26th.—Passed Chunar;—the place had lost much of the beauty it displayed during the rains. A khidmatgār fell overboard, passed under the vessel from head to stern, and was picked up by the boat just as he was on the point of sinking. The skin was torn off the old man’s scalp; he received no further injury. The next day, to my astonishment, he was in attendance on his master at dinner-time, and seemed to think nothing of having been scalped by the steamer!

27th.—Received fruit and vegetables from an old friend at Mirzapore. I am weary of the voyage, the heat for the last few days has been so oppressive: very gladly shall I return to the quiet and coolness of my own home. Aground several times on sandbanks.

29th.—Started early, and arrived within sight of the Fort; were again fixed on a sandbank; the river is very shallow at this time of the year. With the greatest difficulty we reached the ghāt on the Jumna, near the Masjid, and were glad to find ourselves at the end of the voyage. My husband came down to receive and welcome me, and drive me home. The great dog Nero nearly tore me to pieces in his delight. Her Highness the Bāiza Bā’ī sent her people down to the ghāt to make salām on my landing, to welcome and congratulate me on my return, and to say she wished to see me.

It was pleasant to be thus warmly received, and to find myself once more in my cool and comfortable home on the banks of the Jumna-jee after all the heat and fatigue of the voyage.

The Brija Bā’ī, one of the Mahratta ladies, was delighted to see me once again, and performed a certain sort of blessing called balaiyā lenā, or taking all another’s evils on one’s self; which ceremony she performed by drawing her hands over my head, and cracking her fingers on her own temples, in token of taking all my misfortunes upon herself. This mode of blessing I have many times seen performed both by men and women, our dependents and servants, both towards my husband and myself, on our bestowing any particular benefit upon them; it expressed the depth of their gratitude.

April 6th.—The small-pox is making great ravages; some of our friends have fallen victims. Lord William Bentinck did away with the vaccine department, to save a few rupees; from which economy many have lost their lives. It is a dreadful illness, the small-pox in this country. People are in a fright respecting the plague; they say it is at Palee, and has approached the borders of the Company’s territories; we have fevers, cholera, and deadly illnesses enough, without the plague; it is to be trusted that will not be added to the evils of this climate.

The Palee plague, they say, after all, is not the genuine thing: it has not as yet entered our territories; however, the Government of Agra have very wisely adopted preventive measures, and have established boards of health, cordons, and quarantine, with the usual measures as to fumigations and disinfectants. It would be really too bad to give this stranger a playground, in addition to our old friends fever and cholera, already domesticated.

15th.—The first time of using the thermantidote was this morning: how delightful was the stream of cool air it sent into the hot room! how grateful is the coolness and darkness of the house, in contrast to the heat and glare on the river!

15th.—This day is the anniversary of the birthday of the Gaja Rājā Sāhib, and she has sent me an invitation to accompany her to the Trivenī, the sacred junction of the rivers, to see her perform a vow, made for her by her mother. The young Princess from her birth was very sickly, and the mother, fearing the death of her infant, vowed to Mahadēo that if the god would preserve her life, she should do pooja as a fakīr, at the shrine, on each anniversary of her natal day. The time having arrived, the young Mahratta Princess will perform the vow in the evening. How much I regret I am unable to attend; unfortunately illness prevents my quitting the house. Picture to yourself the extraordinary scene. The young Princess doing pooja before the shrine of Mahadēo, a descent on earth of Shivŭ the destroyer. Her delicate form covered from head to foot with a mixture of ashes and Ganges mud; her long black hair matted with the same, and bound round her head like a turban; her attire the skin of a tiger; her necklace of human bones, a rosary in her hand, and a human skull for an alms-dish,—a religious mendicant; or making discordant music on a sort of double-headed hand-drum used by fakīrs, and wandering about within the canvas walls of the zenāna tent like a maniac! The skull borne by religious mendicants is to represent that of Brŭmha. Shivŭ, in a quarrel, cut off one of Brŭmha’s five heads, and made an alms-dish of it. As the Gaja Rājā appeared as a religious mendicant, the form in which the lord of the Bhōōtŭs appeared on earth, I hope some of the ladies represented the latter, a number of whom always attended Shivŭ. The Bhōōtŭs are beings partly in human shape, though some of them have the faces of horses, others of camels, others of monkeys, &c.; some have the bodies of horses, and the faces of men; some have one leg, and some two; some have only one ear, and others only one eye. They would have made charming attendants on the little Princess, who, wrapped in a tiger’s skin, and wandering like a maniac, performed, before the shrine of Mahadēo, the vow made in her name by her mother at her birth!