her sweet graces, filled the place with solemn grandeurs. The bees and the butterflies forsook the flowers, and, taking her for a blooming lotus, began to hover round her person. The members of her body created discontent among the inmates of the forest. The white, fragrant lotus, hitherto the pride of the flowers, seeing itself surpassed in beauty by the goddess, fled with shame to lodge in the water forever. Her delicate, graceful neck drove the swans away into the ponds, lakes, and rivulets. The pearls finding their pride sadly broken by the bright teeth of the goddess, hid themselves in their shells at the bottom of the oceans. The wild deer ran frantic to see her eyes far superior in grace to its own.

In the ecstacy of his poetical imagination, the poet thus describes the countenance of Doorga; that the Bromho, desiring to imitate her face, created the full moon, and finding it, when ready, not half so handsome as the face of the goddess, broke it into pieces in fifteen days! Vain labor; he forms and breaks the full moon all the time! Hence are the phases of the moon.

It happened as she expected, that the messengers of the king came that way and were surprised to see the grove dazzling with her beauty. They approached near, and asked: “Thābee! may we know whether a god or an angel is mourning at thy absence? Is it a region in the sky which is dark, being deprived of thy radiance? Who art thou that walkest alone in these groves, fearless as a lioness, free as air, sweet as roses, and mild as the moon? Or is it possible that thou art here, forsaking the airy regions, to shine upon the earth for a season?” Thus the goddess replied: “Noble friends! you are welcome in your kind inquiries. Indeed, my address will surprise you more than anything else in the world, for it is so singular, so romantic, so noble, and so bold. Formerly I was a great princess, now an orphan, poor and helpless, having no place where to go, and no kind friend to stand by me.”

The messengers here interrupted her, when they knew the object of their earnest search was before them; for the goddess declared herself an orphan, poor, and helpless, and they hoped she would accept their invitation, and become their queen. Again, her helplessness made them sure of success, for if she did not comply with their request, they would take her by force. “Thābee,” said they, “thy night of sorrows is spent. Behold, the dawn of happy day is breaking upon thee! Follow us to the throne of mighty Shombhoo, and thou wilt be the mistress over his empire.” “I thank you for the generous invitation,” she replied; “I wish I could accept it; but there is a great difficulty in my way. I cannot offer my hands to any until a condition is fulfilled. In the name of Truth, I have sworn to marry him only who would be able to excel me in martial exercises. This is the solemn oath I have taken, and I will observe it as long as I live.” It is impossible to describe the surprise of the king’s servants, when they heard a young, weak, delicate female challenge the mightiest king of the world. In vain they attempted to convince her that such a daring, foolish oath would bring her to shame, and make her surrender even to a man of common ability; that if this was her condition, one of them could take her in a minute. Finding her firm in her position, they one by one engaged in a duel with the goddess, who killed them all. As the military custom in India is to spare the life of those who bear news, she suffered one to tell his king what had happened. Enraged at the news, the king came out to meet the heroine in the grove, begged her to surrender, promised her his love, but all in vain. She remained where she was. A fearful battle was there fought between them; the king had his troops, horses, and elephants, while the goddess, in a moment, changed her mild appearance, became “Dic-ambonee,” naked, and astonishingly fearful. Shiba, her husband, finding the world could not bear her fury, came to pacify her and make her desist. But she was so much excited, that she could not recognize him at all, and mistaking Shiba, who had fallen at her feet, for an enemy, stood right upon his bosom. Hence the image of Kallee is represented as follows: She stands on the bosom of Shiba, has four hands, three eyes, and dark complexion. In her two left hands she holds, triumphantly, a sword and the head of Shombhoo, whom she killed; and by her two right hands she offers relief to her poor children. Her necklace is composed of the heads of her victims who had fallen in the battle.

The intelligent reader can easily find out the meaning of such representations. Taking the fact narrated above to be a true one, we clearly see that Kallee was a great warrior, a woman of unspeakable ability, of generous heart, whom time and ignorance have deified. Again, interpreting it allegorically, we see that the mercy of God unto the helpless, and his wrath unto tyrants, have been beautifully personified. The image of Kallee is a Hindoo illustration of the doctrine of retribution. While two of the hands of the goddess are punishing sin, the other two, at the same time, are offering peace to the deserving.

The worship takes place in the night of Omabushai,—total darkness,—and on the next morning the idol is thrown into water, as usual. The buffaloes and he-goats are cut by the neck as sacrifices.

In the evening of the day on which Kallee is worshipped, the children amuse themselves with torches. The white sticks of flax are tied up into bundles, and each boy takes one in his hand, lights it in the fire, and runs furiously in every direction. Boys strike each other’s burning torches, and frequently get burned. This has its origin in a belief that the light of these torches pierces the darkness of hell, and helps its inmates to come out to receive the homage which their descendants on earth pay on that day. “Fourteen lamps are lighted” and put in different places round the house. Some red circular marks, made with Shindoor, a kind of red powder, are made on the head of the outside door.

The image of Kartic is worshipped, also. He is the son of Doorga, very handsome in his appearance, and rides on the back of a peacock. Those who wish to have some children born unto them, offer homage to him; but as they rarely meet with success, they are told that Kartic will bear witness of their religious deeds, and stand in place of their children! However, they do not worship him a great many years,—only four in succession, hoping to have offspring during that period.

CHAPTER VIII.
OG-GROW-HAW-UN, NOVEMBER.

Juggur-dhartree and Rash-jatra.

The goddess Juggur-dhartree, in the present form, was unknown to the Hindoos who died a few centuries ago. Her name has a fine meaning,—“the nurse or upholder of the universe.” She is Doorga in a different form, sitting on the back of a lion, who also rides on an elephant, and tears it to pieces. The chief part of the worship is similar to that of Doorga, in September, but covers only one day. The sacrifices, feasts, and music are alike. There is, however, something peculiar in the mode of killing the beasts for the sacrifice. It is recommended that the victim should be pierced to death by spears, but I never saw it done, anywhere.

In the night of the full moon comes the Rash-jatra. Its origin is as follows. Krishto, the Hindoo god, had some young women for his friends, whom he frequently used to meet in the groves. The sacred poetry of the Brahmuns abound with the details of Krishto’s frolics with the women, and the Rash-jatra is one of them. To commemorate these events, they place the idols of Krishto and his female friends in an artificial grove. The opulent Hindoos spend a large amount of money on this occasion. In Calcutta, a rich family is widely known for the display of statuary, pictures, and ornamental works, on the Rash. Every American merchant engaged in the Calcutta trade knows that family, of which Baboo Rajendro Narain Dutto is the head. The Rash continues three successive nights, in which the image of Krishto and of his wife Radha are exhibited with great magnificence.

The most celebrated Rash, however, is held in Khor-dah, a place on the Ganges, nearly fourteen miles from Calcutta. But it is not so expensive, so finished, so showy, as that of the Dutto family. They say that the image in Khor-dah was carved out of a piece of marble having miraculous power in it, which circumstance has spread the fame of the idol far and wide. Splendid temples have been built for its abode, and a fund adequate to defray the cost of the service has been invested for its maintenance.

There are other celebrations in the name of Krishto, similar to the Rash-jatra, one of which will be treated by and by.

CHAPTER IX.
POUS, DECEMBER.

This month, from its being very cold, I suppose, has no public worship. Nothing particularly religious attracts the minds of the people, or pleases their eyes. In fact, the artists who make the idols, and the musicians who sing before them, close their business this month. But it ought to be observed that the stage on which the Hindoos exhibit their idols seldom becomes vacant. A worship of some kind, general or occasional, must go on. The prevalence of small-pox demands offerings to Shitola, the goddess of that fatal, contagious disease. A set of men walk round from door to door with small images of the goddess. Coming to the threshold, the idol carrier blows a shell to announce the advent of the goddess, as well as to gather the inmates of the house, and secure a hearing thereby. He sings or recites a false story descriptive of the wrath of the goddess to the scoffers, and her kindness to the believers, etc. I used to ask these men to go somewhere else, and not to trouble us, but my mother would not have me do such things, and asked them to come back, apologized for my rashness, bowed down before their idols, and gave them some money! In the end of this month the farmers particularly worship the barns, rice-stacks, etc., as the representation of Luckhee,—the goddess of harvest, giver of wealth, prosperity, etc. On which occasion the whole of Bengal makes a feast of cakes for three days in succession. In these days some people eat nothing but cakes of various shape, size, and taste.

CHAPTER X.
MAGH, JANUARY.

The Morning Bath.—Shoresh-sotee, or Muse.

This month, though third in order, is the first of the three which are held sacred by the Hindoos. On the first day of Magh, at five in the morning, the whole country is up to bathe. The excitement thus created is beyond comparison. Sacred songs, jubilees, exhortations are heard from every quarter. The school-teachers form concerts of their pupils, who sing the praise of the sacred river Ganges, through the streets and before the temple. Men, women, and children crowd in the Ghats,—bathing-places. As they go in they throw some fruits, such as mangoes, bananas, cocoa-nuts, into the water as an offering to the sacred river. Some continue their morning bath through the whole month, others only three days, while a few religious persons continue it through the year.

The Hindoos have no preaching like the Christians, but there is something in that shape which occurs in this month. The religious Hindoo engages a Brahmun to read and expound the sacred books in his house, which is free and open to all hearers. This Brahmun is always well trained, has full knowledge of the Scriptures, a fine, sonorous voice, and is full of fun. In short, he must be learned, a good reader, singer, and actor. An altar is made for him, on which he sits on a cushion. He wears some flower-wreaths round his neck and head, like the Grecian orators with laurels.

In the middle of the month the image of Shoresh-sotee is worshipped. She is the giver of learning, poetical genius, and efficiency in music. Hence the poets, orators, singers, pay her homage and worship. Every family is not required to buy her idol, for the worship of books, writing-desks, inkstand, pen, musical instruments, do just as well. Even at the foot of the image these things are set in order. The schoolmasters make a grand idol of the goddess, and tax their pupils to meet the expense incurred thereby. There is one thing singular and unpleasant to the children. They are forbidden to eat Kool, a kind of plum, until it has been offered to the goddess; and if they do, her wrath will doom them to a life of ignorance. As the Kools grow earlier than the time of the worship of the goddess, they feel very badly seeing the trees smile with red and yellow fruits, while they are not able to touch them. The temptation on the one hand, and the fear of becoming dunces on the other, trouble them. Under such circumstances the cunning boys come to an understanding with the goddess, and promise to present her double or triple the number of kools which they eat before the time. Thus, with care and caution they keep the accurate account of the kools they eat, and produce the same before the image, agreeably to the contract made before. The worship occupies one day only, which is spent with music and other amusements.

Besides being the daughter of Doorga, the great goddess, Shoresh-sotee has a legendary tale attached to her person, which is regarded by the Hindoos as a genuine fact. Much as I do doubt its genuineness, I think it is a beautiful story, contrived to show the mercy of the goddess to her children. It is as follows. There was a young princess in India whose youth, personal charms, and mental accomplishments had made her the admiration of the time. Among other things that brought her notoriety, there was an oath she had taken, to the effect that she would give her hand to a man who would surpass her in power of reasoning, and conquer her in intellectual warfare.[24] The learned young princes and nobles of literary renown crowded her palace, but success did not smile upon any of them. One after the other they took the field of controversy with the maiden, and were vanquished. Disappointment and shame became their reward. Next to the kings and nobles, the Brahmun sages—whom we might call Depositories of Indian literature—made their appearance, but had to wear crowns of shame. Whether some superhuman intelligence shaped her arguments so as to render them impregnable, or her personal charms, her “lightning-like smiles,” or her “voice sweeter than Cuckoo’s,” threw a net of confusion over her opponents, I cannot say. While the vanquished party of the Brahmuns was returning home, they determined to know if anything could be done to punish the proud princess. Finding their own literary merits quite inadequate to the purpose, they did not hesitate to resort to stratagem. As the troubled company moved slowly homeward, contriving some way to ruin the learned maiden, it happened that a young man, singular in every way, came before their eyes. He was tall in stature, dark in complexion, unintelligent yet mild in his countenance. To describe his ignorance, which was proverbially great, the story says that the Brahmuns found him sitting on the branch of a lofty tree, and severing the same with an axe from the main trunk, not knowing that his own weight will facilitate the work, and that great will be his fall on the ground below! This ridiculous, yet pitiable scene attracted the attention of the sages, and they halted. This philosopher on the tree would make a good match for the princess, they said, if he could be saved from the ruin which his own hands were bringing upon him. They beckoned him down the tree, hinting that they have something very important to communicate to him, and so he came. In answer to their inquiries he told them his name was Kalidass, a Brahmun by caste, and that he had had no education. They informed him that they knew the latter while he had been on the tree. They asked him to follow them if he wished to marry a rich, noble woman in the country. He begged them not to make fun of him, as he was too unworthy of the bride they spoke of. However, they let him understand that they would do what is necessary, argue with the princess, and arrange the matter prudently, provided he would go with them as their Master, keep himself seated in a dignified look, which they would show him how to assume, and now and then make some gesture during the discussion. He consented to their words, and leaving his axe and anything he had behind him, followed the cunning Brahmuns to catch a woman. The unfortunate damsel fell a victim to the united subtility of the Brahmuns, acknowledged her failure, and, faithful to her vows, married Kalidass, their supposed Master.

At the usual hour a maid-servant showed him his room, and he entered in, tired and excited. Illiterate as he was, he was able to reflect upon the contrasts between his position then and a few hours previous,—a boor in the country, and a master of the sages,—a poor Brahmun in the morning, and the husband of a princess in the evening,—accustomed to lie down on the cottage-floor, now the silvery bosom of a bedstead in the palace is to receive him. There was a mosquito-net round the bed, and he did not know how to get in. The story says, he climbed the bed-post that held the net, to see if there was any opening on the top, and finding none he jumped in, tearing the costly net to pieces. Late in the evening the princess came in, and first of all, wishing to exchange some words, began to look for a topic. In the mean time a camel in the king’s stable roared. “The Oostros roar very loud, do they not?” she said. No response came from Kalidass. “Am I wrong? Is it not Oostro which I heard roar just now?” “Yes, you are right,” he said; “certainly it is ‘Oo’tro,’” not knowing the true pronunciation of the word. The princess felt quite alarmed at the word “Oo’tro,” for a scholar, a man of delicacy would hardly use it. She thought perhaps it was owing to a “slip of the tongue,” that he said Oo’tro, or it might be that he was tired or was making fun.

Venturing again, so as to find out the truth, she begged him to tell her what it was that roared a little while ago. At which he, in his full ignorance of the case, replied, “It was Ottro,” making it a new term altogether. The literary princess was shocked at it, knowing that the Brahmuns had ruined her; and indignantly striking her husband with her foot, she left the room. I do not believe this part of the story; it is contrary to the Hindoo custom; no insult is so great as to touch a man with the foot. Women, especially delicate and learned ones like the princess, could not do such a deed,—it is not only a great insult to a husband, but a real sin. It may be she had left the room disrespectfully, which, too, was not polite. Whatever was the case, poor Kalidass felt very much mortified, rose from his seat, looked towards heaven, and with tears said, “Mother Shoresh-sotee! the man is a mere animal who does not possess thy blessing in his soul. A woman insulted me! And why? Because of my ignorance of science and literature! To whom shall I go for redress but to thee, O Goddess of Learning? I am too old to begin to study. What shall I do then? I do not wish to live an insulted life without learning, without worth, any longer.” He then left the palace and his learned bride, and entered into a desert with a view to put an end to his life there. Finding a lake before him, he went in to drown himself in its water. While on the point of merging into eternity he heard a voice saying, “Do not die, child! here I am, thy Mother, come from heaven; thy tears have fallen at my feet, and thy prayer hath sunk deep into my heart, so I descended on earth to redress thy grief. I am Bak Dabie! Sink thy head into the water of this lake, and when thou hast lifted it up a clearer atmosphere will spread over thy head.” At the direction of the goddess, Kalidass immersed his whole body in the water, and lifting up his head, saw the goddess standing in the air. Inspired with a miraculous gift of knowledge, he immediately offered a prayer to the goddess, describing her beauty from head to foot, in language which the Hindoos think very chaste and high. In fact it is a fine specimen of Sanscrith poetry. The Hindoos are taught to repeat it in their schools. Unfortunately the goddess found fault with his description of her face first, and said, “He will be killed by the hands of a vile woman.” The sentence has been fulfilled in the life of Kalidass.[25]

Thus the insulted Brahmun miraculously became the greatest of all the poets whom India ever produced. His writings, still extant, are real treasures, both in regard to their poetical splendor, their sublime depth, and their moral bearings. Such is the legendary manifestation of the goddess to Kalidass, which, although a mere story, has much influence upon pure Hindoo minds.

CHAPTER XI.
FAL-GOON, FEBRUARY.

The Thole-jatha. This means the amusement of Krishto and his female friends with a swing. In the temple hall, or on some high altar, a throne is set, and the images are placed upon it. This comes in the time of the full moon. A few days previous to this the boys become very troublesome to each other, and to the men in general. They buy small hand-pumps, made of bamboos or tin, fill some jars with colored water, station themselves by the wayside, and seeing men pass by, pump out the water on their clothes. There is no remedy against this plague, for you do not know where they are; they lie in ambuscades, and, to your surprise, wet you with the red or yellow colored water. They will take you unawares, as did the Indians the troops of General Braddock. Sometimes they meet you in the street, four or five at once, and trouble you from every direction. As they seldom attack men with dirty clothes, one might escape the boys by wearing a less showy dress. Again, they make a kind of seal, by cutting an apple into halves, which they dip into ink and stamp on your side, breast, or back. This is worse indeed, for sometimes it is difficult to wipe out the stain-mark by several washings.

In the evening before Thole-jatha, the image of Krishto is conducted to witness Cha-churr. A long bamboo, covered with straw, is stuck into the ground by the side of the river or in the field. The Brahmuns who carry the idol and its throne on their shoulders walk round the bamboo post seven times, while the drums, flutes, violins, are playing by hundreds. They then set fire to the post, and fireworks of various descriptions are burned. Early in the next morning the idols are placed on the hanging throne. The people witness the scene with great pleasure, for it is said, “The sight of Krishno will effect salvation.”

There is some trouble, again, arising from the chief amusement of the day. Abeer, a kind of red powder which the god is especially fond of, is scattered everywhere. They make balls of it, and hit each other’s face and eyes. Fortunately, Abeer does not blind the eyes; for when it falls in, it waters them a little while, and thus makes them brighter than before. In a rich man’s house, the guests are almost buried with Abeer, without which the Thole-jatha is nothing.

The feast and music are as usual, for even a poor man must entertain “twelve Brahmuns” on any religious holiday. This is one leading feature in Brahmunism. It distinctly commands its believers to entertain Brahmuns and other castes in the time of the idol-worship. Thus it makes hospitality a part of the ceremony, and upon this the attention of the gods is particularly directed. There is a beautiful story to this effect. A man, according to his promise, offered a thousand mangoes to the sacred Gunga, by emptying the baskets into its waters. A poor man picked up one, and ate it. Now the goddess visited the rich man in a dream, and demanded the full payment of mangoes, acknowledging the receipt of one, which the poor man had eaten.

CHAPTER XII.
CHOITHRO, MARCH.

Churuck-pooja.—Hook Swinging.

This is the last month of the Hindoo year, and witnesses that bloody religious ceremony which is so much talked of in Christian countries. It is Churuck-pooja; or, graphically, the swinging by the hooks. I am aware that the Christian missionaries have taken especial care to describe this fearful institution ably and accurately to their friends at home. But as they write what they see, not what they know of the Hindoos, they often fail to treat of the real state of the thing. However, they are not to blame; for the want of true knowledge of an object makes its description dry and imperfect.

It has been a belief in Hindoo minds from the remote ages, that self-torture is essentially requisite for the propitiation of the gods. The human body being made out of matter which is evil in its nature, and wars against the spirit, it is desirable to macerate it, and give dominion to the spirit thereby. This notion has created various orders of Shun-nashi’s, Shadhoos, Jog-us, Mohuntros, etc., who are common in India. It did not long remain confined to India, but, crossing its boundaries, reached the people of Persia, Tartary, Arabia, Turkey, etc. Its influence was also felt by the Christian Church in her infancy.

In India it manifests itself in some form or other in all the religious institutions of the people. I have seen a man offer prayer to Shiba, standing on his head; others on one leg for hours under the burning sun. Some would not eat or drink anything unless it should be put in their mouths, while others would not lie down at all for a certain number of years. Nearly three years ago there came a Shadhoo into our village, who spent a whole day and night on foot. His disciples said that many years had seen him eat, drink, and rest in that position, and perhaps his head will not touch the earth until it does forever.

The subject of this chapter traces its origin from that singular belief of which we have spoken. Ban Raja, a king of great religious enthusiasm, is said to have instituted this ceremony in honor of Shiba. From the fifteenth of March the Mool Shun-nashee, with others, walks round the place at the pretended permission of Shiba.[26] They carry with them a great quantity of Oothuries, or thread, and finding a low-caste man within reach, they put a Oothuries round his neck, crying aloud, “Tarash-orāre nash Shiba!” From that moment the poor man becomes one of the party, forsaking his professional business until the end of Shun-nash. This mode of enlistment seems to command the victim, “Follow me, and let the dead bury their dead.” There is no way for his getting out free; he must wear the badge of Oothuries, and walk day and night with the party at the penalty of excommunication or a fine.[27]

It is to be observed here that the Brahmuns do not join the party at all: they put heavy burdens upon others, but do not help them with their fingers. Hence the Shun-nashees are always from the poor, ignorant, low castes. As there is no fixed limit to the number of Shun-nashees, they enlist hundreds within a few days. However, the number is great or small, according to the popularity of the idol. Though every idol is of Shiba and every temple is his abode, yet some are believed to possess the fullness of the god in greater degree than others, and are revered by the people accordingly. Thus there are three temples of Shiba in one village, and one of them draws crowds of worshippers toward it, which fact increases its income, and its priests receive a great deal. Now Shun-nashees thus gathered together spend the rest of the month in visiting the idols of Shiba and their brethren in different villages,—very like to the custom of the fire-companies in this country, who receive from, and make visits to, their friends of neighboring towns. When two or more parties come in collision, they stand in order, and salute and embrace each other with loud shouts of “Tarash-orare nash Shiba!” Each party has some leading men, who sing a few verses, desiring their friends to expound or solve them as the nature of the question would require. The trumpets are sounded, the bells rung, the flags waved, and the staves carried by hundreds. As they march in procession their music and shouts deafen the ears and make heads ache.

On the day before the Churuck-pooja, the ignorantly mistaken as well as daring men in the party make bans, or pass the thick iron or bamboo sticks through the skin of their arms and tongue. Indeed, it is a fearful sight! Not only do the grown-up men do such things, but boys of thirteen years or more pass sticks through their skin. I have seen men pass four Sholas (bamboo sticks of the thickness of our first finger) through the different parts of their left arm, and binding some extra ones with them, make a little terrace, with a vine creeping over it. Others make a hole in their tongue sideways, and pass through it the tail of Gochora (the flat-headed, venomous snakes). Thus arranged, they go to the houses of the gentlemen and dance there a quarter of an hour, getting a little money for compensation. By a little money, I mean from a quarter to a whole dollar. The money thus realized is disposed of in making some vile shows before the temple, and to buy intoxicating liquors for those who exhibit these bloody feats. A low-caste old man in our village was preparing some fine Sholas, to show a feat altogether new and surprising; but he died before the time came. Among other things his beloved wife remarked, in the course of her lamentation, that “he made grand preparation to excel others in the ban, but could not succeed!” Then comes the Churuck the next day, with an aspect more dreadful than the bans.

In the morning, the Shun-nashees all go to bathe, and gather a large number of cocoa-nuts, bananas, and other fruits. Before the temple, the Jhap is performed. It is a terrace made by sticking some bamboo poles in the ground, and sometimes rises twenty feet high. The Shun-nashees, both young and old, climb up the terrace and stand in two rows, one above the other; the spectators stand all round; some climb up the trees, to get a better view. A few men post themselves near the foot of the terrace, holding a large bag in their hands, by which they receive the men who jump down from the terrace, one after the other. This bag is stuffed with dry leaves, so as to make it soft, and a Botty (kind of large knife, not very sharp) is put over it. When everything is ready, then Mool Shun-nashee bends his head to the god, takes leave of the brethren on the terrace, scatters the flower-wreaths, raw rice, bananas, etc., to the crowd below, and, lastly, jumps down on to the bag, or, rather, the mattress. After him, all the Shun-nashees jump down in the same way, one by one, amid the deafening shouts of the crowd and the sound of the trumpets.

In the afternoon, the order of the exercises is as follows. Before going to the Churuck, the Shun-nashees ask the god’s permission, which he gives by a nod, seen by the priests only. They put some flowers on the head of the idol, and if one of them, at least, should slip down from it, it is interpreted as the pleasure and permission of Shiba. Sometimes the flowers do not fall easily, being at the centre of the idol’s head. This is interpreted as owing to the anger of the god. As the Shun-nashees are to fast certain hours of the day, and live according to the rules appointed by the priests, it is believed that they have violated the rules, by eating or drinking, which circumstance has offended the all-knowing Shiba. Hence, seeing the flowers do not fall from the idol, the priests command the officers to bind the Shun-nashees and beat them with stripes. I have seen the young boys roll round the temples, their hands tied together, in order to appease the enraged god. It is curious that they always suspect the boys of violating the rules of the Shun-nashee’s life, even if they observe, with their native earnestness, almost every “jot and tittle” of the regulation. It is the grown-up, old, indifferent men, who privately eat and drink, I believe; and the poor boys suffer for their sin. As the idol delays to give its permission by a nod, and by throwing some flowers from its head thereby, the priests interpret its terrible wrath, and order the town officers to be bound also. It is, however, a beautiful lesson the Brahmuns teach by this; they say, “The sin of the king causeth his subjects to suffer, and brings affliction upon them.”

There is a trick which the priests impose upon the people at this time. They contrive every means to open the window of the temple, in order to bring a draught within, that it may blow flowers away from the idol’s head. In my village there is a back window in the temple, through which the people on the outside look at the proceedings within. They, of course, prevent the wind from going in, in some degree, and the fanatic priests drive them all away, cursing and rebuking them shamefully. The moment a draught of wind has knocked a flower down, they in ecstasy dance round the temple, clap their hands, embrace each other, and shout, “Tar-āre Shur-are nash Shiba!” etc.

In this state of excitement, they form a procession and march down to the Churuck Tola, which is in some place very near the temple, or but a little way off. The Churuck Garch, or “Swinging Tree,” is a heavy, long, wooden pole, set up perpendicularly, with one end on the ground, with moche like the main-yard of a ship on its top, and which can be turned round either way. Sometimes the Churuck Garch is nearly twenty feet high. A man—the poor victim to the Churuck—bends down on his knees and hands, while another draws out the skin about his shoulder-blades, and the Cormokar, or the blacksmith, forces two iron hooks (ten inches or more long) into the skin and the muscles. Some daring man will suffer four iron hooks to pass through the different parts of his body, so as to show his proficiency in the affair. There are some strong cords fastened to the hooks, which also are attached to a long, thick cord, and the man is drawn up to one end of the yard. To keep the balance right, a man climbs half way on the rope attached to the other end of the yard. Thus bound and hung, the victim jumps in the air, and turns round the “Swinging Tree” from ten to fifteen minutes.

Once, in my grandmother’s village, I witnessed a scene more desperate than the above. A man swung round the pole nearly fifteen minutes in the air, with his head downwards, and four iron hooks catching him by the skin. His long hair began to wave in the air, and his hands beat a drum which was fastened to the same cord. But expert as he seemed to be, he could not as yet make good music. In some places several men hang in this way in succession. I wonder that these men do not seem to feel very much hurt; for I have seen them go to their respective work within a couple of days. Coming down from the Churuck Garch, the victims receive the benediction from the priest, who blesses them with a flower from the altar, as a sacred relic.

The morning after the Churuck, the Shun-nashees gather together before the temple, take off the Oothuries, or the sacred badges, from their necks, return them to the priest, and shave a part of their heads (for during the term of Shun-nash they are forbidden to shave their heads or cut their nails). After this, they bathe in the river or tanks, as the situation of the place will permit, and go to their own homes, eased from the bondage of superstition.

There is one peculiarity, however, in the Churuck-pooja which is worth noticing. During the Shun-nash term, the band is organized somewhat on the principles of brotherhood, each member bearing a kind, brotherly affection toward another,—an affection they do scarcely dream of before. If one of the party dies during these holidays, they all put on mourning according to the custom of the Hindoos. An insult to one is felt by all, for they being different are yet the members of the same body in Shiba. They regard the badge they wear round the neck as binding them together into the sacred bond of fraternity. The ever-vigilant, ever-living caste system interferes, of course, with their manifesting fully the relation they bear towards each other. The Shun-nashees of different castes would not eat at the same table or drink out of the same cup, although in other respects they do not observe all the regulations of the caste.

Thus ends the Hindoo year with so many religious festivals, holidays full of degrading and demoralizing amusements, and ceremonies bloody and mistaken. Though the internal spirit of these hosts of religious institutions tends to devotional and charitable purposes, yet the influence of their outward appearances confounds and corrupts the weak-minded Hindoo. The people in general do not strip them of the veil, in order to find out the real significance within. They hardly understand what those rites and ceremonies do mean, but in their ignorance take them just as they are, and worship all corporeal objects as true gods and goddesses. This feature of the religious belief among the low and ignorant classes is very gloomy, for they are hardly taught to recognize the difference between man and God. The Brahmuns, the priests of these people, do not have a regular mode of religious teaching. In the temples, by the side of the Gunga, under the sacred Burr (banian-tree), or in their houses, very few words are spoken by way of religious instruction. By some fixed mechanical rules they are taught how, what, and when to eat, drink, bathe, walk, speak, and sleep, and in these their religion consists. The language of the prayers, being Sanscrith, is unintelligible to the worshipper himself. Very few attempt to understand the phraseology of the prayer, and think it improper to handle the inspired words. In the prayer to Shuresh-sotte, or the muse, I find the description of almost every inch and each member of her person, with rich, glowing poetical imagery, which a sensible man ought not to apply to her, his mother goddess. So it will be found that most of the Hindoo prayers are immoral, yet beautiful representations of the personal graces of the male and female deities, which simply please our senses and bewilder our reason, instead of creating a deeper sense of reverence in our religious nature. Again, the want of a regular system of religious instruction has brought into the minds of the people all sorts of mistaken, erroneous ideas respecting God, man, and duty; life, death, and immortality. The man on the very verge of his life, standing between the edges of this and the next world, hardly knows where he is bound, whom he is going to, and what will be his true destiny. He, under the burden of superstition, recognizes his god in the person of the Brahmun, standing near his death-bed, or in the sacred Ganges glittering yonder. If he should unfortunately die at home, or on Tuesday or Saturday night, it is believed the gates of heaven will be closed against him, until the Brahmuns, by some peculiar ceremony, should exorcise his spirit, and with mortal hands open the gates of Paradise! This is the substance of modern Brahminism. Its belief is erroneous, its influence pernicious, and the end which it contemplates as destiny is dark. It makes piety to consist in the ordinances, in the law, such as in bathing, fasting, eating certain things, offering worship to some visible objects on some fixed days. Besides what has already been treated as the leading features of the Hindoo religion, there are some additional religious institutions, which I will describe to the reader before the close of the book.

Building temples to the gods, digging tanks, and planting trees on the wayside, are considered very pious. This belief has prompted the Hindoos to spend immense wealth in the erection of temples, which crowd the banks of the Ganges. The number of the temples varies according to the circumstances of the man; either two, twelve, or one hundred and eight are to be erected and dedicated unto the gods. There are very few men who have dedicated one hundred and eight temples at a time. There are some, however, at the expense of the Rajah of Burdwan, which I hear are very costly. On the banks of the Ganges, in lower Bengal, there are several Ghauts (bathing-places) erected with brick or marble. Their stairs are sometimes twenty feet wide and lead into the water several feet deep. On both sides of the Ghaut either two or twelve temples are erected for the abode of the idols. At the time of the dedication, people are entertained at a great feast, money is distributed to the Brahmuns, and the temples are adorned and illuminated.

The digging of tanks, especially where there is a scarcity of water, is commendable, and a part of religion. I can see the necessity of annexing this to the religion, for in a warm climate, were people use water so much, a great many tanks are needed to supply their wants. Hence we see almost every house in Bengal has a small tank, of twenty to fifty yards square, attached to it, and in this they raise fish for the family use. After a tank has been dug, it is filled with water, partly from the sky, and partly from the earth itself. They stick a long wooden pole into the centre. The owner of the tank, at the direction of the officiating priest, crosses it by holding the tail of a cow. This denotes the idea of crossing the river that glides along everlastingly between this life and the next. On this occasion, also, the poor people are entertained; a feast is given to the Brahmuns, etc.

Now the planting trees by the road-side must be noticed. There is, however, a selection of the place where the trees are to be fixed. Always the place where three roads from different directions meet together is preferable. The number and species of the trees are five,—such as Burr, Oshud, Nim, Bāle, and Amlokee. Five young shoots of these trees are planted together, which mode is called “The union of the sacred trees.” Scarcely all of them grow together, for, sacred as they are, some of them occupy the places and crush the others to death.

The daily worship. The rich religious people in India have the idols in their houses for the daily worship. There is a room entirely for the accommodation of the idols, like the “baby rooms” in this country. In it there are a throne, bed, seats, furniture, plates, dishes, cups, tumblers, bells, wash-tubs, clothes, and ornaments, of the lifeless gods. In the morning, the family priest comes in, awakes the idols from their sleep, brings them down from the bed, washes and wipes them, repeating some prayers and ringing the bell at the same time. Dressing them according to their shape and size, he worships in the usual way, by strewing flowers over them, offering them something to eat, etc. The head member of the family would not eat his meal until the idols have been cared for. In the evening, the priest comes again, to give the gods their supper. First of all, he lights “punch-prodip,” or five lamps, and waves them before the idols. He then puts them in their respective beds, covers them with clothes, or hangs the mosquito net round them, as the nature of the weather would require! Just as the children take care of their dolls, so the Brahmuns serve their idols.

The public worship. In every Hindoo country, a party of young men tax each family once a year and dispose of the money thus realized in the “worship of twelve friends.” They charge also all the bridegrooms who come to marry the girls in their village. A splendid image is erected in the public place of the town, and music and theatrical performances are held before it. This, taken on the whole, is the worst of the Hindoo institutions. It corrupts the young, who, taking this opportunity, do all sorts of immoral acts which they never dreamt of before. You ask the boys when they learned to smoke, steal, or quarrel, and they will point out these holidays to you. I remember distinctly having stolen tobacco and a smoking-pipe (hooka) from my uncle’s room, to help the smoking party in the garden. Almost all of us were beginners in this filthy and unhealthy habit. Fearing our parents would know it, we used to chew a piece of green banana-leaf, which in some measure takes away the dirty smell from the mouth.

Again, as the musical performances are performed through the whole night, these boys and young men go round the place, climb up the cocoa-nut-trees and steal their fruits. As the cocoa-nut-trees are very tall and the fall of the fruit on the ground makes a loud noise, some seven boys were once climbing up a tree one after the other that they might pass down the fruits noiselessly from hand to hand; the most cunning of them did something to make his successor laugh, and he doing the same, there wont a peal of laughter from the head to the foot of the tree, which apprised the owner of his loss. One of the boys attempting to come down quickly, fell upon some broken glass and was badly injured. Fortunately I was not with them. To enumerate the evils that rise from the Hindoo worship and holidays would occupy a book. Coming out disfigured and bruised from the dark caves of Brahminism, I hoped the British government would stretch forth its hand at least against the most immoral, and ruinous institutions of the Hindoos, because their own eyes are not bright enough yet to notice the defects thereof. But my

“Hopes that were angels in their birth,

Perished young, like things on earth.”

The late Sepoy mutiny has, as I see, given a lesson which the government must mind. However there is yet a hope of India’s regeneration. The influence of the Missionary as well as the government schools will open the eyes of the rising generation, and thus bring the matter to a slow but happy close. Father of lights! let Thy knowledge shine in every creek and corner of the world; and bring it to the recognition of Thee, who art its Creator, and loving Father! Let India worship Thee as her God and Father!