Before the temples of Dūrga thousands of animals are annually slaughtered and offered to her image. In the portico is represented the sacrifice of a goat; the officiating Brahman, after bathing it, either in the river or in the house, puts his left hand on its forehead, marks its horns and forehead with red-lead, and repeats an invocation, in which he offers it up to the goddess thus: “O goddess, I sacrifice this goat to thee, that I may live in thy heaven to the end of ten years.” He then reads an incantation in its ear, and puts flowers and sprinkles water on its head. The instrument with which the animal is to be killed is next consecrated; the goat’s head is then put into an upright post, excavated at the top so as to admit the neck between its forks, the body remaining on one side the post and the head on the other; after which the executioner cuts off the head with one blow. After all the animals have been thus killed, and some of the flesh and the heads carried before the image, the officiating Brahman repeats certain prayers over these offerings and presents them to the goddess.

The square pillars of the building are of pure Hindostānī architecture, very singular, and elaborately carved.

OFFERING OF LIGHTS TO THE RIVER.

Having witnessed the nāch and some of the ceremonies of the Dūrga-pūjā festival, we now quit the illuminated area, and pass into the beautiful, the delicious moonlight of the East. Some Bengalī huts are beneath the trees; a chaukīdar, or native watchman, is standing before his hut, formed of straw and bamboo, on which his shield is hung; and a native beyond is cooking his evening meal.

The soft moonlight falls upon the river, and upon its bank several Bengalī women are sending off little paper boats, each containing a lamp. With what earnestness they watch these little fire-fly boats, in which they have adventured their happiness, as they float down the stream! If at the moment the paper boat disappears in the distance the lamp is still burning, the wish of the votary will be crowned with success; but, if the lamp be extinguished, the hope for which the offering was made will be doomed to disappointment. With what eagerness does the mother watch the little light, to know if her child will or will not recover from sickness! At times, the river is covered with fleets of these little lamps, hurried along by the rapid stream. Even when it is not in honour of any particular festival, natives may be seen offering lamps to Ganga (the Ganges), the sacred river.

A pataīla (a country vessel), and two oolāks are now in view; the natives always moor their vessels during the night, it being dangerous to proceed on the river during the hours of darkness.

THE MURDA GHĀT.

We now cross to the opposite side, the left bank of the Hoogly, to a murda ghāt, a spot where the funeral rites of the Hindūs are performed. The nearest relative, as is the custom, is stirring up the body, and pushing it into the flames with a long pole; much oil and ghī (clarified butter) is poured over the wood, to make it burn fiercely: in all probability the son of the deceased is performing the ceremony. We read of the Romans burning their dead, regard it in a classical light, and think of it without disgust; but when we see the ceremony really performed, it is very painful: nevertheless, a sort of absurdity is mixed with it in the mind, as “Stir him up with the long pole” flashes across the memory. On the conclusion of the ceremony, the relatives bathe and return to their homes. The charpāī, or native bed, on which the corpse is carried down to the river side, being reckoned unclean, is generally thrown into the stream, or left on the bank. If a large quantity of wood and ghī be consumed, we may imagine the deceased to have been a rich man; the relatives of the very poor scarcely do more than scorch the body, and throw it into the river, where it floats swollen and scorched—a horrible sight. The burning of the body is one of the first ceremonies the Hindūs perform for the help of the dead in a future state. If this ceremony have not been attended to, the rites for the repose of the soul cannot be performed.

Perched on the house-top are three vultures, and an hargīla, or adjutant, awaiting the time that they may pounce upon the remains of the corpse, when it is consigned to the holy river. These insatiate birds of prey perch upon the abutting walls, waiting their opportunity to descend; whilst others, repulsed by the attendants of the funeral fires, fly heavily across the river, passing across the native boats, through the tattered sails of which you might almost mark their flight. It is a sickening sight, rendered infinitely more sickening by the abominable effluvium which issues from the bank of death, in spite of the scented wood and other odoriferous substances, that are placed upon the funeral pile of a rich Hindū, and burnt with the body. This custom illustrates the text, “So shall they burn odours for thee.” (Jeremiah xxxiv. 5.) The Hindūs believe, that persons for whom funeral rites have not been performed, wander as ghosts, and find no rest.

An English gentleman travelling dāk is standing on the bank; he has just crossed over, and is watching the bearers who are getting his palanquin out of the boat. Dāk journeys are usually performed, during the hot weather, by night, and the traveller rests at some house during the day. Of a moonlight night a dāk trip is far from being disagreeable.