The Hounds—A Gumuki—The Eade—Trelawny—The Rev. J. Wolff—The Nut Log—Balancing Goat—Sirrākee Grass—A Dividend—Ear-rings of Jasmine—A Rat given to a Cow—The Mādār—Enamelled Grasshoppers—The Shaddock—The Agra Gun—Corruption of words—Variegated Locusts—Beautiful Flowers.
1833, Feb. 1st.—The new hounds have just arrived; such little animals by the side of Jan Peter (Trumpeter) and Racer! Out of eight couple there is not a good dog; the gentlemen say three hundred rupees, i.e. £30, is a long price for dogs not worth their food, and who would be better out of than in the pack.
At the fair to-day, I purchased a gumuki, a sort of loose bag, the shape of a carpenter’s square, large enough to admit the hand at one end, but sewed up at the other. It is made of blue cloth, embroidered with figures of the holy cow. A Hindoo will perform pooja seated on the ground, his right hand passed into a bag of this sort. His hand holds, and he counts most sedulously, a rosary of round beads (mālā), containing in number one hundred and eight, exclusive of connecting beads, differently shaped: the attention is abstractedly fixed on the deity, assisted by the rosary. Sometimes it is composed of amber, sometimes of certain rough berries sacred to the gods. Such rosaries, when used to promote abstraction, are called jap-mālā. During the time, a cloth is bound over his mouth, to prevent the entrance of insects; and he is supposed to be in holy meditation.
Feb. 22nd.—To-day is the Eed: it is customary for the Musulmāns to put on very gay new clothes on this day, and to go to prayers at the Jāmma Musjid, the large mosque on the banks of the Jumna. A camel is often sacrificed on the Buckra Eed, on the idea that the animal will be in readiness to carry the person who offers it over the bridge of Sirraat, safe to heaven. The poorer classes will offer a goat (Buckra), or a sheep, lambs, or kids. This festival is to commemorate Abraham’s sacrifice of Isaac. The Musulmāns contend it was Ishmael not Isaac who was the offering.
I have lost my companion, my horse Trelawny: he was so quiet, and good-tempered, and good-looking; he was as pretty a boy as Hindoo or Musulmān might look on in the Central Provinces. Poor Trelawny, Jumna-jee rolls over my good steed! He died this morning of inflammation, caused by some internal injury he received when we were plunging together in the quicksands on the banks of the Ganges.
I am reading Captain Mundy’s “Sketches in India,” a much more amusing journal than I can write. I have no tigers to kill, no hurdwar to visit; nor have I even seen the taj. His journal is very spirited, very correct, and very amusing; I am pleased to hear the praises bestowed upon it in England.
Have you heard of the Rev. Joseph Wolff? He is a German Jew converted to the faith of Christ: “Unto the Jews a stumbling-block, and unto the Greeks foolishness.” He roams about the world in search of the lost tribes of Israel, “preaching Christ, and him crucified,” in the churches, and delivering lectures on the subject of the divinity of our Saviour, and his own wanderings. When at Simla, he was with Lord William Bentinck, and preached every Sunday in the presence of the Governor-general, which he would not have been allowed to do had he not been an ordained clergyman. He arrived here three days ago. In the evening he delivered a lecture in the Fort, which was attended by all the inhabitants of Allahabad. Curiosity is, I fear, stronger than religion; for I never before saw the church so crowded.
My husband accompanied me to hear Mr. Wolff. He is a strange and most curious-looking man; in stature short and thin; and his weak frame appears very unfit to bear the trials and hardships to which he has been, and will be, exposed in his travels. His face is very flat, deeply marked with small-pox; his complexion that of dough, and his hair flaxen. His grey eyes roll and start, and fix themselves, at times, most fearfully; they have a cast in them, which renders their expression still wilder. Being a German, and by birth a Jew, his pronunciation of English is very remarkable; at times it is difficult to understand him: however, his foreign accent only gives originality to his lectures, aided occasionally by vehement gesticulation. His voice is deep and impressive; at times, having given way to great and deep enthusiasm, and having arrested the attention of his hearers, he sinks at once down into some common-place remark, his voice becoming a most curious treble, the effect of which is so startling, one can scarcely refrain from laughter. He understands English very well; his language is excellent, but evidently borrowed more from reading than from conversation. He makes use of words never used in common parlance, but always well and forcibly applied. He carries you along with him in his travels, presenting before you the different scenes he has witnessed, and pointing out those customs and manners still in use, which prove the truth of Scripture. His descriptions at times are very forcible, and his account of the lives of St. Augustine and other holy men very interesting.
In the midst of his discourse he said, “It is the custom in Jerusalem, every Friday, for the Jews, the veils over their heads, in mourning and lamentation, to proceed to the ruins of the walls of Jerusalem: for this they pay tribute to the Turks. I will give you an idea of the hymn they sing—the whole congregation:—