We visited a banker's office in the native city of Poonah. This bank, in which large sums are deposited and extensive business transacted, was nothing but a mud house plastered over within and without. The counter was an inclined platform reaching from the front to nearly the whole length of the building; on it squatted, cross-legged, surrounded with bags of all kinds of money, a Mahratta banker with his handsome countenance and keen piercing black eyes, talking to his customers, discounting bills, and counting money with astonishing rapidity and ease.
The bank where our pundit obtained his "hoondee," or money-order, was managed, in the absence of his father, by a young Hindoo boy who could not have been over twelve years of age. This youthful cashier astonished us with his accuracy and quickness in counting and discounting money. His only account-book, as far as I could see, was a flat board covered with fine white sand. On this primitive slate he made all his calculations, writing them down with his forefinger. When he had finished he blew away the sand and handed over the amount due to pundit, with interest for odd days, etc., all calculated with the nicest accuracy down to the smallest fraction. We wondered very much to see these banking establishments left in the charge of such young lads, who sit there demurely—and, what is more strange, securely—until late at night, often amid heaps of gold, silver, and other coin left temptingly in full view; but one rarely hears of any attempt to rob them.
The bankers' checks are written on a thick country-made paper; every check has a secret mark or sign that renders forgery difficult. It is rolled up and fastened with gum-water, and thus laks[66] upon laks of rupees are circulated with ease and safety throughout the country.
The European portion of the city of Poonah stands on a fine open plain. There are here wide fields, handsome barracks for the European soldiers, bungalows for their commanding officers, a hospital, a lunatic asylum, a pretty little church with reading-room and library adjoining. In fact, there is everything here to render the European comfortable and happy, except the temper of the people, who still cling to the recollections of old times, when Poonah was the capital of their own great kings and warriors, filled with all the pomp and parade of Oriental splendor.
The late Sir Jamsetjee Jeeboy has erected a fine residence here; near it is a simple and unpretending Fire-temple for the benefit of the Parsees in this vicinity.
The last of the many bright hours spent here we drove about the native town and enjoyed Poonah at night. Every house, fort, temple, palace, and hut was illuminated, those of the poor by a dim light, those of the temples and palaces by innumerable tiny flames that flickered and gleamed in thousands of colors on the marbles and frescoes of the walls, floors, and verandahs. It seemed like passing through some fairy scene filled with the thousand and one pictures of the Arabian Nights.
FOOTNOTES:
[55] Bhor, a Mahratta word for the jujube tree, Zizyphus jujuba, which is found among these mountains. The Ghauts, or "Landing-Stairs," are the two ranges of mountains extending along the eastern and western shores of the peninsula of Hindostan. The highest peaks in the north-western part are found in the Mahablashwar Mountains, the summer retreat of the Europeans of Bombay.
[56] From Dakshina (Sanskrit), "South Country."
[57] This chain is now bridged over by a viaduct which once crumbled down and disappeared into the depths below in the presence of a brave English engine-driver, who had the good fortune to arrest the train, that was speeding on its way toward it, just in time to save many valuable lives.