FROM THE CAVES AND JUNGLES OF HINDOSTAN

By Helena Petrovna Blavatsky

Translated From The Russian

Translator's Preface

"You must remember, " said Mme. Blavatsky, "that I never meant this for ascientific work. My letters to the Russian Messenger, under the generaltitle: 'From the Caves and Jungles of Hindostan, ' were written inleisure moments, more for amusement than with any serious design. 

"Broadly speaking, the facts and incidents are true; but I have freelyavailed myself of an author's privilege to group, colour, and dramatizethem, whenever this seemed necessary to the full artistic effect;though, as I say, much of the book is exactly true, l would rather claimkindly judgment for it, as a romance of travel, than incur the criticalrisks that haunt an avowedly serious work. "

To this caution of the author's, the translator must add another; theseletters, as Mme Blavatsky says, were written in leisure moments, during1879 and 1880, for the pages of the Russki Vyestnik, then edited by M. Katkoff. Mme. Blavatsky's manuscript was often incorrect; often obscure. The Russian compositors, though they did their best to render faithfullythe Indian names and places, often produced, through their ignorance ofOriental tongues, forms which are strange, and sometimes unrecognizable. The proof-sheets were never corrected by the author, who was then inIndia; and, in consequence, it has been impossible to restore all thelocal and personal names to their proper form. 

A similar difficulty has arisen with reference to quotations andcited authorities, all of which have gone through a double process ofrefraction: first into Russian, then into English. The translator, alsoa Russian, and far from perfectly acquainted with English, cannotclaim to possess the erudition necessary to verify and restore the manyquotations to verbal accuracy; all that is hoped is that, by a carefulrendering, the correct sense has been preserved. 

The translator begs the indulgence of English readers for allimperfections of style and language; in the words of the Sanskritproverb: "Who is to be blamed, if success be not reached after dueeffort?"

The translator's best thanks are due to Mr. John C. Staples, forvaluable help in the early chapters. --London, July, 1892

Contents

 In Bombay On the Way to Karli In the Karli Caves Vanished Glories A City of the Dead Brahmanic Hospitalities A Witch's Den God's Warrior The Banns of Marriage The Caves of Bagh An Isle of Mystery Jubblepore

FROM THE CAVES AND JUNGLES OF HINDOSTAN

In Bombay

Late in the evening of the sixteenth of February, 1879, after a roughvoyage which lasted thirty-two days, joyful exclamations were heardeverywhere on deck. "Have you seen the lighthouse?" "There it is atlast, the Bombay lighthouse. "

Cards, books, music, everything was forgotten. Everyone rushed on deck. The moon had not risen as yet, and, in spite of the starry tropical sky, it was quite dark. The stars were so bright that, at first, it seemedhardly possible to distinguish, far away amongst them, a small fierypoint lit by earthly hands. The stars winked at us like so many hugeeyes in the black sky, on one side of which shone the Southern Cross. At last we distinguished the lighthouse on the distant horizon. It wasnothing but a tiny fiery point diving in the phosphorescent waves. Thetired travellers greeted it warmly. The rejoicing was general. 

What a glorious daybreak followed this dark night! The sea no longertossed our ship. Under the skilled guidance of the pilot, who had justarrived, and whose bronze form was so sharply defined against the palesky, our steamer, breathing heavily with its broken machinery, slippedover the quiet, transparent waters of the Indian Ocean straight tothe harbour. We were only four miles from Bombay, and, to us, who hadtrembled with cold only a few weeks ago in the Bay of Biscay, which hasbeen so glorified by many poets and so heartily cursed by all sailors, our surroundings simply seemed a magical dream. 

After the tropical nights of the Red Sea and the scorching hot daysthat had tortured us since Aden, we, people of the distant North, nowexperienced something strange and unwonted, as if the very fresh softair had cast its spell over us. There was not a cloud in the sky, thickly strewn with dying stars. Even the moonlight, which till then hadcovered the sky with its silvery garb, was gradually vanishing; and thebrighter grew the rosiness of dawn over the small island that lay beforeus in the East, the paler in the West grew the scattered rays of themoon that sprinkled with bright flakes of light the dark wake our shipleft behind her, as if the glory of the West was bidding good-bye to us, while the light of the East welcomed the newcomers from far-off lands. Brighter and bluer grew the sky, swiftly absorbing the remaining palestars one after the other, and we felt something touching in thesweet dignity with which the Queen of Night resigned her rights to thepowerful usurper. At last, descending lower and lower, she disappearedcompletely. 

And suddenly, almost without interval between darkness and light, thered-hot globe, emerging on the opposite side from under the cape, leanthis golden chin on the lower rocks of the island and seemed to stop fora while, as if examining us. Then, with one powerful effort, the torchof day rose high over the sea and gloriously proceeded on its path, including in one mighty fiery embrace the blue waters of the bay, theshore and the islands with their rocks and cocoanut forests. His goldenrays fell upon a crowd of Parsees, his rightful worshippers, who stoodon shore raising their arms towards the mighty "Eye of Ormuzd. " Thesight was so impressive that everyone on deck became silent for amoment, even a red-nosed old sailor, who was busy quite close to us overthe cable, stopped working, and, clearing his throat, nodded at the sun. 

Moving slowly and cautiously along the charming but treacherous bay, wehad plenty of time to admire the picture around us. On the right was agroup of islands with Gharipuri or Elephanta, with its ancient temple, at their head. Gharipuri translated means "the town of caves" accordingto the Orientalists, and "the town of purification" according to thenative Sanskrit scholars. This temple, cut out by an unknown hand inthe very heart of a rock resembling porphyry, is a true apple ofdiscord amongst the archaeologists, of whom none can as yet fix, evenapproximately, its antiquity. Elephanta raises high its rocky brow, allovergrown with secular cactus, and right under it, at the foot of therock, are hollowed out the chief temple and the two lateral ones. Likethe serpent of our Russian fairy tales, it seems to be opening itsfierce black mouth to swallow the daring mortal who comes to takepossession of the secret mystery of Titan. Its two remaining teeth, darkwith time, are formed by two huge pillars t the entrance, sustaining thepalate of the monster. 

How many generations of Hindus, how many races, have knelt in thedust before the Trimurti, your threefold deity, O Elephanta? How manycenturies were spent by weak man in digging out in your stone bosom thistown of temples and carving your gigantic idols? Who can say? Many yearshave elapsed since I saw you last, ancient, mysterious temple, and stillthe same restless thoughts, the same recurrent questions vex me snow asthey did then, and still remain unanswered. In a few days we shall seeeach other again. Once more I shall gaze upon your stern image, uponyour three huge granite faces, and shall feel as hopeless as ever ofpiercing the mystery of your being. This secret fell into safe handsthree centuries before ours. It is not in vain that the old Portuguesehistorian Don Diego de Cuta boasts that "the big square stone fastenedover the arch of the pagoda with a distinct inscription, having beentorn out and sent as a present to the King Dom Juan III, disappearedmysteriously in the course of time. .. . , " and adds, further, "Close tothis big pagoda there stood another, and farther on even a third one, the most wonderful of all in beauty, incredible size, and richness ofmaterial. All those pagodas and caves have been built by the Kings ofKanada, (?) the most important of whom was Bonazur, and these buildingsof Satan our (Portuguese) soldiers attacked with such vehemence that ina few years one stone was not left upon another. .. . " And, worst ofall, they left no inscriptions that might have given a clue to so much. Thanks to the fanaticism of Portuguese soldiers, the chronology of theIndian cave temples must remain for ever an enigma to the archaeologicalworld, beginning with the Brah-mans, who say Elephanta is 374, 000 yearsold, and ending with Fergusson, who tries to prove that it was carvedonly in the twelfth century of our era. Whenever one turns one's eyes tohistory, there is nothing to be found but hypotheses and darkness. Andyet Gharipuri is mentioned in the epic Mahabharata, which was written, according to Colebrooke and Wilson, a good while before the reign ofCyrus. In another ancient legend it is said that the temple of Trimurtiwas built on Elephanta by the sons of Pandu, who took part in the warbetween the dynasties of the Sun and the Moon, and, belonging to thelatter, were expelled at the end of the war. The Rajputs, who are thedescendants of the first, still sing of this victory; but even in theirpopular songs there is nothing positive. Centuries have passed and willpass, and the ancient secret will die in the rocky bosom of the cavestill unrecorded. 

On the left side of the bay, exactly opposite Elephanta, and as if incontrast with all its antiquity and greatness, spreads the Malabar Hill, the residence of the modern Europeans and rich natives. Their brightlypainted bungalows are bathed in the greenery of banyan, Indian fig, andvarious other trees, and the tall and straight trunks of cocoanut palmscover with the fringe of their leaves the whole ridge of the hillyheadland. There, on the south-western end of the rock, you see thealmost transparent, lace-like Government House surrounded on threesides by the ocean. This is the coolest and the most comfortable part ofBombay, fanned by three different sea breezes. 

The island of Bombay, designated by the natives "Mambai, " received itsname from the goddess Mamba, in Mahrati Mahima, or Amba, Mama, and Amma, according to the dialect, a word meaning, literally, the Great Mother. Hardly one hundred years ago, on the site of the modern esplanade, therestood a temple consecrated to Mamba-Devi. With great difficulty andexpense they carried it nearer to the shore, close to the fort, anderected it in front of Baleshwara the "Lord of the Innocent"--one ofthe names of the god Shiva. Bombay is part of a considerable group ofislands, the most remarkable of which are Salsetta, joined to Bombay bya mole, Elephanta, so named by the Portuguese because of a huge rock cutin the shape of an elephant thirty-five feet long, and Trombay, whoselovely rock rises nine hundred feet above the surface of the sea. Bombaylooks, on the maps, like an enormous crayfish, and is at the head ofthe rest of the islands. Spreading far out into the sea its two claws, Bombay island stands like a sleepless guardian watching over his youngerbrothers. Between it and the Continent there is a narrow arm of a river, which gets gradually broader and then again narrower, deeply indentingthe sides of both shores, and so forming a haven that has no equal inthe world. It was not without reason that the Portuguese, expelled inthe course of time by the English, used to call it "Buona Bahia. "

In a fit of tourist exaltation some travellers have compared it to theBay of Naples; but, as a matter of fact, the one is as much like theother as a lazzaroni is like a Kuli. The whole resemblance between theformer consists in the fact that there is water in both. In Bombay, aswell as in its harbour, everything is original and does not in the leastremind one of Southern Europe. Look at those coasting vessels and nativeboats; both are built in the likeness of the sea bird "sat, " a kindof kingfisher. When in motion these boats are the personi-fication ofgrace, with their long prows and rounded poops. They look as if theywere gliding backwards, and one might mistake for wings the strangelyshaped, long lateen sails, their narrow angles fastened upwards to ayard. Filling these two wings with the wind, and careening, so as almostto touch the surface of the water, these boats will fly along withastonishing swiftness. Unlike our European boats, they do not cut thewaves, but glide over them like a sea-gull. 

The surroundings of the bay transported us to some fairy land of theArabian Nights. The ridge of the Western Ghats, cut through here andthere by some separate hills almost as high as themselves, stretched allalong the Eastern shore. From the base to their fantastic, rocky tops, they are all overgrown with impenetrable forests and jungles inhabitedby wild animals. Every rock has been enriched by the popular imaginationwith an independent legend. All over the slope of the mountain arescattered the pagodas, mosques, and temples of numberless sects. Hereand there the hot rays of the sun strike upon an old fortress, oncedreadful and inaccessible, now half ruined and covered with pricklycactus. At every step some memorial of sanctity. Here a deep vihara, a cave cell of a Buddhist bhikshu saint, there a rock protected by thesymbol of Shiva, further on a Jaina temple, or a holy tank, all coveredwith sedge and filled with water, once blessed by a Brahman and able topurify every sin, all indispensable attribute of all pagodas. All thesurroundings are covered with symbols of gods and goddesses. Each of thethree hundred and thirty millions of deities of the Hindu Pantheon hasits representative in something consecrated to it, a stone, a flower, atree, or a bird. On the West side of the Malabar Hill peeps through thetrees Valakeshvara, the temple of the "Lord of Sand. " A long stream ofHindus moves towards this celebrated temple; men and women, shining withrings on their fingers and toes, with bracelets from their wrists upto their elbows, clad in bright turbans and snow white muslins, withforeheads freshly painted with red, yellow, and white, holy sectariansigns. 

The legend says that Rama spent here a night on his way from Ayodhya(Oudh) to Lanka (Ceylon) to fetch his wife Sita who had been stolen bythe wicked King Ravana. Rama's brother Lakshman, whose duty it wasto send him daily a new lingam from Benares, was late in doing so oneevening. Losing patience, Rama erected for himself a lingam of sand. When, at last, the symbol arrived from Benares, it was put in a temple, and the lingam erected by Rama was left on the shore. There it stayedduring long centuries, but, at the arrival of the Portuguese, the "Lordof Sand" felt so disgusted with the feringhi (foreigners) that he jumpedinto the sea never to return. A little farther on there is a charmingtank, called Vanattirtha, or the "point of the arrow. " Here Rama, themuch worshipped hero of the Hindus, felt thirsty and, not finding anywater, shot an arrow and immediately there was created a pond. Itscrystal waters were surrounded by a high wall, steps were built leadingdown to it, and a circle of white marble dwellings was filled with dwija(twice born) Brahmans. 

India is the land of legends and of mysterious nooks and corners. Thereis not a ruin, not a monument, not a thicket, that has no story attachedto it. Yet, however they may be entangled in the cobweb of popularimagination, which becomes thicker with every generation, it isdifficult to point out a single one that is not founded on fact. Withpatience and, still more, with the help of the learned Brahmans youcan always get at the truth, when once you have secured their trust andfriendship. 

The same road leads to the temple of the Parsee fire-worshippers. At itsaltar burns an unquenchable fire, which daily consumes hundredweights ofsandal wood and aromatic herbs. Lit three hundred years ago, the sacredfire has never been extinguished, notwithstanding many disorders, sectarian discords, and even wars. The Parsees are very proud of thistemple of Zaratushta, as they call Zoroaster. Compared with it theHindu pagodas look like brightly painted Easter eggs. Generally they areconsecrated to Hanuman, the monkey-god and the faithful ally of Rama, orto the elephant headed Ganesha, the god of the occult wisdom, or to oneof the Devis. You meet with these temples in every street. Before eachthere is a row of pipals (Ficus religiosa) centuries old, which notemple can dispense with, because these trees are the abode of theelementals and the sinful souls. 

All this is entangled, mixed, and scattered, appearing to one's eyeslike a picture in a dream. Thirty centuries have left their traceshere. The innate laziness and the strong conservative tendencies ofthe Hindus, even before the European invasion, preserved all kinds ofmonuments from the ruinous vengeance of the fanatics, whether thosememorials were Buddhist, or belonged to some other unpopular sect. The Hindus are not naturally given to senseless vandalism, and aphrenologist would vainly look for a bump of destructiveness on theirskulls. If you meet with antiquities that, having been spared by time, are, nowadays, either destroyed or disfigured, it is not they who areto blame, but either Mussulmans, or the Portuguese under the guidance ofthe Jesuits. 

At last we were anchored and, in a moment, were besieged, ourselves aswell as our luggage, by numbers of naked skeleton-like Hindus, Parsees, Moguls, and various other tribes. All this crowd emerged, as if from thebottom of the sea, and began to shout, to chatter, and to yell, as onlythe tribes of Asia can. To get rid of this Babel confusion of tongues assoon as possible, we took refuge in the first bunder boat and made forthe shore. 

Once settled in the bungalow awaiting us, the first thing we were struckwith in Bombay was the millions of crows and vultures. The first are, soto speak, the County Council of the town, whose duty it is to clean thestreets, and to kill one of them is not only forbidden by the police, but would be very dangerous. By killing one you would rouse thevengeance of every Hindu, who is always ready to offer his own life inexchange for a crow's. The souls of the sinful forefathers transmigrateinto crows and to kill one is to interfere with the law of Karma andto expose the poor ancestor to something still worse. Such is the firmbelief, not only of Hindus, but of Parsees, even the most enlightenedamongst them. The strange behaviour of the Indian crows explains, toa certain extent, this superstition. The vultures are, in a way, thegrave-diggers of the Parsees and are under the personal protectionof the Farvardania, the angel of death, who soars over the Tower ofSilence, watching the occupations of the feathered workmen. 

The deafening caw of the crows strikes every new comer as uncanny, but, after a while, is explained very simply. Every tree of the numerouscocoa-nut forests round Bombay is provided with a hollow pumpkin. Thesap of the tree drops into it and, after fermenting, becomes a mostintoxicating beverage, known in Bombay under the name of toddy. Thenaked toddy wallahs, generally half-caste Portuguese, modestly adornedwith a single coral necklace, fetch this beverage twice a day, climbingthe hundred and fifty feet high trunks like squirrels. The crowsmostly build their nests on the tops of the cocoa-nut palms and drinkincessantly out of the open pumpkins. The result of this is the chronicintoxication of the birds. As soon as we went out in the garden of ournew habitation, flocks of crows came down heavily from every tree. Thenoise they make whilst jumping about everywhere is indescribable. Thereseemed to be something positively human in the positions of the slylybent heads of the drunken birds, and a fiendish light shone in theireyes while they were examining us from foot to head. 

We occupied three small bungalows, lost, like nests, in the garden, their roofs literally smothered in roses blossoming on bushes twentyfeet high, and their windows covered only with muslin, instead of theusual panes of glass. The bungalows were situated in the native part ofthe town, so that we were transported, all at once, into the real India. We were living in India, unlike English people, who are only surroundedby India at a certain distance. We were enabled to study her characterand customs, her religion, superstitions and rites, to learn herlegends, in fact, to live among Hindus. 

Everything in India, this land of the elephant and the poisonous cobra, of the tiger and the unsuccessful English missionary, is original andstrange. Everything seems unusual, unexpected, and striking, even to onewho has travelled in Turkey, Egypt, Damascus, and Palestine. In thesetropical regions the conditions of nature are so various that all theforms of the animal and vegetable kingdoms must radically differ fromwhat we are used to in Europe. Look, for instance, at those women ontheir way to a well through a garden, which is private and at the sametime open to anyone, because somebody's cows are grazing in it. To whomdoes it not happen to meet with women, to see cows, and admire a garden?Doubtless these are among the commonest of all things. But a singleattentive glance will suffice to show you the difference that existsbetween the same objects in Europe and in India. Nowhere more thanin India does a human being feel his weakness and insignificance. Themajesty of the tropical growth is such that our highest trees would lookdwarfed compared with banyans and especially with palms. A European cow, mistaking, at first sight, her Indian sister for a calf, would deny theexistence of any kinship between them, as neither the mouse-colouredwool, nor the straight goat-like horns, nor the humped back of thelatter would permit her to make such an error. As to the women, each ofthem would make any artist feel enthusiastic about the gracefulnessof her movements and drapery, but still, no pink and white, stout AnnaIvanovna would condescend to greet her. "Such a shame, God forgive me, the woman is entirely naked!"

This opinion of the modern Russian woman is nothing but the echo of whatwas said in 1470 by a distinguished Russian traveler, "the sinful slaveof God, Athanasius son of Nikita from Tver, " as he styles himself. Hedescribes India as follows: "This is the land of India. Its people arenaked, never cover their heads, and wear their hair braided. Women havebabies every year. Men and women are black. Their prince wears a veilround his head and wraps another veil round his legs. The noblemen weara veil on one shoulder, and the noblewomen on the shoulders and roundthe loins, but everyone is barefooted. The women walk about with theirhair spread and their breasts naked. The children, boys and girls, nevercover their shame until they are seven years old. .. . " This descriptionis quite correct, but Athanasius Nikita's son is right only concerningthe lowest and poorest classes. These really do "walk about" coveredonly with a veil, which often is so poor that, in fact, it is nothingbut a rag. But still, even the poorest woman is clad in a piece ofmuslin at least ten yards long. One end serves as a sort of shortpetticoat, and the other covers the head and shoulders when out in thestreet, though the faces are always uncovered. The hair is erected intoa kind of Greek chignon. The legs up to the knees, the arms, and thewaist are never covered. There is not a single respectable woman whowould consent to put on a pair of shoes. Shoes are the attribute and theprerogative of disreputable women. When, some time ago, the wife of theMadras governor thought of passing a law that should induce nativewomen to cover their breasts, the place was actually threatened witha revolution. A kind of jacket is worn only by dancing girls. TheGovernment recognized that it would be unreasonable to irritate women, who, very often, are more dangerous than their husbands and brothers, and the custom, based on the law of Manu, and sanctified by threethousand years' observance, remained unchanged. 

For more than two years before we left America we were in constantcorrespondence with a certain learned Brahman, whose glory is greatat present (1879) all over India. We came to India to study, under hisguidance, the ancient country of Aryas, the Vedas, and their difficultlanguage. His name is Dayanand Saraswati Swami. Swami is the name of thelearned anchorites who are initiated into many mysteries unattainable bycommon mortals. They are monks who never marry, but are quite differentfrom other mendicant brotherhoods, the so-called Sannyasi and Hossein. This Pandit is considered the greatest Sanskritist of modern Indiaand is an absolute enigma to everyone. It is only five years sincehe appeared on the arena of great reforms, but till then, he lived, entirely secluded, in a jungle, like the ancient gymnosophists mentionedby the Greek and Latin authors. At this time he was studying the chiefphilosophical systems of the "Aryavartta" and the occult meaning of theVedas with the help of mystics and anchorites. All Hindus believe thaton the Bhadrinath Mountains (22, 000 feet above the level of the sea)there exist spacious caves, inhabited, now for many thousand years, bythese anchorites. Bhadrinath is situated in the north of Hindustan onthe river Bishegunj, and is celebrated for its temple of Vishnu right inthe heart of the town. Inside the temple there are hot mineral springs, visited yearly by about fifty thousand pilgrims, who come to be purifiedby them. 

From the first day of his appearance Dayanand Saraswati producedan immense impression and got the surname of the "Luther of India. "Wandering from one town to another, today in the South, tomorrow in theNorth, and transporting himself from one end of the country to anotherwith incredible quickness, he has visited every part of India, from CapeComorin to the Himalayas, and from Calcutta to Bombay. He preaches theOne Deity and, "Vedas in hand, " proves that in the ancient writingsthere was not a word that could justify polytheism. Thundering againstidol worship, the great orator fights with all his might against caste, infant marriages, and superstitions. Chastising all the evils grafted onIndia by centuries of casuistry and false interpretation of the Vedas, he blames for them the Brahmans, who, as he openly says before masses ofpeople, are alone guilty of the humiliation of their country, once greatand independent, now fallen and enslaved. And yet Great Britain has inhim not an enemy, but rather an ally. He says openly--"If you expel theEnglish, then, no later than tomorrow, you and I and everyone who risesagainst idol worship will have our throats cut like mere sheep. TheMussulmans are stronger than the idol worshippers; but these lastare stronger than we. " The Pandit held many a warm dispute with theBrah-mans, those treacherous enemies of the people, and has almostalways been victorious. In Benares secret assassins were hired to slayhim, but the attempt did not succeed. In a small town of Bengal, wherehe treated fetishism with more than his usual severity, some fanaticthrew on his naked feet a huge cobra. There are two snakes deified bythe Brahman mythology: the one which surrounds the neck of Shiva on hisidols is called Vasuki; the other, Ananta, forms the couch of Vishnu. Sothe worshipper of Shiva, feeling sure that his cobra, trained purposelyfor the mysteries of a Shivaite pagoda, would at once make an end ofthe offender's life, triumphantly exclaimed, "Let the god Vasuki himselfshow which of us is right!"

Dayanand jerked off the cobra twirling round his leg, and with a singlevigorous movement, crushed the reptile's head. "Let him do so, " hequietly assented. "Your god has been too slow. It is I who have decidedthe dispute, Now go, " added he, addressing the crowd, "and tell everyonehow easily perish the false gods. "

Thanks to his excellent knowledge of Sanskrit the Pandit does a greatservice, not only to the masses, clearing their ignorance about themonotheism of the Vedas, but to science too, showing who, exactly, arethe Brahmans, the only caste in India which, during centuries, had theright to study Sanskrit literature and comment on the Vedas, and whichused this right solely for its own advantage. 

Long before the time of such Orientalists as Burnouf, Colebrooke and MaxMuller, there have been in India many reformers who tried to prove thepure monotheism of the Vedic doctrines. There have even been foundersof new religions who denied the revelations of these scriptures; forinstance, the Raja Ram Mohun Roy, and, after him, Babu Keshub ChunderSen, both Calcutta Bengalees. But neither of them had much success. Theydid nothing but add new denominations to the numberless sects existingin India. Ram Mohun Roy died in England, having done next to nothing, and Keshub Chunder Sen, having founded the community of "Brahmo-Samaj, "which professes a religion extracted from the depths of the Babu's ownimagination, became a mystic of the most pronounced type, and nowis only "a berry from the same field, " as we say in Russia, as theSpiritualists, by whom he is considered to be a medium and a CalcuttaSwedenborg. He spends his time in a dirty tank, singing praises toChaitanya, Koran, Buddha, and his own person, proclaiming himself theirprophet, and performs a mystical dance, dressed in woman's attire, which, on his part, is an attention to a "woman goddess" whom the Babucalls his "mother, father and eldest brother. "

In short, all the attempts to re-establish the pure primitive monotheismof Aryan India have been a failure. They always got wrecked upon thedouble rock of Brahmanism and of prejudices centuries old. But lo! hereappears unexpectedly the pandit Dayanand. None, even of the mostbeloved of his disciples, knows who he is and whence he comes. He openlyconfesses before the crowds that the name under which he is known is nothis, but was given to him at the Yogi initiation. 

The mystical school of Yogis was established by Patanjali, the founderof one of the six philosophical systems of ancient India. It is supposedthat the Neo-platonists of the second and third Alexandrian Schools werethe followers of Indian Yogis, more especially was their theurgy broughtfrom India by Pythagoras, according to the tradition. There still existin India hundreds of Yogis who follow the system of Patanjali, andassert that they are in communion with Brahma. Nevertheless, most ofthem are do-nothings, mendicants by profession, and great frauds, thanksto the insatiable longing of the natives for miracles. The real Yogisavoid appearing in public, and spend their lives in secluded retirementand studies, except when, as in Dayanand's case, they come forth intime of need to aid their country. However, it is perfectly certain thatIndia never saw a more learned Sanskrit scholar, a deeper metaphysician, a more wonderful orator, and a more fearless denunciator of every evil, than Dayanand, since the time of Sankharacharya, the celebrated founderof the Vedanta philosophy, the most metaphysical of Indian systems, in fact, the crown of pantheistic teaching. Then, Dayanand's personalappearance is striking. He is immensely tall, his complexion is pale, rather European than Indian, his eyes are large and bright, and hisgreyish hair is long. The Yogis and Dikshatas (initiated) never cuteither their hair or beard. His voice is clear and loud, well calculatedto give expression to every shade of deep feeling, ranging from a sweetchildish caressing whisper to thundering wrath against the evil doingsand falsehoods of the priests. All this taken together produces anindescribable effect on the impressionable Hindu. Wherever Dayanandappears crowds prostrate themselves in the dust over his footprints;but, unlike Babu Keshub Chunder Sen, he does not teach a newreligion, does not invent new dogmas. He only asks them to renew theirhalf-forgotten Sanskrit studies, and, having compared the doctrines oftheir forefathers with what they have become in the hands of Brahmans, to return to the pure conceptions of Deity taught by the primitiveRishis--Agni, Vayu, Aditya, and Anghira--the patriarchs who first gavethe Vedas to humanity. He does not even claim that the Vedas are aheavenly revelation, but simply teaches that "every word in thesescriptures belongs to the highest inspiration possible to the earthlyman, an inspiration that is repeated in the history of humanity, and, when necessary, may happen to any nation. .. .. "

During his five years of work Swami Dayanand made about two millionproselytes, chiefly amongst the higher castes. Judging by appearances, they are all ready to sacrifice to him their lives and souls and eventheir earthly possessions, which are often more precious to them thantheir lives. But Dayanand is a real Yogi, he never touches money, anddespises pecuniary affairs. He contents himself with a few handfuls ofrice per day. One is inclined to think that this wonderful Hindu bearsa charmed life, so careless is he of rousing the worst human passions, which are so dangerous in India. A marble statue could not be less movedby the raging wrath of the crowd. We saw him once at work. He sent awayall his faithful followers and forbade them either to watch over himor to defend him, and stood alone before the infuriated crowd, facingcalmly the monster ready to spring upon him and tear him to pieces. 

Here a short explanation is necessary. A few years ago a society ofwell-informed, energetic people was formed in New York. A certainsharp-witted savant surnamed them "La Societe des Malcontents duSpiritisme. " The founders of this club were people who, believing in thephenomena of spiritualism as much as in the possibility of every otherphenomenon in Nature, still denied the theory of the "spirits. " Theyconsidered that the modern psychology was a science still in the firststages of its development, in total ignorance of the nature of thepsychic man, and denying, as do many other sciences, all that cannot beexplained according to its own particular theories. 

From the first days of its existence some of the most learned Americansjoined the Society, which became known as the Theosophical Society. Itsmembers differed on many points, much as do the members of any otherSociety, Geographical or Archeological, which fights for years overthe sources of the Nile, or the Hieroglyphs of Egypt. But everyone isunanimously agreed that, as long as there is water in the Nile, its sources must exist somewhere. So much about the phenomena ofspiritualism and mesmerism. These phenomena were still waiting theirChampollion--but the Rosetta stone was to be searched for neither inEurope nor in America, but in the far-away countries where they stillbelieve in magic, where wonders are performed daily by the nativepriesthood, and where the cold materialism of science has never yetreached--in one word, in the East. 

The Council of the Society knew that the Lama-Buddhists, for instance, though not believing in God, and denying the personal immortality of thesoul, are yet celebrated for their "phenomena, " and that mesmerism wasknown and daily practised in China from time immemorial under the nameof "gina. " In India they fear and hate the very name of the spirits whomthe Spiritualists venerate so deeply, yet many an ignorant fakir canperform "miracles" calculated to turn upside-down all the notions ofa scientist and to be the despair of the most celebrated of Europeanprestidigitateurs. Many members of the Society have visited India--manywere born there and have themselves witnessed the "sorceries" of theBrahmans. The founders of the Club, well aware of the depth of modernignorance in regard to the spiritual man, were most anxious thatCuvier's method of comparative anatomy should acquire rights ofcitizenship among metaphysicians, and, so, progress from regionsphysical to regions psychological on its own inductive and deductivefoundation. "Otherwise, " they thought, "psychology will be unable tomove forward a single step, and may even obstruct every other branch ofNatural History. " Instances have not been wanting of physiology poachingon the preserves of purely metaphysical and abstract knowledge, allthe time feigning to ignore the latter absolutely, and seeking to classpsychology with the positive sciences, having first bound it to a Bedof Procrustes, where it refuses to yield its secret to its clumsytormentors. 

In a short time the Theosophical Society counted its members, notby hundreds, but by thousands. All the "malcontents" of AmericanSpiritualism--and there were at that time twelve million Spiritualistsin America--joined the Society. Collateral branches were formed inLondon, Corfu, Australia, Spain, Cuba, California, etc. Everywhereexperiments were being performed, and the conviction that it is notspirits alone who are the causes of the phenomena was becoming general. 

In course of time branches of the Society were in India and in Ceylon. The Buddhist and Brahmanical members became more numerous than theEuropeans. A league was formed, and to the name of the Society wasadded the subtitle, "The Brotherhood of Humanity. " After an activecorrespondence between the Arya-Samaj, founded by Swami Dayanand, andthe Theosophical Society, an amalgamation was arranged between thetwo bodies. Then the Chief Council of the New York branch decided uponsending a special delegation to India, for the purpose of studying, onthe spot, the ancient language of the Vedas and the manuscripts andthe wonders of Yogism. On the 17th of December, 1878, the delegation, composed of two secretaries and two members of the council of theTheosophical Society, started from New York, to pause for a while inLondon, and then to proceed to Bombay, where it landed in February, 1879. 

It may easily be conceived that, under these circumstances, the membersof the delegation were better able to study the country and to makefruitful researches than might, otherwise, have been the case. Todaythey are looked upon as brothers and aided by the most influentialnatives of India. They count among the members of their societypandits of Benares and Calcutta, and Buddhist priests of the CeylonViharas--amongst others the learned Sumangala, mentioned by Minayeffin the description of his visit to Adam's Peak--and Lamas of Thibet, Burmah, Travancore and elsewhere. The members of the delegation areadmitted to sanctuaries where, as yet, no European has set his foot. Consequently they may hope to render many services to Humanity andScience, in spite of the illwill which the representatives of positivescience bear to them. 

As soon as the delegation landed, a telegram was despatched to Dayanand, as everyone was anxious to make his personal acquaintance. In reply, hesaid that he was obliged to go immediately to Hardwar, where hundreds ofthousands of pilgrims were expected to assemble, but he insisted onour remaining behind, since cholera was certain to break out among thedevotees. He appointed a certain spot, at the foot of the Himalayas, inthe jab, where we were to meet in a month's time. 

Alas! all this was written some time ago. Since then Swami Dayanand'scountenance has changed completely toward us. He is, now, an enemy ofthe Theosophical Society and its two founders--Colonel Olcott and theauthor of these letters. It appeared that, on entering into an offensiveand defensive alliance with the Society, Dayanand nourished thehope that all its members, Christians, Brahmans and Buddhists, wouldacknowledge His supremacy, and become members of the Arya Samaj. 

Needless to say, this was impossible. The Theosophical Society rests onthe principle of complete non-interference with the religious beliefsof its members. Toleration is its basis and its aims are purelyphilosophical. This did not suit Dayanand. He wanted all the members, either to become his disciples, or to be expelled from the Society. Itwas quite clear that neither the President, nor the Council could assentto such a claim. Englishmen and Americans, whether they were Christiansor Freethinkers, Buddhists, and especially Brahmans, revolted againstDayanand, and unanimously demanded that the league should be broken. 

However, all this happened later. At the time of which I speak we werefriends and allies of the Swami, and we learned with deep interest thatthe Hardwar "mela, " which he was to visit, takes place every twelveyears, and is a kind of religious fair, which attracts representativesfrom all the numerous sects of India. 

Learned dissertations are read by the disputants in defence of theirpeculiar doctrines, and the debates are held in public. This yearthe Hardwar gathering was exceptionally numerous. The Sannyasis--themendicant monks of India--alone numbered 35, 000 and the cholera, foreseen by the Swami, actually broke out. 

As we were not yet to start for the appointed meeting, we had plenty ofspare time before us; so we proceeded to examine Bombay. 

The Tower of Silence, on the heights of the Malabar Hill, is the lastabode of all the sons of Zoroaster. It is, in fact, a Parsee cemetery. Here their dead, rich and poor, men, women and children, are all laid ina row, and in a few minutes nothing remains of them but bare skeletons. A dismal impression is made upon a foreigner by these towers, whereabsolute silence has reigned for centuries. This kind of building isvery common in every place were Parsees live and die. In Bombay, of sixtowers, the largest was built 250 years ago, and the least but a shorttime since. With few exceptions, they are round or square in shape, fromtwenty to forty feet high, without roof, window, or door, but with asingle iron gate opening towards the East, and so small that it isquite covered by a few bushes. The first corpse brought to a newtower--"dakhma"--must be the body of the innocent child of a mobedor priest. No one, not even the chief watcher, is allowed to approachwithin a distance of thirty paces of these towers. Of all living humanbeings "nassesalars"--corpse-carriers--alone enter and leave the "Towerof Silence. " The life these men lead is simply wretched. No Europeanexecutioner's position is worse. They live quite apart from the restof the world, in whose eyes they are the most abject of beings. Beingforbidden to enter the markets, they must get their food as they can. They are born, marry, and die, perfect strangers to all except their ownclass, passing through the streets only to fetch the dead and carry themto the tower. Even to be near one of them is a degradation. Enteringthe tower with a corpse, covered, whatever may have been its rank orposition, with old white rags, they undress it and place it, insilence, on one of the three rows presently to be described. Then, stillpreserving the same silence, they come out, shut the gate, and burn therags. 

Amongst the fire-worshippers, Death is divested of all his majesty andis a mere object of disgust. As soon as the last hour of a sick personseems to approach, everyone leaves the chamber of death, as much toavoid impeding the departure of the soul from the body, as to shun therisk of polluting the living by contact with the dead. The mobed alonestays with the dying man for a while, and having whispered into his earthe Zend-Avesta precepts, "ashem-vohu" and "Yato-Ahuvarie, " leaves theroom while the patient is still alive. Then a dog is brought and madeto look straight into his face. This ceremony is called "sas-did, "the "dog's-stare. " A dog is the only living creature that the"Drux-nassu"--the evil one--fears, and that is able to prevent him fromtaking possession of the body. It must be strictly observed that noone's shadow lies between the dying man and the dog, otherwise the wholestrength of the dog's gaze will be lost, and the demon will profit bythe occasion. The body remains on the spot where life left it, until thenassesalars appear, their arms hidden to the shoulders under old bags, to take it away. Having deposited it in an iron coffin--the same foreveryone--they carry it to the dakhma. If any one, who has once beencarried thither, should happen to regain consciousness, the nassesalarsare bound to kill him; for such a person, who has been polluted by onetouch of the dead bodies in the dakhma, has thereby lost all rightto return to the living, by doing so he would contaminate the wholecommunity. As some such cases have occurred, the Parsees are trying toget a new law passed, that would allow the miserable ex-corpses to liveagain amongst their friends, and that would compel the nassesalars toleave the only gate of the dakhma unlocked, so that they might find away of retreat open to them. It is very curious, but it is said that thevultures, which devour without hesitation the corpses, will never touchthose who are only apparently dead, but fly away uttering loud shrieks. After a last prayer at the gate of the dakhma, pronounced from afar bythe mobed, and re-peated in chorus by the nassesalars, the dog ceremonyis repeated. In Bombay there is a dog, trained for this purpose, at theentrance to the tower. Finally, the body is taken inside and placed onone or other of the rows, according to its sex and age. 

We have twice been present at the ceremonies of dying, and once ofburial, if I may be permitted to use such an incongruous term. In thisrespect the Parsees are much more tolerant than the Hindus, who areoffended by the mere presence at their religious rites of an European. N. Bayranji, a chief official of the tower, invited us to his house tobe present at the burial of some rich woman. So we witnessed all thatwas going on at a distance of about forty paces, sitting quietly onour obliging host's verandah. While the dog was staring into the deadwoman's face, we were gazing, as intently, but with much more disgust, at the huge flock of vultures above the dakhma, that kept entering thetower, and flying out again with pieces of human flesh in their beaks. These birds, that build their nests in thousands round the Tower ofSilence, have been purposely imported from Persia. Indian vulturesproved to be too weak, and not sufficiently bloodthirsty, to performthe process of stripping the bones with the despatch prescribed byZoroaster. We were told that the entire operation of denuding the bonesoccupies no more than a few minutes. As soon as the ceremony was over, we were led into another building, where a model of the dakhma was to beseen. We could now very easily imagine what was to take place presentlyinside the tower. In the centre there is a deep waterless well, coveredwith a grating like the opening into a drain. Around it are three broadcircles, gradually sloping downwards. In each of them are coffin-likereceptacles for the bodies. There are three hundred and sixty-five suchplaces. The first and smallest row is destined for children, the secondfor women, and the third for men. This threefold circle is symbolical ofthree cardinal Zoroastrian virtues--pure thoughts, kind words, and goodactions. Thanks to the vultures, the bones are laid bare in less thanan hour, and, in two or three weeks, the tropical sun scorches them intosuch a state of fragility, that the slightest breath of wind is enoughto reduce them to powder and to carry them down into the pit. No smellis left behind, no source of plagues and epidemics. I do not know thatthis way may not be preferable to cremation, which leaves in the airabout the Ghat a faint but disagreeable odour. The Ghat is a placeby the sea, or river shore, where Hindus burn their dead. Instead offeeding the old Slavonic deity "Mother Wet Earth" with carrion, Parseesgive to Armasti pure dust. Armasti means, literally, "fostering cow, "and Zoroaster teaches that the cultivation of land is the noblest of alloccupations in the eyes of God. Accordingly, the worship of Earth isso sacred among the Parsees, that they take all possible precautionsagainst polluting the "fostering cow" that gives them "a hundred goldengrains for every single grain. " In the season of the Monsoon, when, during four months, the rain pours incessantly down and washes into thewell everything that is left by the vultures, the water absorbed by theearth is filtered, for the bottom of the well, the walls of which arebuilt of granite, is, to this end, covered with sand and charcoal. 

The sight of the Pinjarapala is less lugubrious and much more amusing. The Pinjarapala is the Bombay Hospital for decrepit animals, but asimilar institution exists in every town where Jainas dwell. Being oneof the most ancient, this is also one of the most interesting, of thesects of India. It is much older than Buddhism, which took its riseabout 543 to 477 B. C. Jainas boast that Buddhism is nothing more than amere heresy of Jainism, Gautama, the founder of Buddhism, having been adisciple and follower of one of the Jaina Gurus. The customs, rites, and philosophical conceptions of Jainas place them midway between theBrahmanists and the Buddhists. In view of their social arrangements, they more closely resemble the former, but in their religion theyincline towards the latter. Their caste divisions, their totalabstinence from flesh, and their non-worship of the relics of thesaints, are as strictly observed as the similar tenets of the Brahmans, but, like Buddhists, they deny the Hindu gods and the authority ofthe Vedas, and adore their own twenty-four Tirthankaras, or Jinas, whobelong to the Host of the Blissful. Their priests, like the Buddhists', never marry, they live in isolated viharas and choose their successorsfrom amongst the members of any social class. According to them, Prakritis the only sacred language, and is used in their sacred literature, as well as in Ceylon. Jainas and Buddhists have the same traditionalchronology. They do not eat after sunset, and carefully dust any placebefore sitting down upon it, that they may not crush even the tiniest ofinsects. Both systems, or rather both schools of philosophy, teach thetheory of eternal indestructible atoms, following the ancient atomisticschool of Kanada. They assert that the universe never had a beginningand never will have an end. "The world and everything in it is but anillusion, a Maya, " say the Vedantists, the Buddhists, and the Jainas;but, whereas the followers of Sankaracharya preach Parabrahm (a deitydevoid of will, understanding, and action, because "It is absoluteunderstanding, mind and will"), and Ishwara emanating from It, theJainas and the Buddhists believe in no Creator of the Universe, but teach only the existence of Swabhawati, a plastic, infinite, self-created principle in Nature. Still they firmly believe, as doall Indian sects, in the transmigration of souls. Their fear, lest, bykilling an animal or an insect, they may, perchance, destroy the life ofan ancestor, develops their love and care for every living creature toan almost incredible extent. Not only is there a hospital for invalidanimals in every town and village, but their priests always wear amuslin muzzle, (I trust they will pardon the disrespectful expression!)in order to avoid destroying even the smallest animalcule, byinadvertence in the act of breathing. The same fear impels them to drinkonly filtered water. There are a few millions of Jainas in Gujerat, Bombay, Konkan, and some other places. 

The Bombay Pinjarapala occupies a whole quarter of the town, and isseparated into yards, meadows and gardens, with ponds, cages for beastsof prey, and enclosures for tame animals. This institution would haveserved very well for a model of Noah's Ark. In the first yard, however, we saw no animals, but, instead, a few hundred human skeletons--old men, women and children. They were the remaining natives of the, so-called, famine districts, who had crowded into Bombay to beg their bread. Thus, while, a few yards off, the official "Vets. " were busily bandaging thebroken legs of jackals, pouring ointments on the backs of mangy dogs, and fitting crutches to lame storks, human beings were dying, at theirvery elbows, of starvation. Happily for the famine-stricken, there wereat that time fewer hungry animals than usual, and so they were fed onwhat remained from the meals of the brute pensioners. No doubt many ofthese wretched sufferers would have consented to transmigrate instantlyinto the bodies of any of the animals who were ending so snugly theirearthly careers. 

But even the Pinjarajala roses are not without thorns. The graminivorous"subjects, " of course, could mot wish for anything better; but I doubtvery much whether the beasts of prey, such as tigers, hyenas, andwolves, are content with the rules and the forcibly prescribed diet. Jainas themselves turn with disgust even from eggs and fish, and, inconsequence, all the animals of which they have the care must turnvegetarians. We were present when an old tiger, wounded by an Englishbullet, was fed. Having sniffed at a kind of rice soup which was offeredto him, he lashed his tail, snarled, showing his yellow teeth, and witha weak roar turned away from the food. What a look he cast askance uponhis keeper, who was meekly trying to persuade him to taste his nicedinner! Only the strong bars of the cage saved the Jaina from a vigorousprotest on the part of this veteran of the forest. A hyena, with ableeding head and an ear half torn off, began by sitting in the troughfilled with this Spartan sauce, and then, without any further ceremony, upset it, as if to show its utter contempt for the mess. The wolvesand the dogs raised such disconsolate howls that they attracted theattention of two inseparable friends, an old elephant with a woodenleg and a sore-eyed ox, the veritable Castor and Pollux of thisinstitution. In accordance with his noble nature, the first thought ofthe elephant concerned his friend. He wound his trunk round the neckof the ox, in token of protection, and both moaned dismally. Parrots, storks, pigeons, flamingoes--the whole feathered tribe--revelledin their breakfast. Monkeys were the first to answer the keeper'sinvitation and greatly enjoyed themselves. Further on we were shown aholy man, who was feeding insects with his own blood. He lay with hiseyes shut, and the scorching rays of the sun striking full upon hisnaked body. He was literally covered with flies, mosquitoes, ants andbugs. 

"All these are our brothers, " mildly observed the keeper, pointing tothe hundreds of animals and insects. "How can you Europeans kill andeven devour them?"

"What would you do, " I asked, "if this snake were about to bite you? Isit possible you would not kill it, if you had time?"

"Not for all the world. I should cautiously catch it, and then I shouldcarry it to some deserted place outside the town, and there set itfree. "

"Nevertheless; suppose it bit you?"

"Then I should recite a mantram, and, if that produced no good result, I should be fair to consider it as the finger of Fate, and quietly leavethis body for another. "

These were the words of a man who was educated to a certain extent, andvery well read. When we pointed out that no gift of Nature is aimless, and that the human teeth are all devouring, he answered by quoting wholechapters of Darwin's Theory of Natural Selection and Origin of Species. "It is not true, " argued he, "that the first men were born withcanine teeth. It was only in course of time, with the degradation ofhumanity, --only when the appetite for flesh food began to develop--thatthe jaws changed their first shape under the influence of newnecessities. "

I could not help asking myself, "Ou la science va-t'elle se fourrer?"

The same evening, in Elphinstone's Theatre, there was given a specialperformance in honour of "the American Mission, " as we are styled here. Native actors represented in Gujerati the ancient fairy drama Sita-Rama, that has been adapted from the Ramayana, the celebrated epic by Vilmiki. This drama is composed of fourteen acts and no end of tableaux, inaddition to transformation scenes. All the female parts, as usual, wereacted by young boys, and the actors, accord-ing to the historical andnational customs, were bare-footed and half-naked. Still, the richnessof the costumes, the stage adornments and transformations, were trulywonderful. For instance, even on the stages of large metropolitantheatres, it would have been difficult to give a better representationof the army of Rama's allies, who are nothing more than troops ofmonkeys under the leadership of Hanuman--the soldier, statesman, dramatist, poet, god, who is so celebrated in history (that of Indias. V. P. ). The oldest and best of all Sanskrit dramas, Hanuman-Natak, isascribed to this talented forefather of ours. 

Alas! gone is the glorious time when, proud of our white skin (whichafter all may be nothing more than the result of a fading, under theinfluences of our northern sky), we looked down upon Hindus andother "niggers" with a feeling of contempt well suited to our ownmagnificence. No doubt Sir William Jones's soft heart ached, whentranslating from the Sanskrit such humiliating sentences as thefollowing: "Hanuman is said to be the forefather of the Europeans. "Rama, being a hero and a demi-god, was well entitled to unite allthe bachelors of his useful monkey army to the daughters of the Lanka(Ceylon) giants, the Rakshasas, and to present these Dravidian beautieswith the dowry of all Western lands. After the most pompous marriageceremonies, the monkey soldiers made a bridge, with the help of theirown tails, and safely landed with their spouses in Europe, where theylived very happily and had a numerous progeny. This progeny are we, Europeans. Dravidian words found in some European languages, in Basquefor instance, greatly rejoice the hearts of the Brahmans, who wouldgladly promote the philologists to the rank of demi-gods for thisimportant discovery, which confirms so gloriously their ancient legend. But it was Darwin who crowned the edifice of proof with the authority ofWestern education and Western scientific literature. The Indians becamestill more convinced that we are the veritable descendants of Hanuman, and that, if one only took the trouble to examine carefully, our tailsmight easily be discovered. Our narrow breeches and long skirts only addto the evidence, however uncomplimentary the idea may be to us. 

Still, if you consider seriously, what are we to say when Science, inthe person of Darwin, concedes this hypothesis to the wisdom of ancientAryas. We must perforce submit. And, really, it is better to have for aforefather Hanu-man, the poet, the hero, the god, than any other monkey, even though it be a tailless one. Sita-Rama belongs to the categoryof mythological dramas, something like the tragedies of Aeschylus. Listening to this production of the remotest antiquity, the spectatorsare carried back to the times when the gods, descending upon earth, tookan active part in the everyday life of mortals. Nothing reminds one ofa modern drama, though the exterior arrangement is the same. "From thesublime to the ridiculous there is but a step, " and vice versa. Thegoat, chosen for a sacrifice to Bacchus, presented the world tragedy(greek script here). The death bleatings and buttings of the quadrupedaloffering of antiquity have been polished by the hands of time and ofcivilization, and, as a result of this process, we get the dyingwhisper of Rachel in the part of Adrienne Lecouvreur, and the fearfullyrealistic "kicking" of the modern Croisette in the poisoning scene ofThe Sphinx. But, whereas the descendants of Themistocles gladly receive, whether captive or free, all the changes and improvements consideredas such by modern taste, thinking them to be a corrected and enlargededition of the genius of Aeschylus; Hindus, happily for archaeologistsand lovers of antiquity, have never moved a step since the times of ourmuch honoured forefather Hanuman. 

We awaited the performance of Sita-Rama with the liveliest curiosity. Except ourselves and the building of the theatre, everything wasstrictly indigenous and nothing reminded us of the West. There was notthe trace of an orchestra. Music was only to be heard from the stage, or from behind it. At last the curtain rose. The silence, which had beenvery remarkable before the performance, considering the huge crowdof spectators of both sexes, now became absolute. Rama is one of theincarnations of Vishnu and, as most of the audience were worshippers ofVishnu, for them the spectacle was not a mere theatrical performance, but a religious mystery, representing the life and achievements of theirfavourite and most venerated gods. 

The prologue was laid in the epoch before creation began (it may safelybe said that no dramatist would dare to choose an earlier one)--or, rather, before the last manifestation of the universe. All thephilosophical sects of India, except Mussulmans, agree that the universehas always existed. But the Hindus divide the periodical appearances andvanishings into days and nights of Brahma. The nights, or withdrawals ofthe objective universe, are called Pralayas, and the days, or epochsof new awakening into life and light, are called Manvantaras, Yugas, or"centuries of the gods. " These periods are also called, respectively, the inbreathings and outbreathings of Brahma. When Pralaya comes to anend Brahma awakens, and, with this awakening, the universe that restedin deity, in other words, that was reabsorbed in its subjective essence, emanates from the divine principle and becomes visible. The gods, whodied at the same time as the universe, begin slowly to return to life. The "Invisible" alone, the "Infinite, " the "Lifeless, " the One who isthe unconditioned original "Life" itself, soars, surrounded by shorelesschaos. Its holy presence is not visible. It shows itself only in theperiodical pulsation of chaos, represented by a dark mass of watersfilling the stage. These waters are not, as yet, separated from thedry land, because Brahma, the creative spirit of Narayana, has not yetseparated from the "Ever Unchanging. " Then comes a heavy shock ofthe whole mass and the waters begin to acquire transparency. Rays, proceeding from a golden egg at the bottom, spread through the chaoticwaters. Receiving life from the spirit of Narayana, the egg bursts andthe awakened Brahma rises to the surface of the water in the shape of ahuge lotus. Light clouds appear, at first transparent and web-like. Theygradually become condensed, and transform themselves into Prajapatis, the ten personified creative powers of Brahma, the god of everythingliving, and sing a hymn of praise to the creator. Something naivelypoetical, to our unaccustomed ears, breathed in this uniform melodyunaccompanied by any orchestra. 

The hour of general revival has struck. Pralaya comes to an end. Everything rejoices, returning to life. The sky is separated from thewaters and on it appear the Asuras and Gandharvas, the heavenly singersand musicians. Then Indra, Yama, Varuna, and Kuvera, the spiritspresiding over the four cardinal points, or the four elements, water, fire, earth, and air, pour forth atoms, whence springs the serpent"Ananta. " The monster swims to the surface of the waves and, bending itsswanlike neck, forms a couch on which Vishnu reclines with the Goddessof Beauty, his wife Lakshmi, at his feet. "Swatha! Swatha! Swatha!"cries the choir of heavenly musicians, hailing the deity. In the Russianchurch service this is pronounced Swiat! Swiat! Swiat! and means holy!holy! holy!

In one of his future avatars Vishnu will incarnate in Rama, the son ofa great king, and Lakshmi will become Sita. The motive of the whole poemof Ramayana is sung in a few words by the celestial musicians. Kama, theGod of Love, shelters the divine couple and, that very moment, a flameis lit in their hearts and the whole world is created. 

Later there are performed the fourteen acts of the drama, which is wellknown to everybody, and in which several hundred personages take part. At the end of the prologue the whole assembly of gods come forward, one after another, and acquaint the audience with the contents and theepilogue of their performance, asking the public not to be too exacting. It is as though all these familiar deities, made of painted granite andmarble, left the temples and came down to remind mortals of events longpast and forgotten. 

The hall was full of natives. We four alone were representatives ofEurope. Like a huge flower bed, the women displayed the bright colors oftheir garments. Here and there, among handsome, bronze-like heads, werethe pretty, dull white faces of Parsee women, whose beauty reminded meof the Georgians. The front rows were occupied by women only. In Indiait is quite easy to learn a person's religion, sect, and caste, and evenwhether a woman is married or single, from the marks painted in brightcolors on everyone's forehead. 

Since the time when Alexander the Great destroyed the sacred books ofthe Gebars, they have constantly been oppressed by the idol worshippers. King Ardeshir-Babechan restored fire worship in the years 229-243 A. C. Since then they have again been persecuted during the reign of one ofthe Shakpurs, either II. , IX. , or XI. , of the Sassanids, but which ofthem is not known. It is, however, reported that one of them was a greatprotector of the Zartushta doctrines. After the fall of Yesdejird, the fire-worshippers emigrated to the island of Ormasd, and, some timelater, having found a book of Zoroastrian prophecies, in obedience toone of them they set out for Hindustan. After many wanderings, they appeared, about 1, 000 or 1, 200 years ago, in the territory ofMaharana-Jayadeva, a vassal of the Rajput King Champanir, who allowedthem to colonize his land, but only on condition that they laid downtheir weapons, that they abandoned the Persian language for Hindi, andthat their women put off their national dress and clothed themselvesafter the manner of Hindu women. He, however, allowed them to wearshoes, since this is strictly prescribed by Zoroaster. Since then veryfew changes have been made. It follows that the Parsee women could onlybe distinguished from their Hindu sisters by very slight differences. The almost white faces of the former were separated by a strip of smoothblack hair from a sort of white cap, and the whole was covered with abright veil. The latter wore no covering on their rich, shining hair, twisted into a kind of Greek chignon. Their foreheads were brightlypainted, and their nostrils adorned with golden rings. Both are fond ofbright, but uniform, colors, both cover their arms up to the elbow withbangles, and both wear saris. 

Behind the women a whole sea of most wonderful turbans was waving in thepit. There were long-haired Rajputs with regular Grecian features andlong beards parted in the middle, their heads covered with "pagris"consisting of, at least, twenty yards of finest white muslin, andtheir persons adorned with earrings and necklaces; there were MahrataBrahmans, who shave their heads, leaving only one long central lock, andwear turbans of blinding red, decorated in front with a sort of goldenhorn of plenty; Bangas, wearing three-cornered helmets with a kind ofcockscomb on the top; Kachhis, with Roman helmets; Bhillis, from theborders of Rajastan, whose chins are wrapped three times in the endsof their pyramidal turbans, so that the innocent tourist never fails tothink that they constantly suffer from toothache; Bengalis and CalcuttaBabus, bare-headed all the year round, their hair cut after an Athenianfashion, and their bodies clothed in the proud folds of a whitetoga-virilis, in no way different from those once worn by Romansenators; Parsees, in their black, oilcloth mitres; Sikhs, the followersof Nanaka, strictly monotheist and mystic, whose turbans are very likethe Bhillis', but who wear long hair down to their waists; and hundredsof other tribes. 

Proposing to count how many different headgears are to be seen in Bombayalone, we had to abandon the task as impracticable after a fortnight. Every caste, every trade, guild, and sect, every one of the thousandsub-divisions of the social hierarchy, has its own bright turban, oftensparkling with gold lace and precious stones, which is laid aside onlyin case of mourning. But, as if to compensate for this luxury, even themem-bers of the municipality, rich merchants, and Rai-Bahadurs, who havebeen created baronets by the Government, never wear any stockings, andleave their legs bare up to the knees. As for their dress, it chieflyconsists of a kind of shapeless white shirt. 

In Baroda some Gaikwars (a title of all the Baroda princes) still keepin their stables elephants and the less common giraffes, though theformer are strictly forbidden in the streets of Bombay. We had anopportunity of seeing ministers, and even Rajas, mounted on these nobleanimals, their mouths full of pansupari (betel leaves), their headsdrooping under the weight of the precious stones on their turbans, andeach of their fingers and toes adorned with rich golden rings. Whilethe evening I am describing lasted, however, we saw no elephants, nogiraffes, though we enjoyed the company of Rajas and ministers. We hadin our box the hand-some ambassador and late tutor of the Mahararanaof Oodeypore. Our companion was a Raja and a pandit. His name was aMohunlal-Vishnulal-Pandia. He wore a small pink turban sparkling withdiamonds, a pair of pink barege trousers, and a white gauze coat. His raven black hair half covered his amber-colored neck, which wassurrounded by a necklace that might have driven any Parisian bellefrantic with envy. The poor Raiput was awfully sleepy, but he stuckheroically to his duties, and, thoughtfully pulling his beard, led usall through the endless labyrinth of metaphysical entanglements of theRamayana. During the entr'actes we were offered coffee, sherbets, andcigarettes, which we smoked even during the performance, sitting infront of the stage in the first row. We were covered, like idols, withgarlands of flowers, and the manager, a stout Hindu clad in transparentmuslins, sprinkled us several times with rose-water. 

The performance began at eight p. M. And, at half-past two, had onlyreached the ninth act. In spite of each of us having a punkah-wallahat our backs, the heat was unbearable. We had reached the limits ofour endurance, and tried to excuse ourselves. This led to generaldisturbance, on the stage as well as in the auditorium. The airychariot, on which the wicked king Ravana was carrying Sita away, pausedin the air. The king of the Nagas (serpents) ceased breathing flames, the monkey soldiers hung motionless on the trees, and Rama himself, cladin light blue and crowned with a diminutive pagoda, came to the front ofthe stage and pronounced in pure English speech, in which he thankedus for the honour of our presence. Then new bouquets, pansu-paris, androse-water, and, finally, we reached home about four a. M. Next morningwe learned that the performance had ended at half-past six. 

On The Way To Karli

It is an early morning near the end of March. A light breeze caresseswith its velvety hand the sleepy faces of the pilgrims; and theintoxicating perfume of tuberoses mingles with the pungent odors of thebazaar. Crowds of barefooted Brahman women, stately and well-formed, direct their steps, like the biblical Rachel, to the well, with brasswater pots bright as gold upon their heads. On our way lie numeroussacred tanks, filled with stagnant water, in which Hindus of both sexesperform their prescribed morning ablutions. Under the hedge of a gardensomebody's tame mongoose is devouring the head of a cobra. The headlessbody of the snake convulsively, but harmlessly, beats against the thinflanks of the little animal, which regards these vain efforts with anevident delight. Side by side with this group of animals is a humanfigure; a naked mali (gardener), offering betel and salt to a monstrousstone idol of Shiva, with the view of pacifying the wrath of the"Destroyer, " excited by the death of the cobra, which is one of hisfavourite servants. A few steps before reaching the railway station, wemeet a modest Catholic procession, consisting of a few newly convertedpariahs and some of the native Portuguese. Under a baldachin is alitter, on which swings to and fro a dusky Madonna dressed after thefashion of the native goddesses, with a ring in her nose. In her armsshe carries the holy Babe, clad in yellow pyjamas and a red Brah-manicalturban. "Hari, hari, devaki!" ("Glory to the holy Virgin!") exclaim theconverts, unconscious of any difference between the Devaki, mother ofKrishna, and the Catholic Madonna. All they know is that, excluded fromthe temples by the Brahmans on account of their not belonging to anyof the Hindu castes, they are admitted sometimes into the Christianpagodas, thanks to the "padris, " a name adopted from the Portuguesepadre, and applied indiscriminately to the missionaries of everyEuropean sect. 

At last, our gharis--native two-wheeled vehicles drawn by a pair ofstrong bullocks--arrived at the station. English employes open widetheir eyes at the sight of white-faced people travelling about the townin gilded Hindu chariots. But we are true Americans, and we have comehither to study, not Europe, but India and her products on the spot. 

If the tourist casts a glance on the shore opposite to the port ofBombay, he will see a dark blue mass rising like a wall between himselfand the horizon. This is Parbul, a flat-topped mountain 2, 250 feet high. Its right slope leans on two sharp rocks covered with woods. The highestof them, Mataran, is the object of our trip. From Bombay to Narel, astation situated at the foot of this mountain, we are to travel fourhours by railway, though, as the crow flies, the distance is not morethan twelve miles. The railroad wanders round the foot of the mostcharming little hills, skirts hundreds of pretty lakes, and pierces withmore than twenty tunnels the very heart of the rocky ghats. 

We were accompanied by three Hindu friends. Two of them once belonged toa high caste, but were excommunicated from their pagoda for associationand friendship with us, unworthy foreigners. At the station our partywas joined by two more natives, with whom we had been in correspondencefor many a year. All were members of our Society, reformers of the YoungIndia school, enemies of Brahmans, castes, aid prejudices, and were tobe our fellow-travelers and visit with us the annual fair at the templefestivities of Karli, stopping on the way at Mataran and Khanduli. One was a Brahman from Poona, the second a moodeliar (landowner)from Madras, the third a Singalese from Kegalla, the fourth a BengaliZemindar, and the fifth a gigantic Rajput, whom we had known for a longtime by the name of Gulab-Lal-Sing, and had called simply Gulab-Sing. Ishall dwell upon his personality more than on any of the others, becausethe most wonderful and diverse stories were in circulation about thisstrange man. It was asserted that he belonged to the sect of Raj-Yogis, and was an initiate of the mysteries of magic, alchemy, and variousother occult sciences of India. He was rich and independent, and rumourdid not dare to suspect him of deception, the more so because, thoughquite full of these sciences, he never uttered a word about them inpublic, and carefully concealed his knowledge from all except a fewfriends. 

He was an independent Takur from Rajistan, a province the name of whichmeans the land of kings. Takurs are, almost without exception, descendedfrom the Surya (sun), and are accordingly called Suryavansa. They areprouder than any other nation in the world. They have a proverb, "Thedirt of the earth cannot stick to the rays of the sun. " They do notdespise any sect, except the Brahmans, and honor only the bards who singtheir military achievements. Of the latter Colonel Tod writes somewhatas follows, * "The magnificence and luxury of the Rajput courts in theearly periods of history were truly wonderful, even when due allowanceis made for the poetical license of the bards. From the earliest timesNorthern India was a wealthy country, and it was precisely here thatwas situated the richest satrapy of Darius. At all events, this countryabounded in those most striking events which furnish history with herrichest materials. In Rajistan every small kingdom had its Thermopylae, and every little town has produced its Leonidas. But the veil of thecenturies hides from posterity events that the pen of the historianmight have bequeathed to the everlasting admiration of the nations. Somnath might have appeared as a rival of Delphi, the treasures of Hindmight outweigh the riches of the King of Lydia, while compared with thearmy of the brothers Pandu, that of Xerxes would seem an inconsiderablehandful of men, worthy only to rank in the second place. "

* In nearly every instance the passages quoted from various authoritieshave been retranslated from the Russian. As the time and labor needfulfor verification would he too great, the sense only of these passages isgiven here. They do not pretend to be textual. --Translator

England did not disarm the Rajputs, as she did the rest of the Indiannations, so Gulab-Sing came accompanied by vassals and shield-bearers. 

Possessing an inexhaustible knowledge of legends, and being evidentlywell acquainted with the antiquities of his country, Gulab-Sing provedto be the most interesting of our companions. 

"There, against the blue sky, " said Gulab-Lal-Sing, "you behold themajestic Bhao Mallin. That deserted spot was once the abode of a holyhermit; now it is visited yearly by crowds of pilgrims. According topopular belief the most wonderful things happen there--miracles. At thetop of the mountain, two thousand feet above the level of the sea, isthe platform of a fortress. Behind it rises another rock two hundred andseventy feet in height, and at the very summit of this peak are to befound the ruins of a still more ancient fortress, which for seventy-fiveyears served as a shelter for this hermit. Whence he obtained his foodwill for ever remain a mystery. Some think he ate the roots of wildplants, but upon this barren rock there is no vegetation. The only modeof ascent of this perpendicular mountain consists of a rope, and holes, just big enough to receive the toes of a man, cut out of the livingrock. One would think such a pathway accessible only to acrobats andmonkeys. Surely fanaticism must provide wings for the Hindus, for noaccident has ever happened to any of them. Unfortunately, about fortyyears ago, a party of Englishmen conceived the unhappy thought ofexploring the ruins, but a strong gust of wind arose and carried themover the precipice. After this, General Dickinson gave orders for thedestruction of all means of communication with the upper fortress, andthe lower one, once the cause of so many losses and so much bloodshed, is now entirely deserted, and serves only as a shelter for eagles andtigers. "

Listening to these tales of olden times, I could not help comparing thepast with the present. What a difference!

"Kali-Yug!" cry old Hindus with grim despair. "Who can strive againstthe Age of Darkness?"

This fatalism, the certainty that nothing good can be expected now, theconviction that even the powerful god Shiva himself can neither appearnor help them are all deeply rooted in the minds of the old generation. As for the younger men, they receive their education in high schools anduniversities, learn by heart Herbert Spencer, John Stuart Mill, Darwinand the German philosophers, and entirely lose all respect, not only fortheir own religion, but for every other in the world. 

The young "educated" Hindus are materialists almost without exception, and often achieve the last limits of Atheism. They seldom hope to attainto anything better than a situation as "chief mate of the junior clerk, "as we say in Russia, and either become sycophants, disgusting flatterersof their present lords, or, which is still worse, or at any ratesillier, begin to edit a newspaper full of cheap liberalism, whichgradually develops into a revolutionary organ. 

But all this is only en passant. Compared with the mysterious andgrandiose past of India, the ancient Aryavarta, her present is anatural Indian ink background, the black shadow of a bright picture, theinevitable evil in the cycle of every nation. India has become decrepitand has fallen down, like a huge memorial of antiquity, prostrate andbroken to pieces. But the most insignificant of these fragments will forever remain a treasure for the archeologist and the artist, and, inthe course of time, may even afford a clue to the philosopher and thepsychologist. "Ancient Hindus built like giants and finished their worklike goldsmiths, " says Archbishop Heber, describing his travel in India. In his description of the Taj-Mahal of Agra, that veritable eighthwonder of the world, he calls it "a poem in marble. " He might have addedthat it is difficult to find in India a ruin, in the least state ofpreservation, that cannot speak, more eloquently than whole volumes, ofthe past of India, her religious aspirations, her beliefs and hopes. 

There is not a country of antiquity, not even excluding the Egypt ofthe Pharaohs, where the development of the subjective ideal intoits demonstration by an objective symbol has been expressed moregraphically, more skillfully, and artistically, than in India. The wholepantheism of the Vedanta is contained in the symbol of the bisexualdeity Ardhanari. It is surrounded by the double triangle, known in Indiaunder the name of the sign of Vishnu. By his side lie a lion, a bull, and an eagle. In his hands there rests a full moon, which is reflectedin the waters at his feet. The Vedanta has taught for thousands of yearswhat some of the German philosophers began to preach at the end of lastcentury and the beginning of this one, namely, that everything objectivein the world, as well as the world itself, is no more than an illusion, a Maya, a phantom created by our imagination, and as unreal as thereflection of the moon upon the surface of the waters. The phenomenalworld, as well as the subjectivity of our conception concerning ourEgos, are nothing but, as it were, a mirage. The true sage will neversubmit to the temptations of illusion. He is well aware that man willattain to self-knowledge, and become a real Ego, only after the entireunion of the personal fragment with the All, thus becoming an immutable, infinite, universal Brahma. Accordingly, he considers the whole cycle ofbirth, life, old age, and death as the sole product of imagination. 

Generally speaking, Indian philosophy, split up as it is into numerousmetaphysical teachings, possesses, when united to Indian ontologicaldoctrines, such a well developed logic, such a wonderfully refinedpsychology, that it might well take the first rank when contrasted withthe schools, ancient and modern, idealist or positivist, and eclipsethem all in turn. That positivism expounded by Lewis, that makes eachparticular hair on the heads of Oxford theologians stand on end, is ridiculous child's play compared with the atomistic school ofVaisheshika, with its world divided, like a chessboard, into sixcategories of everlasting atoms, nine substances, twenty-four qualities, and five motions. And, however difficult, and even impossible mayseem the exact representation of all these abstract ideas, idealistic, pantheistic, and, sometimes, purely material, in the condensed shape ofallegorical symbols, India, nevertheless, has known how to express allthese teachings more or less successfully. She has immortalized them inher ugly, four-headed idols, in the geometrical, complicated forms ofher temples, and even in the entangled lines and spots on the foreheadsof her sectaries. 

We were discussing this and other topics with our Hindufellow-travellers when a Catholic padre, a teacher in the Jesuit Collegeof St. Xavier in Bombay, entered our carriage at one of the stations. Soon he could contain himself no longer, and joined in our conversation. Smiling and rubbing his hands, he said that he was curious to knowon the strength of what sophistry our companions could find anythingresembling a philosophical explanation "in the fundamental idea of thefour faces of this ugly Shiva, crowned with snakes, " pointing with hisfinger to the idol at the entrance to a pagoda. 

"It is very simple, " answered the Bengali Babu. "You see that its fourfaces are turned towards the four cardinal points, South, North, West, and East--but all these faces are on one body and belong to one god. "

"Would you mind explaining first the philosophical idea of the fourfaces and eight hands of your Shiva, " interrupted the padre. 

"With great pleasure. Thinking that our great Rudra (the Vedic namefor this god) is omnipresent, we represent him with his face turnedsimultaneously in all directions. Eight hands indicate his omnipotence, and his single body serves to remind us that he is One, though he iseverywhere, and nobody can avoid his all-seeing eye, or his chastisinghand. "

The padre was going to say something when the train stopped; we hadarrived at Narel. 

It is hardly twenty-five years since, for the first time, a white manascended Mataran, a huge mass of various kinds of trap rock, for themost part crystalline in form. Though quite near to Bombay, and onlya few miles from Khandala, the summer residence of the Europeans, thethreatening heights of this giant were long considered inaccessible. Onthe north, its smooth, almost vertical face rises 2, 450 feet over thevalley of the river Pen, and, further on, numberless separate rocksand hillocks, covered with thick vegetation, and divided by valleys andprecipices, rise up to the clouds. In 1854, the railway pierced one ofthe sides of Mataran, and now has reached the foot of the last mountain, stopping at Narel, where, not long ago, there was nothing but aprecipice. From Narel to the upper plateau is but eight miles, which youmay travel on a pony, or in an open or closed palanquin, as you choose. 

Considering that we arrived at Narel about six in the evening, thiscourse was not very tempting. Civilization has done much with inanimatenature, but, in spite of all its despotism, it has not yet been able toconquer tigers and snakes. Tigers, no doubt, are banished to themore remote jungles, but all hinds of snakes, especially cobras andcoralillos, which last by preference inhabit trees, still abound inthe forests of Mataran as in days of old, and wage a regular guerillawarfare against the invaders. Woe betide the belated pedestrian, or evenhorseman, if he happens to pass under a tree which forms the ambuscadeof a coralillo snake! Cobras and other reptiles seldom attack men, andwill generally try to avoid them, unless accidentally trodden upon, but these guerilleros of the forest, the tree serpents, lie in wait fortheir victims. As soon as the head of a man comes under the branch whichshelters the coralillo, this enemy of man, coiling its tail roundthe branch, dives down into space with all the length of is body, andstrikes with its fangs at the man's forehead. This curious fact was longconsidered to be a mere fable, but it has now been verified, and belongsto the natural history of India. In these cases the natives see in thesnake the envoy of Death, the fulfiller of the will of the bloodthirstyKali, the spouse of Shiva. 

But evening, after the scorchingly hot day, was so tempting, and heldout to us from the distance such promise of delicious coolness, that wedecided upon risking our fate. In the heart of this wondrous nature onelongs to shake off earthly chains, and unite oneself with the boundlesslife, so that death itself has its attractions in India. 

Besides, the full moon was about to rise at eight p. M. Three hours'ascent of the mountain, on such a moonlit, tropical night as would taxthe descriptive powers of the greatest artists, was worth any sacrifice. Apropos, among the few artists who can fix upon canvas the subtle charmof a moonlit night in India public opinion begins to name our own V. V. Vereshtchagin. 

Having dined hurriedly in the dak bungalow we asked for our sedanchairs, and, drawing our roof-like topees over our eyes, we started. Eight coolies, clad, as usual, in vine-leaves, took possession of eachchair and hurried up the mountain, uttering the shrieks and yells notrue Hindu can dispense with. Each chair was accompanied besides by arelay of eight more porters. So we were sixty-four, without countingthe Hindus and their servants--an army sufficient to frighten any strayleopard or jungle tiger, in fact any animal, except our fearless cousinson the side of our great-grandfather Hanuman. As soon as we turned intoa thicket at the foot of the Mountain, several dozens of these kinsmenjoined our procession. Thanks to the achievements of Rama's ally, monkeys are sacred in India. The Government, emulating the earlierwisdom of the East India Company, forbids everyone to molest them, notonly when met with in the forests, which in all justice belong to them, but even when they invade the city gardens. Leaping from one branchto another, chattering like magpies, and making the most formidablegrimaces, they followed us all the way, like so many midnight spooks. Sometimes they hung on the trees in full moonlight, like forest nymphsof Russian mythology; sometimes they preceded us, awaiting our arrivalat the turns of the road as if showing us the way. They never left us. One monkey babe alighted on my knees. In a moment the authoress of hisbeing, jumping without any ceremony over the coolies' shoulders, came tohis rescue, picked him up, and, after making the most ungodly grimace atme, ran away with him. 

"Bandras (monkeys) bring luck with their presence, " remarked one ofthe Hindus, as if to console me for the loss of my crumpled topee. "Besides, " he added, "seeing them here we may be sure that there is nota single tiger for ten miles round. "

Higher and higher we ascended by the steep winding path, and the forestgrew perceptibly thicker, darker, and more impenetrable. Some of thethickets were as dark as graves. Passing under hundred-year-old banyansit was impossible to distinguish one's own finger at the distance of twoinches. It seemed to me that in certain places it would not be possibleto advance without feeling our way, but our coolies never made a falsestep, but hastened onwards. Not one of us uttered a word. It was as ifwe had agreed to be silent at these moments. We felt as though wrappedin the heavy veil of dark-ness, and no sound was heard but the short, irregular breathing of the porters, and the cadence of their quick, nervous footsteps upon the stony soil of the path. One felt sick atheart and ashamed of belonging to that human race, one part of whichmakes of the other mere beasts of burden. These poor wretches are paidfor their work four annas a day all the year round. Four annas for goingeight miles upwards and eight miles downwards not less than twice aday; altogether thirty-two miles up and down a mountain 1, 500 feet high, carrying a burden of two hundredweight! However, India is a countrywhere everything is adjusted to never changing customs, and four annas aday is the pay for unskilled labor of any kind. 

Gradually open spaces and glades became more frequent and the light grewas intense as by day. Millions of grasshoppers were shrilling inthe forest, filling the air with a metallic throbbing, and flocks offrightened parrots rushed from tree to tree. Sometimes the thundering, prolonged roars of tigers rose from the bottom of the precipices thicklycovered with all kinds of vegetation. Shikaris assure us that, on aquiet night, the roaring of these beasts can be heard for many milesaround. The panorama, lit up, as if by Bengal fires, changed at everyturn. Rivers, fields, forests, and rocks, spread out at our feet overan enormous distance, moved and trembled, iridescent, in the silverymoonlight, like the tides of a mirage. The fantastic character of thepictures made us hold our breath. Our heads grew giddy if, by chance, weglanced down into the depths by the flickering moonlight. We felt thatthe precipice, 2, 000 feet deep, was fascinating us. One of our Americanfellow travelers, who had begun the voyage on horseback, had todismount, afraid of being unable to resist the temptation to dive headforemost into the abyss. 

Several times we met with lonely pedestrians, men and young women, coming down Mataran on their way home after a day's work. It oftenhappens that some of them never reach home. The police unconcernedlyreport that the missing man has been carried off by a tiger, or killedby a snake. All is said, and he is soon entirely forgotten. One person, more or less, out of the two hundred and forty millions who inhabitIndia does not matter much! But there exists a very strange superstitionin the Deccan about this mysterious, and only partially explored, mountain. The natives assert that, in spite of the considerable numberof victims, there has never been found a single skeleton. The corpse, whether intact or mangled by tigers, is immediately carried away by themonkeys, who, in the latter case, gather the scattered bones, and burythem skillfully in deep holes, that no traces ever remain. Englishmenlaugh at this superstition, but the police do not deny the fact of theentire disappearance of the bodies. When the sides of the mountain wereexcavated, in the course of the construction of the railway, separatebones, with the marks of tigers' teeth upon them, broken bracelets, andother adornments, were found at an incredible depth from the surface. The fact of these things being broken showed clearly that they were notburied by men, because, neither the religion of the Hindus, nor theirgreed, would allow them to break and bury silver and gold. Is itpossible, then, that, as amongst men one hand washes the other, so inthe animal kingdom one species conceals the crimes of another?

Having spent the night in a Portuguese inn, woven like an eagle's nestout of bamboos, and clinging to the almost vertical side of a rock, werose at daybreak, and, having visited all the points de vue famed fortheir beauty, made our preparations to return to Narel. By daylightthe panorama was still more splendid than by night; volumes would notsuffice to describe it. Had it not been that on three sides the horizonwas shut out by rugged ridges of mountain, the whole of the Deccanplateau would have appeared before our eyes. Bombay was so distinct thatit seemed quite near to us, and the channel that separates the town fromSalsetta shone like a tiny silvery streak. It winds like a snake on itsway to the port, surrounding Kanari and other islets, which look thevery image of green peas scattered on the white cloth of its brightwaters, and, finally, joins the blinding line of the Indian Ocean in theextreme distance. On the outer side is the northern Konkan, terminatedby the Tal-Ghats, the needle-like summits of the Jano-Maoli rocks, and, lastly, the battlemented ridge of Funell, whose bold silhouette standsout in strong relief against the distant blue of the dim sky, like agiant's castle in some fairy tale. Further on looms Parbul, whose flatsummit, in the days of old, was the seat of the gods, whence, accordingto the legends, Vishnu spoke to mortals. And there below, where thedefile widens into a valley, all covered with huge separate rocks, eachof which is crowded with historical and mythological legends, you mayperceive the dim blue ridge of mountains, still loftier and still morestrangely shaped. That is Khandala, which is overhung by a huge stoneblock, known by the name of the Duke's Nose. On the opposite side, underthe very summit of the mountain, is situated Karli, which, accordingto the unanimous opinion or archeologists, is the most ancient and bestpreserved of Indian cave temples. 

One who has traversed the passes of the Caucasus again and again; onewho, from the top of the Cross Mountain, has beheld beneath her feetthunderstorms and lightnings; who has visited the Alps and the Rigi;who is well acquainted with the Andes and Cordilleras, and knowsevery corner of the Catskills in America, may be allowed, I hope, theexpression of a humble opinion. The Caucasian Mountains, I do not deny, are more majestic than Ghats of India, and their splendour cannot bedimmed by comparison with these; but their beauty is of a type, if I mayuse this expression. At their sight one experiences true delight, butat the same time a sensation of awe. One feels like a pigmy beforethese Titans of nature. But in India, the Himalayas excepted, mountainsproduce quite a different impression. The highest summits of the Deccan, as well as of the triangular ridge that fringes Northern Hindostan, andof the Eastern Ghats, do not exceed 3, 000 feet. Only in the Ghats of theMalabar coast, from Cape Comorin to the river Surat, are there heightsof 7, 000 feet above the surface of the sea. So that no comparison canbe dawn between these and the hoary headed patriarch Elbruz, or Kasbek, which exceeds 18, 000 feet. The chief and original charm of Indianmountains wonderfully consists in their capricious shapes. Sometimesthese mountains, or, rather, separate volcanic peaks standing in a row, form chains; but it is more common to find them scattered, to the greatperplexity of geologists, without visible cause, in places where theformation seems quite unsuitable. Spacious valleys, surrounded by highwalls of rock, over the very ridge of which passes the railway, arecommon. Look below, and it will seem to you that you are gazing uponthe studio of some whimsical Titanic sculptor, filled with half finishedgroups, statues, and monuments. Here is a dream-land bird, seated uponthe head of a monster six hundred feet high, spreading its wingsand widely gaping its dragon's mouth; by its side the bust of a man, surmounted by a helmet, battlemented like the walls of a feudal castle;there, again, new monsters devouring each other, statues with brokenlimbs, disorderly heaps of huge balls, lonely fortresses with loopholes, ruined towers and bridges. All this scattered and intermixed withshapes changing incessantly like the dreams of delirium. And the chiefattraction is that nothing here is the result of art, everything is thepure sport of Nature, which, however, has occasionally been turned toaccount by ancient builders. The art of man in India is to be soughtin the interior of the earth, not on its surface. Ancient Hindus seldombuilt their temples otherwise than in the bosom of the earth, asthough they were ashamed of their efforts, or did not dare to rival thesculpture of nature. Having chosen, for instance, a pyramidal rock, ora cupola shaped hillock like Elephanta, Or Karli, they scraped awayinside, according to the Puranas, for centuries, planning on so grand astyle that no modern architecture has been able to conceive anythingto equal it. Fables (?) about the Cyclops seem truer in India than inEgypt. 

The marvellous railroad from Narel to Khandala reminds one of a similarline from Genoa up the Apenines. One may be said to travel in the air, not on land. The railway traverses a region 1, 400 feet above Konkan, and, in some places, while one rail is laid on the sharp edge of therock, the other is supported on vaults and arches. The Mali Khindiviaduct is 163 feet high. For two hours we hastened on between sky andearth, with abysses on both sides thickly covered with mango trees andbananas. Truly English engineers are wonderful builders. 

The pass of Bhor-Ghat is safely accomplished and we are in Khandala. Our bungalow here is built on the very edge of a ravine, which natureherself has carefully concealed under a cover of the most luxuriantvegetation. Everything is in blossom, and, in this unfathomed recess, a botanist might find sufficient material to occupy him for a lifetime. Palms have disappeared; for the most part they grow only near thesea. Here they are replaced by bananas, mango trees, pipals (ficusreligiosa), fig trees, and thousands of other trees and shrubs, unknownto such outsiders as ourselves. The Indian flora is too often slanderedand misrepresented as being full of beautiful, but scentless, flowers. At some seasons this may be true enough, but, as long as jasmines, the various balsams, white tuberoses, and golden champa (champaka orfrangipani) are in blossom, this statement is far from being true. Thearoma of champa alone is so powerful as to make one almost giddy. Forsize, it is the king of flowering trees, and hundreds of them were infull bloom, just at this time of year, on Mataran and Khandala. 

We sat on the verandah, talking and enjoying the surrounding views, until well-nigh midnight. Everything slept around us. 

Khandala is nothing but a big village, situated on the flat top of oneof the mountains of the Sahiadra range, about 2, 200 feet above the sealevel. It is surrounded by isolated peaks, as strange in shape as any wehave seen. 

One of them, straight before us, on the opposite side of the abyss, looked exactly like a long, one-storied building, with a flat roof anda battlemented parapet. The Hindus assert that, somewhere about thishillock, there exists a secret entrance, leading into vast interiorhalls, in fact to a whole subterranean palace, and that there stillexist people who possess the secret of this abode. A holy hermit, Yogi, and Magus, who had inhabited these caves for "many centuries, " impartedthis secret to Sivaji, the celebrated leader of the Mahratta armies. Like Tanhauser, in Wagner's opera, the unconquerable Sivaji spent sevenyears of his youth in this mysterious abode, and therein acquired hisextraordinary strength and valour. 

Sivaji is a kind of Indian Ilia Moorometz, though his epoch is muchnearer to our times. He was the hero and the king of the Mahrattas inthe seventeenth century, and the founder of their short-lived empire. Itis to him that India owes the weakening, if not the entire destruction, of the Mussulman yoke. No taller than an ordinary woman, and with thehand of a child, he was, nevertheless, possessed of wonderful strength, which, of course, his compatriots ascribed to sorcery. His sword isstill preserved in a museum, and one cannot help wondering at its sizeand weight, and at the hilt, through which only a ten-year-old childcould put his hand. The basis of this hero's fame is the fact thathe, the son of a poor officer in the service of a Mogul emperor, likeanother David, slew the Mussulman Goliath, the formidable Afzul Khan. It was not, however, with a sling that he killed him, he used in thiscombat the formidable Mahratti weapon, vaghnakh, consisting of five longsteel nails, as sharp as needles, and very strong. This weapon is wornon the fingers, and wrestlers use it to tear each other's flesh likewild animals. The Deccan is full of legends about Sivaji, and eventhe English historians mention him with respect. Just as in the fablerespecting Charles V, one of the local Indian traditions asserts thatSivaji is not dead, but lives secreted in one of the Sahiadra caves. When the fateful hour strikes (and according to the calculations of theastrologers the time is not far off) he will reappear, and will bringfreedom to his beloved country. 

The learned and artful Brahmans, those Jesuits of India, profit bythe profound superstition of the masses to extort wealth from them, sometimes to the last cow, the only food giver of a large family. 

In the following passage I give a curious example of this. At the endof July, 1879, this mysterious document appeared in Bombay. I translateliterally, from the Mahratti, the original having been translated intoall the dialects of India, of which there are 273. 

"Shri!" (an untranslatable greeting). "Let it be known unto every onethat this epistle, traced in the original in golden letters, came downfrom Indra-loka (the heaven of Indra), in the presence of holy Brahmans, on the altar of the Vishveshvara temple, which is in the sacred town ofBenares. 

"Listen and remember, O tribes of Hindustan, Rajis-tan, Punjab, etc. , etc. On Saturday, the second day of the first half of the month Magha, 1809, of Shalivahan's era" (1887 A. D. ), "the eleventh month of theHindus, during the Ashwini Nakshatra" (the first of the twenty-sevenconstellations on the moon's path), "when the sun enters the signCapricorn, and the time of the day will be near the constellationPisces, that is to say, exactly one hour and thirty-six minutes aftersunrise, the hour of the end of the Kali-Yug will strike, and themuch desired Satya-Yug will commence" (that is to say, the end of theMaha-Yug, the great cycle that embraces the four minor Yugas). "Thistime Satya-Yug will last 1, 100 years. During all this time a man'slifetime will be 128 years. The days will become longer and will consistof twenty hours and forty-eight minutes, and the nights of thirteenhours and twelve minutes, that is to say, instead of twenty-four hourswe shall have exactly thirty-four hours and one minute. The first dayof Satya-Yug will be very important for us, because it is then that willappear to us our new King with white face and golden hair, who will comefrom the far North. He will become the autonomous Lord of India. TheMaya of human unbelief, with all the heresies over which it presides, will be thrown down to Patala" (sig-nifying at once hell and theantipodes), "and the Maya of the righteous and pious will abide withthem, and will help them to enjoy life in Mretinloka" (our earth). 

"Let it also be known to everyone that, for the dissemination of thisdivine document, every separate copy of it will be rewarded by theforgiveness of as many sins as are generally forgiven when a pious mansacrifices to a Brahman one hundred cows. As for the disbelievers andthe indifferent, they will be sent to Naraka" (hell). "Copied out andgiven, by the slave of Vishnu, Malau Shriram, on Saturday, the 7thday of the first half of Shravan" (the fifth month of the Hindu year), "1801, of Shalivalian's era" (that is, 26th July, 1879). 

The further career of this ignorant and cunning epistle is not knownto me. Probably the police put a stop to its distribution; this onlyconcerns the wise administrators. But it splendidly illustrates, fromone side, the credulity of the populace, drowned in superstition, andfrom the other the unscrupulousness of the Brahmans. 

Concerning the word Patala, which literally means the opposite side, a recent discovery of Swami Dayanand Saraswati, whom I have alreadymentioned in the preceding letters, is interesting, especially if thisdiscovery can be accepted by philologists, as the facts seem to promise. Dayanand tries to show that the ancient Aryans knew, and even visited, America, which in ancient MSS. Is called Patala, and out of whichpopular fancy constructed, in the course of time, something like theGreek Hades. He supports his theory by many quotations from the oldestMSS. , especially from the legends about Krishna and his favouritedisciple Arjuna. In the history of the latter it is mentioned thatArjuna, one of the five Pandavas, descendants of the moon dynasty, visited Patala on his travels, and there married the widowed daughter ofKing Nagual, called Illupl. Comparing the names of father and daughterwe reach the following considerations, which speak strongly in favour ofDayanand's supposition. 

(1) Nagual is the name by which the sorcerers of Mexico, Indians andaborigines of America, are still designated. Like the Assyrian andChaldean Nargals, chiefs of the Magi, the Mexican Nagual unites in hisperson the functions of priest and of sorcerer, being served in thelatter capacity by a demon in the shape of some animal, generally asnake or a crocodile. These Naguals are thought to be the descendantsof Nagua, the king of the snakes. Abbe Brasseur de Bourbourg devotes aconsiderable amount of space to them in his book about Mexico, and saysthat the Naguals are servants of the evil one, who, in his turn, rendersthem but a temporary service. In Sanskrit, likewise, snake is Naga, and the "King of the Nagas" plays an important part in the history ofBuddha; and in the Puranas there exists a tradition that it was Arjunawho introduced snake worship into Patala. The coincidence, and theidentity of the names are so striking that our scientists really oughtto pay some attention to them. 

(2) The Name of Arjuna's wife Illupl is purely old Mexican, and if wereject the hypothesis of Swami Daya-nand it will be perfectly impossibleto explain the actual existence of this name in Sanskrit manuscriptslong before the Christian era. Of all ancient dialects and languagesit is only in those of the American aborigines that you constantly meetwith such combinations of consonants as pl, tl, etc. They are abundantespecially in the language of the Toltecs, or Nahuatl, whereas, neitherin Sanskrit nor in ancient Greek are they ever found at the end ofa word. Even the words Atlas and Atlantis seem to be foreign to theetymology of the European languages. Wherever Plato may have found them, it was not he who invented them. In the Toltec language we find theroot atl, which means water and war, and directly after America wasdiscovered Columbus found a town called Atlan, at the entrance of theBay of Uraga. It is now a poor fishing village called Aclo. Onlyin America does one find such names as Itzcoatl, Zempoaltecatl, andPopocatepetl. To attempt to explain such coincidences by the theory ofblind chance would be too much, consequently, as long as science doesnot seek to deny Dayanand's hypothesis, which, as yet, it is unable todo, we think it reasonable to adopt it, be it only in order to followout the axiom "one hypothesis is equal to another. " Amongst other thingsDayanand points out that the route that led Arjuna to America fivethousand years ago was by Siberia and Behring's Straits. 

It was long past midnight, but we still sat listening to this legend andothers of a similar kind. At length the innkeeper sent a servant towarn us of the dangers that threatened us if we lingered too long on theverandah on a moonlit night. The programme of these dangers was dividedinto three sections--snakes, beasts of prey, and dacoits. Besides thecobra and the "rock-snake, " the surrounding mountains are full of a kindof very small mountain snake, called furzen, the most dangerous ofall. Their poison kills with the swiftness of lightning. The moonlightattracts them, and whole parties of these uninvited guests crawl up tothe verandahs of houses, in order to warm themselves. Here they are moresnug than on the wet ground. The verdant and perfumed abyss belowour verandah happened, too, to be the favorite resort of tigers andleopards, who come thither to quench their thirst at the broad brookwhich runs along the bottom, and then wander until daybreak under thewindows of the bungalow. Lastly, there were the mad dacoits, whose densare scattered in mountains inaccessible to the police, who often shootEuropeans simply to afford themselves the pleasure of sending ad patresone of the hateful bellatis (foreigners). Three days before our arrivalthe wife of a Brahman disappeared, carried off by a tiger, and twofavorite dogs of the commandant were killed by snakes. We declined towait for further explanations, but hurried to our rooms. At daybreak wewere to start for Karli, six miles from this place. 

In The Karli Caves

At five o'clock in the morning we had already arrived at the limit, notonly of driveable, but, even, of rideable roads. Our bullock-cart couldgo no further. The last half mile was nothing but a rough sea of stones. We had either to give up our enterprise, or to climb on all-fours up analmost perpendicular slope two hundred feet high. We were utterly atour wits' end, and meekly gazed at the historical mass before us, notknowing what to do next. Almost at the summit of the mountain, underthe overhanging rocks, were a dozen black openings. Hundreds of pilgrimswere crawling upwards, looking, in their holiday dresses, like so manygreen, pink, and blue ants. Here, however, our faithful Hindu friendscame to our rescue. One of them, putting the palm of his hand to hismouth, produced a strident sound something between a shriek and awhistle. This signal was answered from above by an echo, and the nextmoment several half naked Brahmans, hereditary watchmen of the temple, began to descend the rocks as swiftly and skillfully as wild cats. Five minutes later they were with us, fastening round our bodies strongleathern straps, and rather dragging than leading us upwards. Half anhour later, exhausted but perfectly safe, we stood before the porchof the chief temple, which until then had been hidden from us by gianttrees and cactuses. 

This majestic entrance, resting on four massive pillars which form aquadrangle, is fifty-two feet wide and is covered with ancient moss andcarvings. Before it stands the "lion column, " so-called from the fourlions carved as large as nature, and seated back to back, at its base. Over the principal entrance, its sides covered with colossal maleand female figures, is a huge arch, in front of which three giganticelephants are sculptured in relief, with heads and trunks that projectfrom the wall. The shape of the temple is oval. It is 128 feet long andforty-six feet wide. The central space is separated on each sidefrom the aisles by forty-two pillars, which sustain the cupola-shapedceiling. Further on is an altar, which divides the first dome froma second one which rises over a small chamber, formerly used by theancient Aryan priests for an inner, secret altar. Two side passagesleading towards it come to a sudden end, which suggests that, once upona time, either doors or wall were there which exist no longer. Each ofthe forty-two pillars has a pedestal, an octagonal shaft, and acapital, described by Fergusson as "of the most exquisite workmanship, representing two kneeling elephants surmounted by a god and a goddess. "Fergusson further says that this temple, or chaitya, is older and betterpreserved than any other in India, and may be assigned to a period about200 years B. C. , because Prinsep, who has read the inscription on theSilastamba pillar, asserts that the lion pillar was the gift of AjmitraUkasa, son of Saha Ravisobhoti, and another inscription shows thatthe temple was visited by Dathama Hara, otherwise Dathahamini, King ofCeylon, in the twentieth year of his reign, that is to say, 163 yearsbefore our era. For some reason or other, Dr. Stevenson points toseventy years B. C. As the date, asserting that Karlen, or Karli, wasbuilt by the Emperor Devobhuti, under the supervision of Dhanu-Kakata. But how can this be maintained in view of the above-mentioned perfectlyauthentic inscriptions? Even Fergusson, the celebrated defender of theEgyptian antiquities and hostile critic of those of India, insists thatKarli belongs to the erections of the third century B. C. , adding that"the disposition of the various parts of its architecture is identicalwith the architecture of the choirs of the Gothic period, and thepolygonal apsides of cathedrals. "

Above the chief entrance is found a gallery, which reminds one of thechoirs, where, in Catholic churches, the organ is placed. Besides thechief entrance there are two lateral entrances, leading to the aislesof the temple, and over the gallery there is a single spacious window inthe shape of a horseshoe, so that the light falls on the daghopa (altar)entirely from above, leaving the aisles, sheltered by the pillars, in obscurity, which increases as you approach the further end of thebuilding. To the eyes of a spectator standing at the entrance, the wholedaghopa shines with light, and behind it is nothing but impenetrabledarkness, where no profane footsteps were permitted to tread. A figureon the dag-hopa, from the summit of which "Raja priests" used topronounce verdicts to the people, is called Dharma-Raja, from Dharma, the Hindu Minos. Above the temple are two stories of caves, in each ofwhich are wide open galleries formed by huge carved pillars, and fromthese galleries an opening leads to roomy cells and corridors, sometimesvery long, but quite useless, as they invariably come to an abrupttermination at solid walls, without the trace of an issue of any kind. The guardians of the temple have either lost the secret of furthercaves, or conceal them jealously from Europeans. 

Besides the Viharas already described, there are many others, scatteredover the slope of the mountain. These temple-monasteries are all smallerthan the first, but, according to the opinion of some archeologists, they are much older. To what century or epoch they belong is not knownexcept to a few Brahmans, who keep silence. Generally speaking, theposition of a European archaeologist in India is very sad. The masses, drowned in superstition, are utterly unable to be of any use to him, andthe learned Brahmans, initiated into the mysteries of secret librariesin pagodas, do all they can to prevent archeological research. However, after all that has happened, it would be unjust to blame the conduct ofthe Brahmans in these matters. The bitter experience of many centurieshas taught them that their only weapons are distrust and circumspection, without these their national history and the most sacred of theirtreasures would be irrevocably lost. Political coups d'etat which haveshaken their country to its foundation, Mussulman invasions that provedso fatal to its welfare, the all-destructive fanaticism of Mussulmanvandals and of Catholic padres, who are ready for anything in order tosecure manuscripts and destroy them--all these form a good excusefor the action of the Brahmans. However in spite of these manifolddestructive tendencies, there exist in many places in India vastlibraries capable of pouring a bright and new light, not only on thehistory of India itself, but also on the darkest problems of universalhistory. Some of these libraries, filled with the most preciousmanuscripts, are in the possession of native princes and of pagodasattached to their territories, but the greater part is in the handsof the Jainas (the oldest of Hindu sects) and of the Rajputana Takurs, whose ancient hereditary castles are scattered all over Rajistan, likeso many eagles' nests on high rocks. The existence of the celebratedcollections in Jassulmer and Patana is not unknown to the Government, but they remain wholly beyond its reach. The manuscripts are written inan ancient and now completely forgotten language, intelligible only tothe high priests and their initiated librarians. One thick folio isso sacred and inviolable that it rests on a heavy golden chain in thecentre of the temple of Chintamani in Jassulmer, and taken down onlyto be dusted and rebound at the advent of each new pontiff. This isthe work of Somaditya Suru Acharya, a great priest of the pre-Mussulmantime, well-known in history. His mantle is still preserved in thetemple, and forms the robe of initiation of every new high priest. Colonel James Tod, who spent so many years in India and gained the loveof the people as well as of the Brahmans--a most uncommon trait in thebiography of any Anglo-Indian--has written the only true history ofIndia, but even he was never allowed to touch this folio. Nativescommonly believe that he was offered initiation into the mysteriesat the price of the adoption of their religion. Being a devotedarchaeologist he almost resolved to do so, but, having to return toEngland on account of his health, he left this world before he couldreturn to his adopted country, and thus the enigma of this new book ofthe sibyl remains unsolved. 

The Takurs of Rajputana, who are said to possess some of the undergroundlibraries, occupy in India position similar to the position of Europeanfeudal barons of the Middle Ages. Nominally they are dependent on someof the native princes or on the British Government; but de facto theyare perfectly independent. Their castles are built on high rocks, andbesides the natural difficulty of entering them, their possessors aremade doubly unreachable by the fact that long secret passages exist inevery such castle, known only to the present owner and confided to hisheir only at his death. We have visited two such underground halls, oneof them big enough to contain a whole village. No torture would everinduce the owners to disclose the secret of their entrances, but theYogis and the initiated Adepts come and go freely, entirely trusted bythe Takurs. 

A similar story is told concerning the libraries and subterraneanpassages of Karli. As for the archaeologists, they are unable even todetermine whether this temple was built by Buddhists or Brahmans. The huge daghopa that hides the holy of holies from the eyes of theworshippers is sheltered by a mushroom-shaped roof, and resembles a lowminaret with a cupola. Roofs of this description are called "umbrellas, "and usually shelter the statues of Buddha and of the Chinese sages. But, on the other hand, the worshippers of Shiva, who possess the templenowadays, assert that this low building is nothing but a lingam ofShiva. Besides, the carvings of gods and goddesses cut out of the rockforbid one to think that the temple is the production of the Buddhists. Fergusson writes, "What is this monument of antiquity? Does it belongto the Hindus, or to the Buddhists? Has it been built upon plans drawnsince the death of Sakya Sing, or does it belong to a more ancientreligion?"

That is the question. If Fergusson, being bound by facts existing ininscriptions to acknowledge the antiquity of Karli, will still persistin asserting that Elephanta is of much later date, he will scarcely beable to solve this dilemma, because the two styles are exactly the same, and the carvings of the latter are still more magnificent. To ascribethe temples of Elephanta and Kanari to the Buddhists, and to say thattheir respective periods correspond to the fourth and fifth centuriesin the first case, and the tenth in the second, is to introduce intohistory a very strange and unfounded anachronism. After the firstcentury A. D. There was not left a single influential Buddhist in India. Conquered and persecuted by the Brahmans, they emigrated by thousands toCeylon and the trans-Himalayan districts. After the death of King Asoka, Buddhism speedily broke down, and in a short time was entirely displacedby the theocratic Brahmanism. 

Fergusson's hypothesis that the followers of Sakya Sing, driven out byintolerance from the continent, probably sought shelter on the islandsthat surround Bombay, would hardly sustain critical analysis. Elephantaand Salsetta are quite near to Bombay, two and five miles distantrespectively, and they are full of ancient Hindu temples. Is itcredible, then, that the Brahmans, at the culminating point of theirpower, just before the Mussulman invasions, fanatical as they were, andmortal enemies of the Buddhists, would allow these hated heretics tobuild temples within their possessions in general and on Gharipuriin particular, this latter being an island consecrated to their Hindupagodas? It is not necessary to be either a specialist, an architect, or an eminent archeologist, in order to be convinced at the first glancethat such temples as Elephanta are the work of Cyclopses, requiringcenturies and not years for their construction. Whereas in Karlieverything is built and carved after a perfect plan, in Elephanta itseems as if thousands of different hands had wrought at different times, each following its own ideas and fashioning after its own device. Allthree caves are dug out of a hard porphyry rock. The first temple ispractically a square, 130 feet 6 inches long and 130 feet wide. Itcontains twenty-six thick pillars and sixteen pilasters. 

Between some of them there is a distance of 12 or 16 feet, betweenothers 15 feet 5 inches, 13 feet 3 1/2 inches, and so on. The same lackof uniformity is found in the pedestals of the columns, the finish andstyle of which is constantly varying. 

Why, then, should we not pay some attention to the explanations of theBrahmans? They say that this temple was begun by the sons of Pandu, after "the great war, " Mahabharata, and that after their death everytrue believer was bidden to continue the work according to his ownnotions. Thus the temple was gradually built during three centuries. Every one who wished to redeem his sins would bring his chisel and setto work. Many were the members of royal families, and even kings, whopersonally took part in these labors. 

On the right hand side of the temple there is a corner stone, a lingamof Shiva in his character of Fructifying Force, which is sheltered by asmall square chapel with four doors. Round this chapel are many colossalhuman figures. According to the Brahmans, these are statues representingthe royal sculptors themselves, they being doorkeepers of the holy ofholies, Hindus of the highest caste. Each of the larger figures leansupon a dwarf representative of the lower castes, which have beenpromoted by the popular fancy to the rank of demons (Pisachas). Moreover, the temple is full of unskillful work. The Brahmans hold thatsuch a holy place could not be deserted if men of the preceding andpresent generations had not become unworthy of visiting it. As to Kanarior Kanhari, and some other cave temples, there is not the slightestdoubt that they were all erected by Buddhists. In some of them werefound inscriptions in a perfect state of preservation, and their styledoes not remind one in the least of the symbolical buildings of theBrahmans. Archbishop Heber thinks the Kanari caves were built in thefirst or second centuries B. C. But Elephanta is much older and must beclassed among prehistoric monuments, that is to say, its date mustbe assigned to the epoch that immediately followed the "greatwar, " Mahabharata. Unfortunately the date of this war is a point ofdisagreement between European scientists; the celebrated and learnedDr. Martin Haug thinks it is almost antediluvian, while the no lesscelebrated and learned Professor Max Muller places it as near the firstcentury of our era as possible. 

The fair was at its culmination when, having finished visiting thecells, climbing over all the stories, and examining the celebrated "hallof wrestlers, " we descended, not by way of the stairs, of which there isno trace to be found, but after the fashion of pails bringing water outof a deep well, that is to say, by the aid of ropes. A crowd of aboutthree thousand persons had assembled from the surrounding villages andtowns. Women were there adorned from the waist down in brilliant-huedsaris, with rings in their noses, their ears, their lips, and on allparts of their limbs that could hold a ring. Their raven-black hairwhich was smoothly combed back, shone with cocoanut oil, and was adornedwith crimson flowers, which are sacred to Shiva and to Bhavani, thefeminine aspect of this god. 

Before the temple there were rows of small shops and of tents, wherecould be bought all the requisites for the usual sacrifices--aromaticherbs, incense, sandal wood, rice, gulab, and the red powder with whichthe pilgrim sprinkles first the idol and then his own face. Fakirs, bairagis, hosseins, the whole body of the mendicant brotherhood, waspresent among the crowd. Wreathed in chaplets, with long uncombed hairtwisted at the top of the head into a regular chignon, and with beardedfaces, they presented a very funny likeness to naked apes. Some of themwere covered with wounds and bruises due to mortification of the flesh. We also saw some bunis, snake-charmers, with dozens of various snakesround their waists, necks, arms, and legs--models well worthy of thebrush of a painter who intended to depict the image of a male Fury. Onejadugar was especially remarkable. His head was crowned with a turbanof cobras. Expanding their hoods and raising their leaf-like dark greenheads, these cobras hissed furiously and so loudly that the sound wasaudible a hundred paces off. Their "stings" quivered like lightning, and their small eyes glittered with anger at the approach of everypasser-by. The expression, "the sting of a snake, " is universal, butit does not describe accurately the process of inflicting a wound. The"sting" of a snake is perfectly harmless. To introduce the poison intothe blood of a man, or of an animal, the snake must pierce the fleshwith its fangs, not prick with its sting. The needle-like eye teeth ofa cobra communicate with the poison gland, and if this gland is cut outthe cobra will not live more than two days. Accordingly, the suppositionof some sceptics, that the bunis cut out this gland, is quite unfounded. The term "hissing" is also inaccurate when applied to cobras. They donot hiss. The noise they make is exactly like the death-rattle of adying man. The whole body of a cobra is shaken by this loud and heavygrowl. 

Here we happened to be the witnesses of a fact which I relate exactlyas it occurred, without indulging in explanations or hypotheses of anykind. I leave to naturalists the solution of the enigma. 

Expecting to be well paid, the cobra-turbaned buni sent us word by amessenger boy that he would like very much to exhibit his powers ofsnake-charming. Of course we were perfectly willing, but on conditionthat between us and his pupils there should be what Mr. Disraeli wouldcall a "scientific frontier. "* We selected a spot about fifteen pacesfrom the magic circle. I will not describe minutely the tricks andwonders that we saw, but will proceed at once to the main fact. With theaid of a vaguda, a kind of musical pipe of bamboo, the buni caused allthe snakes to fall into a sort of cataleptic sleep. The melody that heplayed, monotonous, low, and original to the last degree, nearly sent usto sleep ourselves. At all events we all grew extremely sleepy withoutany apparent cause. We were aroused from this half lethargy by ourfriend Gulab-Sing, who gathered a handful of a grass, perfectly unknownto us, and advised us to rub our temples and eyelids with it. Then thebuni produced from a dirty bag a kind of round stone, something like afish's eye, or an onyx with a white spot in the centre, not bigger thana ten-kopek bit. He declared that anyone who bought that stone would beable to charm any cobra (it would produce no effect on snakes of otherkinds) paralyzing the creature and then causing it to fall asleep. Moreover, by his account, this stone is the only remedy for the biteof a cobra. You have only to place this talisman on the wound, where itwill stick so firmly that it cannot be torn off until all the poison isabsorbed into it, when it will fall off of itself, and all danger willbe past. 

* Written in 1879. 

Being aware that the Government gladly offers any premium for theinvention of a remedy for the bite of the cobra, we did not show anyunreasonable interest on the appearance of this stone. In the meanwhile, the buni began to irritate his cobras. Choosing a cobra eight feet long, he literally enraged it. Twisting its tail round a tree, the cobra aroseand hissed. The buni quietly let it bite his finger, on which we all sawdrops of blood. A unanimous cry of horror arose in the crowd. But masterbuni stuck the stone on his finger and proceeded with his performance. 

"The poison gland of the snake has been cut out, " remarked our New Yorkcolonel. "This is a mere farce. "

As if in answer to this remark, the buni seized the neck of the cobra, and, after a short struggle, fixed a match into its mouth, so that itremained open. Then he brought the snake over and showed it to each ofus separately, so that we all saw the death-giving gland in its mouth. But our colonel would not give up his first impression so easily. "Thegland is in its place right enough, " said he, "but how are we to knowthat it really does contain poison?"

Then a live hen was brought forward and, tying its legs together, thebuni placed it beside the snake. But the latter would pay no attentionat first to this new victim, but went on hissing at the buni, who teasedand irritated it until at last it actually struck at the wretched bird. The hen made a weak attempt to cackle, then shuddered once or twice andbecame still. The death was instantaneous. Facts will remain facts, themost exacting critic and disbeliever notwithstanding. This thought givesme courage to write what happened further. Little by little the cobragrew so infuriated that it became evident the jadugar himself did notdare to approach it. As if glued to the trunk of the tree by its tail, the snake never ceased diving into space with its upper part and tryingto bite everything. A few steps from us was somebody's dog. It seemed toattract the whole of the buni's attention for some time. Sitting on hishaunches, as far as possible from his raging pupil, he stared at the dogwith motionless glassy eyes, and then began a scarcely audible song. The dog grew restless. Putting his tail between his legs, he tried toescape, but remained, as if fastened to the ground. After a few secondshe crawled nearer and nearer to the buni, whining, but unable to tearhis gaze from the charmer. I understood his object, and felt awfullysorry for the dog. But, to my horror, I suddenly felt that my tonguewould not move, I was perfectly unable either to get up or even to raisemy finger. Happily this fiendish scene was not prolonged. As soon asthe dog was near enough, the cobra bit him. The poor animal fell on hisback, made a few convulsive movements with his legs, and shortly died. We could no longer doubt that there was poison in the gland. In themeanwhile the stone had dropped from the buni's finger and he approachedto show us the healed member. We all saw the trace of the prick, a redspot not bigger than the head of an ordinary pin. 

Next he made his snakes rise on their tails, and, holding the stonebetween his first finger and thumb, he proceeded to demonstrate itsinfluence on the cobras. The nearer his hand approached to the head ofthe snake, the more the reptile's body recoiled. Looking steadfastly atthe stone they shivered, and, one by one, dropped as if paralyzed. Thebuni then made straight for our sceptical colonel, and made him an offerto try the experiment himself. We all protested vigorously, but he wouldnot listen to us, and chose a cobra of a very considerable size. Armedwith the stone, the colonel bravely approached the snake. For a momentI positively felt petrified with fright. Inflating its hood, the cobramade an attempt to fly at him, then suddenly stopped short, and, aftera pause, began following with all its body the circular movements of thecolonel's hand. When he put the stone quite close to the reptile's head, the snake staggered as if intoxicated, its hissing grew weak, its hooddropped helplessly on both sides of its neck, and its eyes closed. Drooping lower and lower, the snake fell at last on the ground like astick, and slept. 

Only then did we breathe freely. Taking the sorcerer aside we expressedour desire to buy the stone, to which he easily assented, and, to ourgreat astonishment, asked for it only two rupees. This talisman becamemy own property and I still keep it. The buni asserts, and our Hindufriends confirm the story, that it is not a stone but an excrescence. Itis found in the mouth of one cobra in a hundred, between the bone of theupper jaw and the skin of the palate. This "stone" is not fastened tothe skull, but hangs, wrapped in skin, from the palate, and so is veryeasily cut off; but after this operation the cobra is said to die. Ifwe are to believe Bishu Nath, for that was our sorcerer's name, thisexcrescence confers upon the cobra who possesses it the rank of kingover the rest of his kind. 

"Such a cobra, " said the buni, "is like a Brahman, a Dwija Brahmanamongst Shudras, they all obey him. There exists, moreover, a poisonoustoad that also, sometimes, possesses this stone, but its effect is muchweaker. To destroy the effect of a cobra's poison you must apply thetoad's stone not later than two minutes after the infliction of thewound; but the stone of a cobra is effectual to the last. Its healingpower is certain as long as the heart of the wounded man has not ceasedto beat. "

Bidding us good-bye, the buni advised us to keep the stone in a dryplace and never to leave it near a dead body, also, to hide it duringthe sun and moon eclipses, "otherwise, " said he, "it will lose all itspower. " In case we were bitten by a mad dog, he said, we were to put thestone into a glass of water and leave it there during the night, nextmorning the sufferer was to drink the water and then forget all danger. 

"He is a regular devil and not a man!" exclaimed our colonel, as soonas the buni had disappeared on his way to a Shiva temple, where, by theway, we were not admitted. 

"As simple a mortal as you or I, " remarked the Rajput with a smile, "and, what is more, he is very ignorant. The truth is, he has beenbrought up in a Shivaite pagoda, like all the real snake-charmers. Shivais the patron god of snakes, and the Brahmans teach the bunis to produceall kinds of mesmeric tricks by empirical methods, never explaining tothem the theoretical principles, but assuring them that Shiva is behindevery phenomenon. So that the bunis sincerely ascribe to their god thehonor of their 'miracles. "'

"The Government of India offers a reward for an antidote to the poisonof the cobra. Why then do the bunis not claim it, rather than letthousands of people die helpless?"

"The Brahmans would never suffer that. If the Government took thetrouble to examine carefully the statistics of deaths caused by snakes, it would be found that no Hindu of the Shivaite sect has ever died fromthe bite of a cobra. They let people of other sects die, but save themembers of their own flock. "

"But did we not see how easily he parted with his secret, notwithstanding we were foreigners. Why should not the English buy it asreadily?"

"Because this secret is quite useless in the hands of Europeans. TheHindus do not try to conceal it, because they are perfectly certain thatwithout their aid nobody can make any use of it. The stone will retainits wonderful power only when it is taken from a live cobra. In order tocatch the snake without killing it, it must be cast into a lethargy, or, if you prefer the term, charmed. Who is there among the foreigners whois able to do this? Even amongst the Hindus, you will not find a singleindividual in all India who possesses this ancient secret, unless he bea disciple of the Shivaite Brahmans. Only Brahmans of this sect possessa monopoly of the secret, and not all even of them, only those, inshort, who belong to the pseudo-Patanjali school, who are usually calledBhuta ascetics. Now there exist, scattered over the whole of India, onlyabout half-a-dozen of their pagoda schools, and the inmates would ratherpart with their very lives than with their secret. "

"We have paid only two rupees for a secret which proved as strong in thecolonel's hands as in the hands of the buni. Is it then so difficult toprocure a store of these stones?" Our friend laughed. 

"In a few days, " said he, "the talisman will lose all its healing powersin your inexperienced hands. This is the reason why he let it go at sucha low price, which he is, probably, at this moment sacrificing beforethe altar of his deity. I guarantee you a week's activity for yourpurchase, but after that time it will only be fit to be thrown out ofthe window. "

We soon learned how true were these words. On the following day we cameacross a little girl, bitten by a green scorpion. She seemed to be inthe last convulsions. No sooner had we applied the stone than the childseemed relieved, and, in an hour, she was gaily playing about, whereas, even in the case of the sting of a common black scorpion, the patientsuffers for two weeks. But when, about ten days later, we tried theexperiment of the stone upon a poor coolie, just bitten by a cobra, itwould not even stick to the wound, and the poor wretch shortly expired. I do not take upon myself to offer, either a defence, or an explanationof the virtues of the "stone. " I simply state the facts and leave thefuture career of the story to its own fate. The sceptics may deal withit as they will. Yet I can easily find people in India who will bearwitness to my accuracy. 

In this connection I was told a funny story. When Dr. (now Sir J. )Fayrer, who lately published his Thanatophidia, a book on the venomoussnakes of India, a work well known throughout Europe, he categoricallystated in it his disbelief in the wondrous snake-charmers of India. However, about a fortnight or so after the book appeared amongst theAnglo-Indians, a cobra bit his own cook. A buni, who happened to passby, readily offered to save the man's life. It stands to reason thatthe celebrated naturalist could not accept such an offer. Nevertheless, Major Kelly and other officers urged him to permit the experiment. Declaring that in spite of all, in less than an hour his cook would beno more, he gave his consent. But it happened that in less than an hourthe cook was quietly preparing dinner in the kitchen, and, it is added, Dr. Fayrer seriously thought of throwing his book into the fire. 

The day grew dreadfully hot. We felt the heat of the rocks in spite ofour thick-soled shoes. Besides, the general curiosity aroused by ourpresence, and the unceremonious persecutions of the crowd, were becomingtiring. We resolved to "go home, " that is to say, to return to the coolcave, six hundred paces from the temple, where we were to spend theevening and to sleep. We would wait no longer for our Hindu companions, who had gone to see the fair, and so we started by ourselves. ----

On approaching the entrance of the temple we were struck by theappearance of a young man, who stood apart from the crowd and was ofan ideal beauty. He was a member of the Sadhu sect, a "candidate forSaintship, " to use the expression of one of our party. 

The Sadhus differ greatly from every other sect. They never appearunclothed, do not cover themselves with damp ashes, wear no paintedsigns on their faces, or foreheads, and do not worship idols. Belongingto the Adwaiti section of the Vedantic school, they believe only inParabrahm (the great spirit). The young man looked quite decent in hislight yellow costume, a kind of nightgown without sleeves. He had longhair, and his head was uncovered. His elbow rested on the back of a cow, which was itself well calculated to attract attention, for, in additionto her four perfectly shaped legs, she had a fifth growing out of herhump. This wonderful freak of nature used its fifth leg as if it werea hand and arm, hunting and killing tiresome flies, and scratchingits head with the hoof. At first we thought it was a trick to attractattention, and even felt offended with the animal, as well as with itshandsome owner, but, coming nearer, we saw that it was no trick, but anactual sport of mischievous Nature. From the young man we learned thatthe cow had been presented to him by the Maharaja Holkar, and that hermilk had been his only food during the last two years. 

Sadhus are aspirants to the Raj Yoga, and, as I have said above, usuallybelong to the school of the Vedanta. That is to say, they are disciplesof initiates who have entirely resigned the life of the world, and leada life of monastic chastity. Between the Sadhus and the Shivaitebunis there exists a mortal enmity, which manifests itself by a silentcontempt on the side of the Sadhus, and on that of the bunis by constantattempts to sweep their rivals off the face of the earth. This antipathyis as marked as that between light and darkness, and reminds one of thedualism of the Ahura-Mazda and Ahriman of the Zoroastrians. Massesof people look up to the first as to Magi, sons of the sun and of theDivine Principle, while the latter are dreaded as dangerous sorcerers. Having heard most wonderful accounts of the former, we were burningwith anxiety to see some of the "miracles" ascribed to them by some evenamong the Englishmen. We eagerly invited the Sadhu to visit our viharaduring the evening. But the handsome ascetic sternly refused, for thereason that we were staying within the temple of the idol-worshippers, the very air of which would prove antagonistic to him. We offered himmoney, but he would not touch it, and so we parted. 

A path, or rather a ledge cut along the perpendicular face of a rockymass 200 feet high, led from the chief temple to our vihara. A man needsgood eyes, sure feet, and a very strong head to avoid sliding down theprecipice at the first false step. Any help would be quite out of thequestion, for, the ledge being only two feet wide, no one could walkside by side with another. We had to walk one by one, appealing for aidonly to the whole of our personal courage. But the courage of many of uswas gone on an unlimited furlough. The position of our American colonelwas the worst, for he was very stout and short-sighted, which defects, taken together, caused him frequent vertigos. To keep up our spiritswe indulged in a choral performance of the duet from Norma, "Moriam'insieme, " holding each other's hands the while, to ensure our beingspared by death or dying all four in company. But the colonel did notfail to frighten us nearly out of our lives. We were already half way upto the cave when he made a false step, staggered, lost hold of my hand, and rolled over the edge. We three, having to clutch the bushes andstones, were quite unable to help him. A unanimous cry of horror escapedus, but died away as we perceived that he had succeeded in clinging tothe trunk of a small tree, which grew on the slope a few steps belowus. Fortunately, we knew that the colonel was good at athletics, andremarkably cool in danger. Still the moment was a critical one. Theslender stem of the tree might give way at any moment. Our cries ofdistress were answered by the sudden appearance of the mysterious Sadhuwith his cow. 

They were quietly walking along about twenty feet below us, on suchinvisible projections of the rock that a child's foot could barely havefound room to rest there, and they both traveled as calmly, and evencarelessly, as if a comfortable causeway were beneath their feet, instead of a vertical rock. The Sadhu called out to the colonel to holdon, and to us to keep quiet. He patted the neck of his monstrous cow, and untied the rope by which he was leading her. Then, with both handshe turned her head in our direction, and clucking with his tongue, hecried "Chal!" (go). With a few wild goat-like bounds the animal reachedour path, and stood before us motion-less. A for the Sadhu himself, hismovements were as swift and as goat-like. In a moment he had reached thetree, tied the rope round the colonel's body, and put him on his legsagain; then, rising higher, with one effort of his strong hand hehoisted him up to the path. Our colonel was with us once more, ratherpale, and with the loss of his pince-nez, but not of his presence ofmind. 

An adventure that had threatened to become a tragedy ended in a farce. 

"What is to be done now?" was our unanimous inquiry. "We cannot let yougo alone any further. "

"In a few moments it will be dark and we shall be lost, " said Mr. Y----, the colonel's secretary. 

And, indeed, the sun was dipping below the horizon, and every moment wasprecious. In the meanwhile, the Sadhu had fastened the rope round thecow's neck again and stood before us on the pathway, evidently notunderstanding a word of our conversation. His tall, slim figure seemedas if suspended in the air above the precipice. His long, black hair, floating in the breeze, alone showed that in him we beheld a livingbeing and not a magnificent statue of bronze. Forgetting our recentdanger and our present awkward situation, Miss X----, who was a bornartist, exclaimed: "Look at the majesty of that pure profile; observethe pose of that man. How beautiful are his outlines seen against thegolden and blue sky. One would say, a Greek Adonis, not a Hindu!" Butthe "Adonis" in question put a sudden stop to her ecstasy. He glanced atMiss X---- with half-pitying, half-kindly, laughing eyes, and said withhis ringing voice in Hindi--

"Bara-Sahib cannot go any further without the help of someone else'seyes. Sahib's eyes are his enemies. Let the Sahib ride on my cow. Shecannot stumble. "

"I! Ride on a cow, and a five-legged one at that? Never!" exclaimed thepoor colonel, with such a helpless air, nevertheless, that we burst outlaughing. 

"It will be better for Sahib to sit on a cow than to lie on a chitta"(the pyre on which dead bodies are burned), remarked the Sadhu withmodest seriousness. "Why call forth the hour which has not yet struck?"

The colonel saw that argument was perfectly useless, and we succeeded inpersuading him to follow the Sadhu's advice, who carefully hoisted himon the cow's back, then, recommending him to hold on by the fifth leg, he led the way. We all followed to the best of our ability. 

In a few minutes more we were on the verandah of our vihara, where wefound our Hindu friends, who had arrived by another path. We eagerlyrelated all our adventures, and then looked for the Sadhu, but, in themeanwhile, he had disappeared together with his cow. 

"Do not look for him, he is gone by a road known only to himself, "remarked Gulab-Sing carelessly. "He knows you are sincere in yourgratitude, but he would not take your money. He is a Sadhu, not a buni, "added he proudly. 

We remembered that it was reported this proud friend of ours alsobelonged to the Sadhu sect. "Who can tell, " whispered the colonel in myear, "whether these reports are mere gossip, or the truth?"

Sadhu-Nanaka must not be confounded with Guru-Nanaka, a leader of theSikhs. The former are Adwaitas, the latter monotheists. The Adwaitasbelieve only in an impersonal deity named Parabrahm. 

In the chief hall of the vihara was a life-sized statue of Bhavani, thefeminine aspect of Shiva. From the bosom of this devaki streams forththe pure cold water of a mountain spring, which falls into a reservoirat her feet. Around it lay heaps of sacrificial flowers, rice, betelleaves and incense. This hall was, in consequence, so damp that wepreferred to spend the night on the verandah in the open air, hanging, as it were, between sky and earth, and lit from below by numerous fireskept burning all the night by Gulab-Sing's servants, to scare away wildbeasts, and, from above, by the light of the full moon. A supper wasarranged after the Eastern fashion, on carpets spread upon the floor, and with thick banana leaves for plates and dishes. The noiselesslygliding steps of the servants, more silent than ghosts, their whitemuslins and red turbans, the limitless depths of space, lost in waves ofmoonlight, before us, and behind, the dark vaults of ancient caves, dug out by unknown races, in unknown times, in honor of an unknown, prehistoric religion--all these, our surroundings, transported us into astrange world, and into distant epochs far different from our own. 

We had before us representatives of five different peoples, fivedifferent types of costume, each quite unlike the others. All five areknown to us in ethnography under the generic name of Hindus. Similarlyeagles, condors, hawks, vultures, and owls are known to ornithology as"birds of prey, " but the analogous differences are as great. Each ofthese five companions, a Rajput, a Bengali, a Madrasi, a Sinhalese anda Mahratti, is a descendant of a race, the origin of which Europeanscientists have discussed for over half a century without coming to anyagreement. 

Rajputs are called Hindus and are said to belong to the Aryan race; butthey call themselves Suryavansa, that is to say, descendants of Surya orthe sun. 

The Brahmans derive their origin from Indu, the moon, and are calledInduvansa; Indu, Soma, or Chandra, meaning moon in Sanskrit. If thefirst Aryans, appearing in the prologue of universal history, areBrahmans, that is to say, the people who, according to Max Muller, having crossed the Himalayas conquered the country of the five rivers, then the Rajputs are no Aryans; and if they are Aryans they are notBrahmans, as all their genealogies and sacred books (Puranas) show thatthey are much older than the Brahmans; and, in this case, moreover, theAryan tribes had an actual existence in other countries of our globethan the much renowned district of the Oxus, the cradle of the Germanicrace, the ancestors of Aryans and Hindus, in the fancy of the scientistwe have named and his German school. 

The "moon" line begins with Pururavas (see the genealogical treeprepared by Colonel Tod from the MS. Puranas in the Oodeypore archives), that is to say, two thousand two hundred years before Christ, and muchlater than Ikshvaku, the patriarch of the Suryavansa. The fourth son ofPururavas, Rech, stands at the head of the line of the moon-race, andonly in the fifteenth generation after him appears Harita, who foundedthe Kanshikagotra, the Brahman tribe. 

The Rajputs hate the latter. They say the children of the sun and Ramahave nothing in common with the children of the moon and Krishna. Asfor the Bengalis, according to their traditions and history, they areaborigines. The Madrasis and the Sinhalese are Dravidians. They have, inturn, been said to belong to the Semites, the Hamites, the Aryans, and, lastly, they have been given up to the will of God, with the conclusiondrawn that the Sinhalese, at all events, must be Mongolians of Turanianorigin. The Mahrattis are aborigines of the West of India, as theBengalis are of, the East; but to what group of tribes belong these twonationalities no ethnographer can define, save perhaps a German. Thetraditions of the people themselves are generally denied, because theyare not in harmony with foregone conclusions. The meaning of ancientmanuscripts is disfigured, and, in fact, sacrificed to fiction, if onlythe latter proceeds from the mouth of some favorite oracle. 

The ignorant masses are often blamed and found to be guilty ofsuperstition for creating idols in the spiritual world. Is not, then, the educated man, the man who craves after knowledge, who isenlightened, still more inconsistent than these masses, when he dealswith his favorite authorities? Are not half a dozen laurel-crowned headsallowed by him to do whatever they like with facts, to draw their ownconclusions, according to their own liking, and does he not stoneevery one who would dare to rise against the decisions of thesequasi-infallible specialists, and brand him as an ignorant fool?

Let us remember the case in point of Louis Jacolliot, who spent twentyyears in India, who actually knew the language and the country toperfection, and who, nevertheless, was rolled in the mud by Max Muller, whose foot never touched Indian soil. 

The oldest peoples of Europe are mere babes com-pared with the tribesof Asia, and especially of India. And oh! how poor and insignificant arethe genealogies of the oldest European families compared with those ofsome Rajputs. In the opinion of Colonel Tod, who for over twenty yearsstudied these genealogies on the spot, they are the completest and mosttrustworthy of the records of the peoples of antiquity. They date from1, 000 to 2, 200 years B. C. , and their authenticity may often be provedby reference to Greek authors. After long and careful research andcomparison with the text of the Puranas, and various monumentalinscriptions, Colonel Tod came to the conclusion that in the Oodeyporearchives (now hidden from public inspection), not to mention othersources, may be found a clue to the history of India in particular, andto universal ancient history in general. Colonel Tod advises the earnestseeker after this clue not to think, with some flippant archaeologistswho are insufficiently acquainted with India, that the stories ofRama, the Mahabharata, Krishna, and the five brothers Pandu, are mereallegories. He affirms that he who seriously considers these legendswill very soon become thoroughly convinced that all these so-called"fables" are founded on historical facts, by the actual existence ofthe descendants of the heroes, by tribes, ancient towns, and coins stillextant; that to acquire the right to pronounce a final opinion one mustread first the inscriptions on the Inda-Prestha pillars of Purag andMevar, on the rocks of Junagur, in Bijoli, on Aravuli and on all theancient Jaina temples scattered throughout India, where are to be foundnumerous inscriptions in a language utterly unknown, in comparison withwhich the hieroglyphs will seem a mere toy. 

Yet, nevertheless, Professor Max Muller, who, as already mentioned, wasnever in India, sits as a judge and corrects chronological tables as ishis wont, and Europe, taking his words for those of an oracle, endorseshis decisions. Et c'est ainsi que s'ecrit l'histoire. 

Talking of the venerable German Sanskritist's chronology, I cannotresist the desire to show, be it only to Russia, on what a fragilebasis are founded his scientific discussions, and how little he is tobe trusted when he pronounces upon the antiquity of this or thatmanuscript. These pages are of a superficial and descriptive nature, and, as such, make no pretense to profound learning, so that whatfollows may seem incongruous. But it must be remembered that in Russia, as elsewhere in Europe, people estimate the value of this philologicallight by the points of exclamation lavished upon him by his admiringfollowers, and that no one reads the Veda Bhashaya of Swami Dayanand. It may even be that I shall not be far from the truth in saying that thevery existence of this work is ignored, which may perhaps be a fortunatefact for the reputation of Professor Max Muller. I shall be as brief aspossible. When Professor Max Muller states, in his Sahitya-Grantha, thatthe Aryan tribe in India acquired the notion of God step by step andvery slowly, he evidently wishes to prove that the Vedas are far frombeing as old as is supposed by some of his colleagues. Having presented, in due course, some more or less valuable evidence to prove the truthof this new theory, he ends with a fact which, in his opinion, isindisputable. He points to the word hiranya-garbha in the mantrams, which he translates by the word "gold, " and adds that, as the partof the Vedas called chanda appeared 3, 100 years ago, the part calledmantrams could not have been written earlier than 2, 900 years ago. Let me remind the reader that the Vedas are divided into two parts:chandas--slokas, verses, etc. ; and mantrams--prayers and rhythmicalhymns, which are, at the same time, incantations used in white magic. Professor Max Muller divides the mantram ("Agnihi Poorwebhihi, "etc. ) philologically and chronologically, and, finding in it the wordhiranya-garbha, he denounces it as an anachronism. The ancients, hesays, had no knowledge of gold, and, therefore, if gold is mentioned inthis mantram it means that the mantram was composed at a comparativelymodern epoch, and so on. 

But here the illustrious Sanskritist is very much mistaken. SwamiDayanand and other pandits, who sometimes are far from being Dayanand'sallies, maintain that Professor Max Muller has completely misunderstoodthe meaning of the term hiranya. Originally it did not mean, and, whenunited to the word garbha, even now does not mean, gold. So all theProfessor's brilliant demonstrations are labor in vain. The word hiranyain this mantram must be translated "divine light"--mystically a symbolof knowledge; analogically the alchemists used the term "sublimatedgold" for "light, " and hoped to compose the objective metal out of itsrays. The two words, hiranya-garbha, taken together, mean, literally, the "radiant bosom, " and, when used in the Vedas, designate the firstprinciple, in whose bosom, like gold in the bosom of the earth, reststhe light of divine knowledge and truth, the essence of the soulliberated from the sins of the world. In the mantrams, as in thechandas, one must always look for a double meaning: (1) a metaphysicalone, purely abstract, and (2) one as purely physical; for everythingexisting upon the earth is closely bound to the spiritual world, fromwhich it proceeds and by which it is reabsorbed. For instance Indra, thegod of thunder, Surya, the sun-god, Vayu, god of the wind, and Agni, god of fire, all four depending on this first divine principle, expand, according to the mantram from hiranya-garbha, the radiant bosom. In thiscase the gods are the personifications of the forces of Nature. But theinitiated Adepts of India understand very clearly that the god Indra, for instance, is nothing more than a mere sound, born of the shock ofelectrical forces, or simply electricity itself. Surya is not the god ofthe sun, but simply the centre of fire in our system, the essence whencecome fire, warmth, light, and so on; the very thing, namely, whichno European scientist, steering an even course between Tyndall andSchropfer, has, as yet, defined. This concealed meaning has totallyescaped Professor Max Muller's attention, and this is why, clinging tothe dead letter, he never hesitates before cutting a Gordian knot. Howthen can he be permitted to pronounce upon the antiquity of the Vedas, when he is so far from the right understanding of the language of theseancient writings. 

The above is a resume of Dayanand's argument, and to him theSanskritists must apply for further particulars, which they willcertainly find in his Rigvedadi Bhashya Bhoomika. 

In the cave, every one slept soundly round the fire except myself. None of my companions seemed to mind in the least either the hum ofthe thousand voices of the fair, or the prolonged, far-away roar of thetigers rising from the valley, or even the loud prayers of the pilgrimswho passed to and fro all night long, never fearing to cross the steeppassage which, even by daylight, caused us such perplexity. They camein parties of twos and threes, and sometimes there appeared a lonelyunescorted woman. They could not reach the large vihara, because weoccupied the verandah at its entrance, and so, after grumbling a little, they entered a small lateral cave something like a chapel, containinga statue of Devaki-Mata, above a tank full of water. Each pilgrimprostrated himself for a time, then placed his offering at the feet ofthe goddess and bathed in the "holy waters of purification, " or, atthe least, sprinkled some water over his forehead, cheeks, and breast. Lastly, retreating backwards, he knelt again at the door and disappearedin the darkness with a final invocation: "Mata, maha mata!"--Mother, Ogreat mother!

Two of Gulab-Sing's servants, with traditional spears and shields ofrhinoceros skin, who had been ordered to protect us from wild beasts, sat on the steps of the verandah. I was unable to sleep, and so watchedwith increasing curiosity everything that was going on. The Takur, too, was sleepless. Every time I raised my eyes, heavy with fatigue, thefirst object upon which they fell was the gigantic figure of ourmysterious friend. 

Having seated himself after the Eastern fashion, with his feet drawn upand his arms round his knees, the Rajput sat on a bench cut in the rockat one end of the verandah, gazing out into the silvery atmosphere. Hewas so near the abyss that the least incautious movement would exposehim to great danger. But the granite goddess, Bhavani herself, could notbe more immovable. The light of the moon before him was so strongthat the black shadow under the rock which sheltered him was doublyimpenetrable, shrouding his face in absolute darkness. From time to timethe flame of the sinking fires leaping up shed its hot reflection on thedark bronze face, enabling me to distinguish its sphinx-like lineamentsand its shining eyes, as unmoving as the rest of the features. 

"What am I to think? Is he simply sleeping, or is he in that strangestate, that temporary annihilation of bodily life?. .. Only thismorning he was telling us how the initiate Raj-yogis were able to plungeinto this state at will. .. Oh, if I could only go to sleep. .. .. "

Suddenly a loud prolonged hissing, quite close to my ear, made mestart, trembling with indistinct reminiscences of cobras. The sound wasstrident and evidently came from under the hay upon which I rested. Then it struck one! two! It was our American alarum-clock, which alwaystraveled with me. I could not help laughing at myself, and, at the sametime, feeling a little ashamed of my involuntary fright. 

But neither the hissing, nor the loud striking of the clock, nor mysudden movement, that made Miss X---- raise her sleepy head, awakenedGulab-Sing, who still hung over the precipice. Another half hour passed. The far-away roar of the festivity was still heard, but everything roundme was calm and still. Sleep fled further and further from my eyes. Afresh, strong wind arose, before the dawn, rustling the leaves and thenshaking the tops of the trees that rose above the abyss. My attentionbecame absorbed by the group of three Rajputs before me--by the twoshield bearers and their master. I cannot tell why I was speciallyattracted at this moment by the sight of the long hair of the servants, which was waving in the wind, though the place they occupied wascomparatively sheltered. I turned my eyes upon their Sahib, and theblood in my veins stood still. The veil of somebody's topi, which hungbeside him, tied to a pillar, was simply whirling in the wind, while thehair of the Sahib himself lay as still as if it had been glued to hisshoulders, not a hair moved, nor a single fold of his light muslingarment. No statue could be more motionless. What is this then? I saidto myself. Is it delirium? Is this a hallucination, or a wonderfulinexplicable reality? I shut my eyes, telling myself I must look nolonger. But a moment later I again looked up, startled by a cracklingsound from above the steps. The long, dark silhouette of some animalappeared at the entrance, clearly outlined against the pale sky. I sawit in profile. Its long tail was lashing to and fro. Both the servantsrose swiftly and noiselessly and turned their heads towards Gulab-Sing, as if asking for orders. But where was Gulab-Sing? In the place which, but a moment ago, he occupied, there was no one. There lay only thetopi, torn from the pillar by the wind. I sprang up: a tremendous roardeafened me, filling the vihara, wakening the slumbering echoes, andresounding, like the softened rumbling of thunder, over all the bordersof the precipice. Good heavens! A tiger!

Before this thought had time to shape itself clearly in my mind, thesleepers sprang up and the men all seized their guns and revolvers, andthen we heard the sound of crashing branches, and of something heavysliding down into the precipice. The alarm was general. 

"What is the matter now?" said the calm voice of Gulab-Sing, and I againsaw him on the stone bench. "Why should you be so frightened?"

"A tiger! Was it not a tiger?" came in hasty, questioning tones fromEuropeans and Hindus. 

Miss X---- trembled like one stricken with fever. "Whether it was atiger, or something else, matters very little to us now. Whatever itwas, it is, by this time, at the bottom of the abyss, " answered theRajput yawning. 

"I wonder the Government does not destroy all these horrid animals, "sobbed poor Miss X----, who evidently believed firmly in the omnipotenceof her Executive. 

"But how did you get rid of the 'striped one'?" insisted the colonel. "Has anyone fired a shot?"

"You Europeans think that shooting is, if not the only, at least thebest way to get rid of wild animals. We possess other means, which aresometimes more efficacious than guns, " explained Babu Narendro-Das Sen. "Wait until you come to Bengal, there you will have many opportunitiesto make acquaintance with the tigers. "

It was now getting light, and Gulab-Sing proposed to us to descend andexamine the rest of the caves and the ruins of a fortress before the daybecame too hot, so, at half-past three, we went by another and easierway to the valley, and, happily, this time we had no adventures. TheMahratti did not accompany us. He disappeared without informing uswhither he was going. 

We saw Logarh, a fortress which was captured by Sivaji from the Mogulsin 1670, and the ruins of the hall, where the widow of Nana Farnavese, under the pretext of an English protectorate, became de facto thecaptive of General Wellesley in 1804, with a yearly pension of 12, 000rupees. We then started for the village of Vargaon, once fortified andstill very rich. We were to spend the hottest hours of the day there, from nine in the morning until four in the afternoon, and proceedafterwards to the historical caves of Birsa and Badjah, about threemiles from Karli. 

At about two P. M. When, in spite of the huge punkahs waving to and fro, we were grumbling at the heat, appeared our friend the Mahratta Brahman, whom we thought we had lost on the way. Accompanied by half-a-dozenDaknis (inhabitants of the Dekhan plateau) he was slowly advancing, seated almost on the ears of his horse, which snorted and seemed veryunwilling to move. When he reached the verandah and jumped down, wesaw the reason of his disappearance. Across the saddle was tied a hugetiger, whose tail dragged in the dust. There were traces of dark bloodin his half opened mouth. He was taken from the horse and laid down bythe doorstep. 

Was it our visitor of the night before? I looked at Gulab-Sing. Helay on a rug in a corner, resting his head on his hand and reading. Heknitted his brows slightly, but did not say a word. The Brahman whohad just brought the tiger was very silent too, watching over certainpreparations, as if making ready for some solemnity. We soon learnedthat, in the eyes of a superstitious people, what was about to happenwas a solemnity indeed. 

A bit of hair cut from the skin of a tiger that has been killed, neitherby bullet, nor by knife, but by a "word, " is considered the best of alltalismans against his tribe. 

"This is a very rare opportunity, " explained the Mahratti. "It is veryseldom that one meets with a man who possesses the word. Yogis andSadhus do not generally kill wild animals, thinking it sinful to destroyany living creature, be it even a cobra or a tiger, so they simply keepout of the way of noxious animals. There exists only one brotherhood inIndia whose members possess all secrets, and from whom nothing in natureis concealed. Here is the body of the tiger to testify that the animalwas not killed with a weapon of any kind, but simply by the word ofGulab-Lal-Sing. I found it, very easily, in the bushes exactly under ourvihara, at the foot of the rock over which the tiger had rolled, alreadydead. Tigers never make false steps. Gulab-Lal-Sing, you are a Raj-Yogi, and I salute you!" added the proud Brahman, kneeling before the Takur. 

"Do not use vain words, Krishna Rao!" interrupted Gulab-Sing. "Get up;do not play the part of a Shudra. "

"I obey you, Sahib, but, forgive me, I trust my own judgment. NoRaj-Yogi ever yet acknowledged his connection with the brotherhood, since the time Mount Abu came into existence. "

And he began distributing bits of hair taken from the dead animal. Noone spoke, I gazed curiously at the group of my fellow-travelers. Thecolonel, President of our Society, sat with downcast eyes, very pale. His secretary, Mr. Y----, lay on his back, smoking a cigar and lookingstraight above him, with no expression in his eyes. He silently acceptedthe hair and put it in his purse. The Hindus stood round the tiger, and the Sinhalese traced mysterious signs on its forehead. Gulab-Singcontinued quietly reading his book. ----

The Birza cave, about six miles from Vargaon, is constructed on thesame plan as Karli. The vault-like ceiling of the temple rests upontwenty-six pillars, eighteen feet high, and the portico on four, twenty-eight feet high; over the portico are carved groups of horses, oxen, and elephants, of the most exquisite beauty. The "Hall ofInitiation" is a spacious, oval room, with pillars, and eleven very deepcells cut in the rock. The Bajah caves are older and more beautiful. Inscriptions may still be seen showing that all these temples were builtby Buddhists, or, rather, by Jainas. Modern Buddhists believe in oneBuddha only, Gautama, Prince of Kapilavastu (six centuries beforeChrist) whereas the Jainas recognize a Buddha in each of theirtwenty-four divine teachers (Tirthankaras) the last of whom was the Guru(teacher) of Gautama. This disagreement is very embarrassing when peopletry to conjecture the antiquity of this or that vihara or chaitya. Theorigin of the Jaina sect is lost in the remotest, unfathomed antiquity, so the name of Buddha, mentioned in the inscriptions, may be attributedto the last of the Buddhas as easily as to the first, who lived (seeTod's genealogy) a long time before 2, 200 B. C. 

One of the inscriptions in the Baira cave, for instance, in cuneiformcharacters, says: "From an ascetic in Nassik to the one who is worthy, to the holy Buddha, purified from sins, heavenly and great. "

This tends to convince scientists that the cave was cut out byBuddhists. 

Another inscription, in the same cave, but over an-other cell, containsthe following: "An agreeable offering of a small gift to the movingforce [life], to the mind principle [soul], the well-beloved materialbody, fruit of Manu, priceless treasure, to the highest and herepresent, Heavenly. "

Of course the conclusion is drawn that the building does not belong tothe Buddhists, but to the Brahmans, who believe in Manu. 

Here are two more inscriptions from Bajah caves. 

"An agreeable gift of the symbol and vehicle of the purified Saka-Saka. "

"Gift of the vehicle of Radha [wife of Krishna, symbol of perfection] toSugata who is gone for ever. "

Sugata, again, is one of the names of Buddha. A new contradiction!

It was somewhere here, in the neighborhood of Vargaon, that theMahrattis seized Captain Vaughan and his brother, who were hanged afterthe battle of Khirki. 

Next morning we drove to Chinchor, or, as it is called here, Chinchood. This place is celebrated in the annals of the Dekkan. Here one meetswith a repetition in miniature of what takes place on a larger scaleat L'hassa in Tibet. As Buddha incarnates in every new Dalai-Lama, so, here, Gunpati (Ganesha, the god of wisdom with the elephant's head) isallowed by his father Shiva to incarnate in the eldest son of a certainBrahman family. There is a splendid temple erected in his honor, wherethe avatars (incarnations) of Gunpati have lived and received adorationfor over two hundred years. 

This is how it happened. 

About 250 years ago a poor Brahman couple were promised, in sleep, bythe god of wisdom that he would incarnate in their eldest son. The boywas named Maroba (one of the god's titles) in honor of the deity. Marobagrew up, married, and begot several sons, after which he was commandedby the god to relinquish the world and finish his days in the desert. There, during twenty-two years, according to the legend, Maroba wroughtmiracles and his fame grew day by day. He lived in an impenetrablejungle, in a corner of the thick forest that covered Chinchood in thosedays. Gunpati appeared to him once more, and promised to incarnate inhis descendants for seven generations. After this there was no limitto his miracles, so that the people began to worship him, and ended bybuilding a splendid temple for him. 

At last Maroba gave orders to the people to bury him alive, in a sittingposture, with an open book in his hands, and never to open his graveagain under penalty of his wrath and maledictions. After the burialof Maroba, Gunpati incarnated in his first-born, who began a conjuringcareer in his turn. So that Maroba-Deo I, was replaced by Chintaman-DeoI. This latter god had eight wives and eight sons. The tricks of theeldest of these sons, Narayan-Deo I, became so celebrated that his famereached the ears of the Emperor Alamgir. In order to test the extent ofhis "deification, " Alamgir sent him a piece of a cow's tail wrapped inrich stuffs and coverings. Now, to touch the tail of a dead cow is theworst of all degradations for a Hindu. On receiving it Narayan sprinkledthe parcel with water, and, when the stuffs were unfolded, there wasfound enclosed in them a nosegay of white syringa, instead of theungodly tail. This transformation rejoiced the Emperor so much that hepresented the god with eight villages, to cover his private expenses. Narayan's social position and property were inherited by Chintaman-DeoII. , whose heir was Dharmadhar, and, lastly, Narayan II came intopower. He drew down the malediction of Gunpati by violating the graveof Maroba. That is why his son, the last of the gods, is to die withoutissue. 

When we saw him he was an aged man, about ninety years old. He wasseated on a kind of platform. His head shook and his eyes idioticallystared without seeing us, the result of his constant use of opium. Onhis neck, ears, and toes, shone precious stones, and all around werespread offerings. We had to take off our shoes before we were allowed toapproach this half-ruined relic. ----

On the evening of the same day we returned to Bombay. Two days later wewere to start on our long journey to the North-West Provinces, and ourroute promised to be very attractive. We were to see Nassik, one of thefew towns mentioned by Greek historians, its caves, and the tower ofRama; to visit Allahabad, the ancient Prayaga, the metropolis of themoon dynasty, built at the confluence of the Ganges and Jumna; Benares, the town of five thousand temples and as many monkeys; Cawnpur, notorious for the bloody revenge of Nana Sahib; the remains of the cityof the sun, destroyed, according to the computations of Colebrooke, sixthousand years ago; Agra and Delhi; and then, having explored Rajistanwith its thousand Takur castles, fortresses, ruins, and legends, we wereto go to Lahore, the metropolis of the Punjab, and, lastly, to stay fora while in Amritsar. There, in the Golden Temple, built in the centreof the "Lake of Immortality, " was to be held the first meeting of themembers of our Society, Brahmans, Buddhists, Sikhs, etc. --in a word, the representatives of the one thousand and one sects of India, who allsympathized, more or less, with the idea of the Brotherhood of Humanityof our Theosophical Society. 

Vanished Glories

Benares, Prayaga (now Allahabad), Nassik, Hurdwar, Bhadrinath, Matura--these were the sacred places of prehistoric India which we wereto visit one after the other; but to visit them, not after the usualmanner of tourists, a vol d'oiseau, with a cheap guide-book in our handsand a cicerone to weary our brains, and wear out our legs. We were wellaware that all these ancient places are thronged with traditions andovergrown with the weeds of popular fancy, like ruins of ancient castlescovered with ivy; that the original shape of the building is destroyedby the cold embrace of these parasitic plants, and that it is asdifficult for the archaeologist to form an idea of the architectureof the once perfect edifice, judging only by the heaps of disfiguredrubbish that cover the country, as for us to select from out the thickmass of legends good wheat from weeds. No guides and no cicerone couldbe of any use whatever to us. The only thing they could do would be topoint out to us places where once there stood a fortress, a castle, atemple, a sacred grove, or a celebrated town, and then to repeat legendswhich came into existence only lately, under the Mussulman rule. As tothe undisguised truth, the original history of every interesting spot, we should have had to search for these by ourselves, assisted only byour own conjectures. 

Modern India does not present a pale shadow of what it was in thepre-Christian era, nor even of the Hindostan of the days of Akbar, Shah-Jehan and Aurungzeb. The neighborhood of every town that has beenshattered by many a war, and of every ruined hamlet, is covered withround reddish pebbles, as if with so many petrified tears of blood. But, in order to approach the iron gate of some ancient fortress, it is notover natural pebbles that it is necessary to walk, but over the brokenfragments of some older granite remains, under which, very often, restthe ruins of a third town, still more ancient than the last. Modernnames have been given to them by Mussulmans, who generally built theirtowns upon the remains of those they had just taken by assault. Thenames of the latter are sometimes mentioned in the legends, but thenames of their predecessors had completely disappeared from the popularmemory even before the Mussulman invasion. Will a time ever comefor these secrets of the centuries to be revealed? Knowing all thisbeforehand, we resolved not to lose patience, even though we had todevote whole years to explorations of the same places, in order toobtain better historical information, and facts less disfigured thanthose obtained by our predecessors, who had to be contented with achoice collection of naive lies, poured forth from the mouth of somefrightened semi-savage, or some Brahman, unwilling to speak and desirousof disguising the truth. As for ourselves, we were differently situated. We were helped by a whole society of educated Hindus, who were as deeplyinterested in the same questions as ourselves. Besides, we had a promiseof the revelation of some secrets, and the accurate translation of someancient chronicles, that had been preserved as if by a miracle. 

The history of India has long since faded from the memories of her sons, and is still a mystery to her conquerors. Doubtless it still exists, though, perchance, only partly, in manuscripts that are jealouslyconcealed from every European eye. This has been shown by somepregnant words, spoken by Brahmans on their rare occasions of friendlyexpansiveness. Thus, Colonel Tod, whom I have already quoted severaltimes, is said to have been told by a Mahant, the chief of an ancientpagoda-monastery: "Sahib, you lose your time in vain researches. TheBellati India [India of foreigners] is before you, but you willnever see the Gupta India [secret India]. We are the guardians of hermysteries, and would rather cut out each other's tongues than speak. "

Yet, nevertheless, Tod succeeded in learning a good deal. It must beborne in mind that no Englishman has ever been loved so well by thenatives as this old and courageous friend of the Maharana of Oodeypur, who, in his turn, was so friendly towards the natives that the humblestof them never saw a trace of contempt in his demeanour. He wrote beforeethnology had reached its present stage of development, but his bookis still an authority on everything concerning Rajistan. Though theauthor's opinion of his work was not very high, though he stated that"it is nothing but a conscientious collection of materials for a futurehistorian, " still in this book is to be found many a thing undreamed ofby any British civil servant. 

"Let our friends smile incredulously. Let our enemies laugh at ourpretensions to penetrate the world-mysteries of Aryavarta, " as a certaincritic recently expressed himself. However pessimistic may be ourcritics' views, yet, even in the event of our conclusions not provingmore trustworthy than those of Fergusson, Wilson, Wheeler, and the restof the archeologists and Sanskritists who have written about India, still, I hope, they will not be less susceptible of proof. We are dailyreminded that, like unreasonable children, we have undertaken a taskbefore which archaeologists and historians, aided by all the influenceand wealth of the Government, have shrunk dismayed; that we have takenupon ourselves a work which has proved to be beyond the capacities ofthe Royal Asiatic Society. 

Let it be so. 

Let everyone try to remember, as we ourselves remember, that not verylong ago a poor Hungarian, who not only had no means of any kind but wasalmost a beggar, traveled on foot to Tibet through unknown and dangerouscountries, led only by the love of learning and the eager wish topour light on the historical origin of his nation. The result was thatinexhaustible mines of literary treasures were discovered. Philology, which till then had wandered in the Egyptian darkness of etymologicallabyrinths, and was about to ask the sanction of the scientific worldto one of the wildest of theories, suddenly stumbled on the clue ofAriadne. Philology discovered, at last, that the Sanskrit language is, if not the forefather, at least--to use the language of Max Muller--"theelder brother" of all classical languages. Thanks to the extraordinaryzeal of Alexander Csoma de Koros, Tibet yielded a language theliterature of which was totally unknown. He partly translated it andpartly analyzed and explained it. His translations have shown thescientific world that (1) the originals of the Zend-Avesta, the sacredscriptures of the sun-worshippers, of Tripitaka, that of the Buddhists, and of Aytareya-Brahmanam, that of the Brahmans, were written in one andthe same Sanskrit language; (2) that all these three languages--Zend, Nepalese, and the modern Brahman Sanskrit--are more or less dialects ofthe first; (3) that old Sanskrit is the origin of all the less ancientIndo-European languages, as well as of the modern Europeantongues and dialects; (4) that the three chief religions ofheathendom--Zoroastrianism, Buddhism and Brahmanism--are mere heresiesof the monotheistic teachings of the Vedas, which does not prevent themfrom being real ancient religions and not modern falsifications. 

The moral of all this is evident. A poor traveler, without either moneyor protection, succeeded in gaining admittance to the Lamaseries ofTibet and to the sacred literature of the isolated tribe which inhabitsit, probably because he treated the Mongolians and the Tibetans ashis brothers and not as an inferior race--a feat which has never beenaccomplished by generations of scientists. One cannot help feelingashamed of humanity and science when one thinks that he whose laborsfirst gave to science such precious results, he who was the first sowerof such an abundant harvest, remained, almost until the day of hisdeath, a poor and obscure worker. On his way from Tibet he walked toCalcutta without a penny in his pocket. At last Csoma de Koros becameknown, and his name began to be pronounced with honor and praise whilsthe was dying in one of the poorest parts of Calcutta. Being already veryill, he wanted to get back to Tibet, and started on foot again throughSikkhim. He succumbed to his illness on the road and was buried inDarhjeeling. 

It is needless to say we are fully aware that what we have undertaken issimply impossible within the limits of ordinary newspaper articles. All we hope to accomplish is to lay the foundation stone of an edifice, whose further progress must be entrusted to future generations. In orderto combat successfully the theories worked out by two generations ofOrientalists, half a century of diligent labor would be required. And, in order to replace these theories with new ones, we must get new facts, facts founded not on the chronology and false evidence of schemingBrahmans, whose interest is to feed the ignorance of EuropeanSanskritists (as, unfortunately, was the experience of LieutenantWilford and Louis Jacolliot), but on indubitable proofs that are tobe found in inscriptions as yet undeciphered. The clue to theseinscriptions Europeans do not possess, because, as I have alreadystated, it is guarded in MSS. Which are as old as the inscriptions andwhich are almost out of reach. Even in case our hopes are realized andwe obtain this clue, a new difficulty will arise before us. We shallhave to begin a systematic refutation, page by page, of many a volumeof hypotheses published by the Royal Asiatic Society. A work likethis might be accomplished by dozens of tireless, never-restingSanskritists--a class which, even in India, is almost as rare as whiteelephants. 

Thanks to private contributions and the zeal of some educated Hindupatriots, two free classes of Sanskrit and Pali had already beenopened--one in Bombay by the Theosophical Society, the other in Benaresunder the presidency of the learned Rama-Misra-Shastri. In the presentyear, 1882, the Theosophical Society has, altogether, fourteen schoolsin Ceylon and India. 

Our heads full of thoughts and plans of this kind, we, that is to say, one American, three Europeans, and three natives, occupied a wholecarriage of the Great Indian Peninsular Railroad on our way to Nassik, one of the oldest towns in India, as I have already mentioned, andthe most sacred of all in the eyes of the inhabitants of the WesternPresidency. Nassik borrowed its name from the Sanskrit word "Nasika, "which means nose. An epic legend assures us that on this very spotLakshman, the eldest brother of the deified King Rama, cut off the noseof the giantess Sarpnaka, sister of Ravana, who stole Sita, the "Helenof Troy" of the Hindus. 

The train stops six miles from the town, so that we had to finish ourjourney in six two-wheeled, gilded chariots, called ekkas, and drawn bybullocks. It was one o'clock A. M. , but, in spite of the darkness of thehour, the horns of the animals were gilded and adorned with flowers, and brass bangles tinkled on their legs. Our waylay through ravinesovergrown with jungle, where, as our drivers hastened to informus, tigers and other four-footed misanthropes of the forest playedhide-and-seek. However, we had no opportunity of making the acquaintanceof the tigers, but enjoyed instead a concert of a whole community ofjackals. They followed us step by step, piercing our ears with shrieks, wild laughter and barking. These animals are annoying, but so cowardlythat, though numerous enough to devour, not only all of us, but ourgold-horned bullocks too, none of them dared to come nearer than thedistance of a few steps. Every time the long whip, our weapon againstsnakes, alighted on the back of one of them, the whole horde disappearedwith unimaginable noise. Nevertheless, the drivers did not dispense witha single one of their superstitious precautions against tigers. Theychanted mantrams in unison, spread betel over the road as a token oftheir respect to the Rajas of the forest, and, after every couplet, made the bullocks kneel and bow their heads in honor of the great gods. Needless to say, the ekka, as light as a nutshell, threatened each timeto fall with its passenger over the horns of the bullocks. We had toendure this agreeable way of traveling for five hours under a very darksky. We reached the Inn of the Pilgrims in the morning at about sixo'clock. 

The real cause of Nassik's sacredness, however, is not the mutilatedtrunk of the giantess, but the situation of the town on the banks ofthe Godavari, quite close to the sources of this river which, for somereason or other, are called by the natives Ganga (Ganges). It is tothis magic name, probably, that the town owes its numerous magnificenttemples, and the selectness of the Brahmans who inhabit the banks ofthe river. Twice a year pilgrims flock here to pray, and on these solemnoccasions the number of the visitors exceeds that of the inhabitants, which is only 35, 000. Very picturesque, but equally dirty, are thehouses of the rich Brahmans built on both sides of the way from thecentre of the town to the Godavari. A whole forest of narrow pyramidaltemples spreads on both sides of the river. All these new pagodasare built on the ruins of those destroyed by the fanaticism of theMussulmans. A legend informs us that most of them rose from the ashesof the tail of the monkey god Hanuman. Retreating from Lanka, wherethe wicked Ravana, having anointed the brave hero's tail with somecombustible stuff set it on fire, Hanuman, with a single leap throughthe air, reached Nassik, his fatherland. And here the noble adornmentof the monkey's back, burned almost entirely during the voyage, crumbledinto ashes, and from every sacred atom of these ashes, fallen tothe ground, there rose a temple. .. . And, indeed, when seen fromthe mountain, these numberless pagodas, scattered in a most curiousdisorderly way, look as if they had really been thrown down by handfulsfrom the sky. Not only the river banks and the surrounding country, butevery little island, every rock peeping from the water is coveredwith temples. And not one of them is destitute of a legend of itsown, different versions of which are told by every individual of theBrahmanical community according to his own taste--of course in the hopeof a suitable reward. 

Here, as everywhere else in India, Brahmans are divided into twosects--worshippers of Shiva and worshippers of Vishnu--and between thetwo there is rivalry and warfare centuries old. Though the neighborhoodof the Godavari shines with a twofold fame derived from its being thebirthplace of Hanuman and the theatre of the first great deeds of Rama, the incarnation of Vishnu, it possesses as many temples dedicated toShiva as to Vishnu. The material of which the pagodas consecrated toShiva are constructed is black basalt. And it is, exactly, the colorof the material which is the apple of discord in this case. The blackmaterial is claimed by the Vaishnavas as their own, it being of thesame color as the burned tail of Rama's ally. They try to prove thatthe Shivaites have no right to it. From the first days of their rulethe English inherited endless lawsuits between the fighting sectarians, cases decided in one law-court only to be transferred on appeal toanother, and always having their origin in this ill-omened tail and itspretensions. This tail is a mysterious deus ex machina that directs allthe thoughts of the Nassik Brahmans pro and contra. 

On the subject of this tail were written more reams of paper andpetitions than in the quarrel about the goose between Ivan Ivanitch andIvan Nikiphoritch; and more ink and bile were spilt than there was mudin Mirgorod, since the creation of the universe. The pig that so happilydecided the famous quarrel in Gogol would be a priceless blessing toNassik, and the struggle for the tail. But unhappily even the "pig" ifit hailed from "Russia" would be of no avail in India; for the Englishwould suspect it at once, and arrest it as a Russian spy!

Rama's bathing place is shown in Nassik. The ashes of pious Brahmans arebrought hither from distant parts to be thrown into the Godavari, and soto mingle for ever with the sacred waters of Ganges. In an ancient MS. There is a statement of one of Rama's generals, who, somehow or other, is not mentioned in the Ramayana. This statement points to the riverGodavari as the frontier between the kingdoms of Rama, King of Ayodya(Oude), and of Ravana, King of Lanka (Ceylon). Legends and the poem ofRamayana state that this was the spot where Rama, while hunting, saw abeautiful antelope, and, intending to make a present to his beloved Sitaof its skin, entered the regions of his unknown neighbor. No doubt Rama, Ravana, and even Hanuman, promoted, for some unexplained reason, tothe rank of a monkey, are historical personages who once had a realexistence. About fifty years ago it was vaguely suspected that theBrahmans possessed priceless MSS. It was reported that one of theseMSS. Treats of the prehistoric epoch when the Aryans first invaded thecountry, and began an endless war with the dark aborigines of southernIndia. But the religious fanaticism of the Hindus never allowed theEnglish Government to verify these reports. 

The most interesting sights of Nassik are its cave-temples, about fivemiles from the town. The day before we started thither, I certainlydid not dream that a "tail" would have to play an important part inour visit to Nassik, that, in this case, it would save me, if not fromdeath, at least from disagreeable and perhaps dangerous bruises. This ishow it happened. 

As the difficult task of ascending a steep mountain lay before us, we decided to hire elephants. The best couple in the town was broughtbefore us. Their owner assured us "that the Prince of Wales had riddenupon them and was very contented. " To go there and back and have them inattendance the whole day--in fact the whole pleasure-trip--was to costus two rupees for each elephant. Our native friends, accustomed frominfancy to this way of riding, were not long in getting on the back oftheir elephant. They covered him like flies, with no predilection forthis or that spot of his vast back. They held on by all kinds of stringsand ropes, more with their toes than their fingers, and, on the whole, presented a picture of contentment and comfort. We Europeans had to usethe lady elephant, as being the tamer of the two. On her back therewere two little benches with sloping seats on both sides, and not theslightest prop for our backs. The wretched, undergrown youngsters seenin European circuses give no idea of the real size of this noble beast. The mahout, or driver, placed himself between the huge animal's earswhilst we gazed at the "perfected" seats ready for us with an uneasyfeeling of distrust The mahout ordered his elephant to kneel, and itmust be owned that in climbing on her back with the aid of a smallladder, I felt what the French call chair de poule. Our she-elephantanswered to the poetical name of "Chanchuli Peri, " the Active Fairy, andreally was the most obedient and the merriest of all the representativesof her tribe that I have ever seen. Clinging to each other we at lastgave the signal for departure, and the mahout goaded the right ear ofthe animal with an iron rod. First the elephant raised herself on herfore-legs, which movement tilted us all back, then she heavily rose onher hind ones, too, and we rolled forwards, threatening to upset themahout. But this was not the end of our misfortunes. At the veryfirst steps of Peri we slipped about in all directions, like quiveringfragments of blancmange. 

The journey came to a sudden pause. We were picked up in a hasty way, replaced on our respective seats, during which proceeding Peri's trunkproved very active, and the journey continued. The very thought of thefive miles before us filled us with horror, but we would not give upthe excursion, and indignantly refused to be tied to our seats, as wassuggested by our Hindu companions, who could not suppress their merrylaughter. .. . However, I bitterly repented this display of vanity. Thisunusual mode of locomotion was something incredibly fantastical, and, at the same time, ridiculous. A horse carrying our luggage trottedby Peri's side, and looked, from our vast elevation, no bigger than adonkey. At every mighty step of Peri we had to be prepared for all sortsof unexpected acrobatic feats, while jolted from one side to theother by her swinging gait. This experience, under the scorchingsun, unavoidably induced a state of body and mind something betweensea-sickness and a delirious nightmare. As a crown to our pleasures, when we began to ascend a tortuous little path over the stony slope ofa deep ravine, our Peri stumbled. This sudden shock caused me to lose mybalance altogether. I sat on the hinder part of the elephant's back, in the place of honor, as it is esteemed, and, once thoroughly shaken, rolled down like a log. No doubt, next moment I should have found myselfat the bottom of the ravine, with some more or less sad loss to mybodily constitution, if it had not been for the wonderful dexterity andinstinct of the clever animal. Having felt that something was wrong shetwisted her tail round me, stopped instantaneously and began to kneeldown carefully. But my natural weight was too much for the thin tailof this kind animal. Peri did not lose hold of me, but, having at lastknelt down, she moaned plaintively, though discreetly, thinking probablythat she had nearly lost her tail through being so generous. The mahouthurried to my rescue and then examined the damaged tail of his animal. 

We now witnessed a scene that clearly showed us the coarse cunning, greediness and cowardice of a low-class Hindu, of an outcast, as theyare denominated here. 

The mahout very indifferently and composedly examined Peri's tail, andeven pulled it several times to make sure, and was already on the pointof hoisting himself quietly into his usual place, when I had the unhappythought of muttering something that expressed my regret and compassion. My words worked a miraculous transformation in the mahout's behavior. Hethrew himself on the ground, and rolled about like a demoniac, utteringhorrible wild groans. Sobbing and crying he kept on repeating that theMam-Sahib had torn off his darling Peri's tail, that Peri was damagedfor ever in everybody's estimation, that Peri's husband, the proudAiravati, lineal descendant of Indra's own favourite elephant, havingwitnessed her shame, would renounce his spouse, and that she had betterdie. .. . Yells and bitter tears were his only answer to all remonstrancesof our companions. In vain we tried to persuade him that the "proudAiravati" did not show the slightest disposition to be so cruel, in vainwe pointed out to him that all this time both elephants stood quietlytogether, Airavati even at this critical moment rubbing his trunkaffectionately against Peri's neck, and Peri not looking in the leastdiscomfited by the accident to her tail. All this was of no avail! Ourfriend Narayan lost his patience at last. He was a man of extraordinarymuscular strength and took recourse to a last original means. With onehand he threw down a silver rupee, with the other he seized the mahout'smuslin garment and hurled him after the coin. Without giving a thoughtto his bleeding nose, the mahout jumped at the rupee with the greedinessof a wild beast springing upon its prey. He prostrated himself in thedust before us repeatedly, with endless "salaams, " instantly changinghis deep sorrow into mad joy. He gave another pull at the unfortunatetail and gladly declared that, thanks to the "prayers of the sahib, " itreally was safe; to demonstrate which he hung on to it, till he was tornaway and put back on his seat. 

"Is it possible that a single, miserable rupee can have been the causeof all this?" we asked each other in utter bewilderment. 

"Your astonishment is natural enough, " answered the Hindus. "We neednot express how ashamed and how disgusted we all feel at this voluntarydisplay of humiliation and greed. But do not forget that this wretch, who certainly has a wife and children, serves his employer for twelverupees a year, instead of which he often gets nothing but a beating. Remember also the long centuries of tyrannical treatment from Brahmans, from fanatical Mussulmans, who regard a Hindu as nothing better than anunclean reptile, and, nowadays, from the average Englishman, and maybeyou will pity this wretched caricature of humanity. "

But the "caricature" in question evidently felt perfectly happy andnot in the least conscious of a humiliation of any kind. Sitting on theroomy forehead of his Peri, he was telling her of his unexpected wealth, reminding her of her "divine" origin, and ordering her to salute the"sahibs" with her trunk. Peri, whose spirits had been raised by the giftof a whole stick of sugar-cane from me, lifted her trunk backwards andplayfully blew into our faces. 

On the threshold of the Nassik caves we bid good-bye to the modernpigmy India, to the petty things of her everyday life, and to herhumiliations. We re-entered the unknown world of India, the great andthe mysterious. 

The main caves of Nassik are excavated in a mountain bearing the nameof Pandu-Lena, which points again to the undying, persistent, primaevaltradition that ascribes all such buildings to the five mythical (?)brothers of prehistoric times. The unanimous opinion of archaeologistsesteems these caves more interesting and more important than all thecaves of Elephanta and Karli put together. And, nevertheless--is it notstrange?--with the exception of the learned Dr. Wilson, who, it may be, was a little too fond of forming hasty opinions, no archaeologist has, as yet, made so bold as to decide to what epoch they belong, by whomthey were erected, and which of the three chief religions of antiquitywas the one professed by their mysterious builders. 

It is evident, however, that those who wrought here did not all belongeither to the same generation or to the same sect. The first thing whichstrikes the attention is the roughness of the primitive work, its hugedimensions, and the decline of the sculpture on the solid walls, whereasthe sculpture and carvings of the six colossi which prop the chief caveon the second floor, are magnificently preserved and very elegant. This circumstance would lead one to think that the work was begunmany centuries before it was finished. But when? One of the Sanskritinscriptions of a comparatively recent epoch (on the pedestal of one ofthe colossi) clearly points to 453 B. C. As the year of the building. Atall events, Barth, Stevenson, Gibson, Reeves, and some other scientists, who being Westerns can have none of the prejudices proper to the nativePundits, have formed this conjecture on the basis of some astronomicaldata. Besides, the conjunction of the planets stated in the inscriptionleaves no doubt as to the dates, it must be either 453 B. C. , or 1734of our era, or 2640 B. C. , which last is impossible, because Buddha andBuddhist monasteries are mentioned in the inscription. I translate someof the most important sentences:

"To the most Perfect and the Highest! May this be agreeable to Him! Theson of King Kshaparata, Lord of the Kshatriya tribe and protector ofpeople, the Ruler of Dinik, bright as the dawn, sacrifices a hundredthousand cows that graze on the river Banasa, together with the river, and also the gift of gold by the builder of this holy shelter of gods, the place of the curbing of the Brahmans' passions. There is no moredesirable place than this place, neither in Prabhasa, where accumulatehundreds of thousands of Brahmans repeating the sacred verse, nor in thesacred city Gaya, nor on the steep mountain near Dashatura, nor on theSerpents' Field in Govardhana, nor in the city Pratisraya wherestands the monastery of Buddhists, nor even in the edifice erected byDepana-kara on the shores of the fresh water [?] sea. This place, givingincomparable favors, is agreeable and useful in all respects to thespotted deerskin of an ascetic. A safe boat given also by him who builtthe gratuitous ferry daily transports to the well-guarded shore. By himalso who built the house for travelers and the public fountain, a gildedlion was erected by the ever-assaulted gate of this Govardhana, alsoanother [lion] by the ferry-boat, and another by Ramatirtha. Variouskinds of food will always be found here by the scanty flock; for thisflock more than a hundred kinds of herbs and thousands of mountainroots are stored by this generous giver. In the same Govardhana, in theluminous mountain, this second cave was dug by the order of the samebeneficent person, during the very year when the Sun, Shukra and Rahu, much respected by men, were in the full glory of their rise; it was inthis year that the gifts were offered. Lakshmi, Indra and Yama havingblessed them, returned with shouts of triumph to their chariot, kept onthe way free from obstacles [the sky], by the force of mantrams. Whenthey [the gods] all left, poured a heavy shower. .. .. " and so on. 

Rahn and Kehetti are the fixed stars which form the head and the tailof the constellation of the Dragon. Shukra is Venus. Lakshmi, Indra andYama stand here for the constellations of Virgo, Aquarius and Taurus, which are subject and consecrated to these three among the twelve higherdeities. 

The first caves are dugout in a conical hillock about two hundred andeighty feet from its base. In the chief of them stand three statues ofBuddha; in the lateral ones a lingam and two Jaina idols. In the topcave there is a statue of Dharma Raja, or Yudhshtira, the eldest of thePandus, who is worshipped in a temple erected in his honor, between Pentand Nassik. Farther on is a whole labyrinth of cells, where Buddhisthermits probably lived, a huge statue of Buddha in a reclining posture. And another as big, but surrounded with pillars adorned with figures ofvarious animals. Styles, epochs and sects are here as much mixed up andentangled as different trees in a thick forest. 

It is very remarkable that almost all the cave temples of India are tobe found inside conical rocks and mountains. It is as though the ancientbuilders looked for such natural pyramids purposely. I noticed thispeculiarity in Karli, and it is to be met with only in India. Is ita mere coincidence, or is it one of the rules of the religiousarchitecture of the remote past? And which are the imitators--thebuilders of the Egyptian pyramids, or the unknown architects of theunder ground caves of India? In pyramids as well as in caves everythingseems to be calculated with geometrical exactitude. In neither case arethe entrances ever at the bottom, but always at a certain distance fromthe ground. It is well known that nature does not imitate art, and, asa rule, art tries to copy certain forms of nature. And if, even in thissimilarity of the symbols of Egypt and India, nothing is to be found buta coincidence, we shall have to own that coincidences are sometimes veryextraordinary. Egypt has borrowed many things from India. We must notforget that nothing is known about the origin of the Pharaohs, andthat the few facts science has succeeded in discovering, far fromcontradicting our theory, suggest India as the cradle of the Egyptianrace. In the days of remote antiquity Kalluka-Bhatta wrote: "During thereign of Visvamitra, first king of the Soma-Vansha dynasty, after a fivedays battle, Manu-Vena, the heir of ancient kings, was abandoned by theBrahmans, and emigrated with his army, and, having traversed Arya andBarria, at last reached the shores of Masra. .. .. "

Arya is Iran or Persia; Barria is an ancient name of Arabia; Masr orMasra is a name of Cairo, disfigured by Mussulmans into Misro and Musr. 

Kalluka-Bhatta is an ancient writer. Sanskritists still quarrel over hisepoch, wavering between 2, 000 years B. C. , and the reign of the EmperorAkbar (the time of John the Terrible and Elizabeth of England). On thegrounds of this uncertainty, the evidence of Kalluka-Bhatta might beobjected to. In this case, there are the words of a modern historian, who has studied Egypt all his life, not in Berlin or London, like someother historians, but in Egypt, deciphering the inscriptions of theoldest sarcophagi and papyri, that is to say, the words of HenryBrugsch-Bey:

". .. I repeat, my firm conviction is that the Egyptians came from Asialong before the historical period, having traversed the Suez promontory, that bridge of all the nations, and found a new fatherland on the banksof the Nile. "

An inscription on a Hammamat rock says that Sankara, the last Pharaoh ofthe eleventh dynasty, sent a nobleman to Punt: "I was sent on a ship toPunt, to bring back some aromatic gum, gathered by the princes of theRed Land. "

Commenting on this inscription, Brugsch-Bey explains that "under thename of Punt the ancient inhabitants of Chemi meant a distant landsurrounded by a great ocean, full of mountains and valleys, and richin ebony and other expensive woods, in perfumes, precious stones andmetals, in wild beasts, giraffes, leopards and big monkeys. " The name ofa monkey in Egypt was Kaff, or Kafi, in Hebrew Koff, in Sanskrit Kapi. 

In the eyes of the ancient Egyptians, this Punt was a sacred land, because Punt or Panuter was "the original land of the gods, who leftit under the leadership of A-Mon [Manu-Vena of Kalluka-Bhatta?] Hor andHator, and duly arrived in Chemi. "

Hanuman has a decided family likeness to the Egyptian Cynocephalus, andthe emblem of Osiris and Shiva is the same. Qui vivra verra!

Our return journey was very agreeable. We had adapted ourselves toPeri's movements and felt ourselves first-rate jockeys. But for a wholeweek afterwards we could hardly walk. 

A City Of The Dead

What would be your choice if you had to choose between being blind andbeing deaf? Nine people out of ten answer this question by positivelypreferring deafness to blindness. And one whose good fortune it has beento contemplate, even for a moment, some fantastic fairy-like corner ofIndia, this country of lace-like marble palaces and enchanting gardens, would willingly add to deafness, lameness of both legs, rather than losesuch sights. 

We are told that Saadi, the great poet, bitterly complained of hisfriends looking tired and indifferent while he praised the beauty andcharm of his lady-love. "If the happiness of contemplating her wonderfulbeauty, " remonstrated he, "was yours, as it is mine, you could notfail to understand my verses, which, alas, describe in such meagre andinadequate terms the rapturous feelings experienced by every one whosees her even from a distance!"

I fully sympathize with the enamoured poet, but cannot condemn hisfriends who never saw his lady-love, and that is why I tremble lest myconstant rhapsodies on India should bore my readers as much as Saadibored his friends. But what, I pray you, is the poor narrator to do, when new, undreamed-of charms are daily discovered in the lady-lovein question? Her darkest aspects, abject and immoral as they are, andsometimes of such a nature as to excite your horror--even these aspectsare full of some wild poetry, of originality, which cannot be met within any other country. It is not unusual for a European novice to shudderwith disgust at some features of local everyday life; but at the sametime these very sights attract and fascinate the attention like ahorrible nightmare. We had plenty of these experiences whilst our ecolebuissoniere lasted. We spent these days far from railways and from anyother vestige of civilization. Happily so, because European civilizationdoes not suit India any better than a fashionable bonnet would suit ahalf naked Peruvian maiden, a true "daughter of Sun, " of Cortes' time. 

All the day long we wandered across rivers and jungles, passing villagesand ruins of ancient fortresses, over local-board roads between Nassikand Jubblepore, traveling with the aid of bullock cars, elephants, horses, and very often being carried in palks. At nightfall we put upour tents and slept anywhere. These days offered us an opportunityof seeing that man decidedly can surmount trying and even dangerousconditions of climate, though, perhaps, in a passive way, by mere forceof habit. In the afternoons, when we, white people, were very nearlyfainting with the roasting heat, in spite of thick cork topis and suchshelter as we could procure, and even our native companions had to usemore than the usual supplies of muslin round their heads--the BengaliBabu traveled on horseback endless miles, under the vertical rays of thehot sun, bareheaded, protected only by his thick crop of hair. The sunhas no influence whatever on Bengali skulls. They are covered only onsolemn occasions, in cases of weddings and great festivities. Theirturbans are useless adornments, like flowers in a European lady's hair. 

Bengali Babus are born clerks; they invade all railroad stations, postand telegraph offices and Government law courts. Wrapped in theirwhite muslin toga virilis, their legs bare up to the knees, their headsunprotected, they proudly loaf on the platforms of railway stations, orat the entrances of their offices, casting contemptuous glances on theMahrattis, who dearly love their numerous rings and lovely earrings inthe upper part of their right ears. Bengalis, unlike the rest of theHindus, do not paint sectarian signs on their foreheads. The onlytrinket they do not completely despise is an expensive necklace; buteven this is not common. Contrary to all expectations, the Mahrattis, with all their little effeminate ways, are the bravest tribe of India, gallant and experienced soldiers, a fact which has been demonstratedby centuries of fighting; but Bengal has never as yet produced a singlesoldier out of its sixty-five million inhabitants. Not a single Bengaliis to be found in the native regiments of the British army. This is astrange fact, which I refused to believe at first, but which has beenconfirmed by many English officers and by Bengalis themselves. But withall this, they are far from being cowardly. Their wealthy classes dolead a somewhat effeminate life, but their zemindars and peasantry areundoubtedly brave. Disarmed by their present Government, the Bengalipeasants go out to meet the tiger, which in their country is moreferocious than elsewhere, armed only with a club, as composedly as theyused to go with rifles and swords. 

Many out-of-the-way paths and groves which most probably had neverbefore been trodden by a European foot, were visited by us during theseshort days. Gulab-Lal-Sing was absent, but we were accompanied by atrusted servant of his, and the welcome we met with almost everywherewas certainly the result of the magic influence of his name. If thewretched, naked peasants shrank from us and shut their doors at ourapproach, the Brahmans were as obliging as could be desired. 

The sights around Kandesh, on the way to Thalner and Mhau, are verypicturesque. But the effect is not entirely due to Nature's beauty. Arthas a good deal to do with it, especially in Mussulman cemeteries. Nowthey are all more or less destroyed and deserted, owing to the increaseof the Hindu inhabitants around them, and to the Mussulman princes, oncethe rightful lords of India, being expelled. Mussulmans of the presentday are badly off and have to put up with more humiliations than eventhe Hindus. But still they have left many memorials behind them, and, amongst others, their cemeteries. The Mussulman fidelity to the dead isa very touching feature of their character. Their devotion to thosethat are gone is always more demonstrative than their affection forthe living members of their families, and almost entirely concentratesitself on their last abodes. In proportion as their notions of paradiseare coarse and material, the appearance of their cemeteries is poetical, especially in India. One may pleasantly spend whole hours in theseshady, delightful gardens, amongst their white monuments crowned withturbans, covered with roses and jessamine and sheltered with rows ofcypresses. We often stopped in such places to sleep and dine. A cemeterynear Thalner is especially attractive. Out of several mausoleums in agood state of preservation the most magnificent is the monument of thefamily of Kiladar, who was hanged on the city tower by the order ofGeneral Hislop in 1818. Four other mausoleums attracted our attentionand we learned that one of them is celebrated throughout India. It is awhite marble octagon, covered from top to bottom with carving, thelike of which could not be found even in Pere La Chaise. A Persianinscription on its base records that it cost one hundred thousandrupees. 

By day, bathed in the hot rays of the sun, its tall minaret-like outlinelooks like a block of ice against the blue sky. By night, with the aidof the intense, phosphorescent moonlight proper to India, it is stillmore dazzling and poetical. The summit looks as if it were covered withfreshly fallen snow-crystals. Raising its slender profile above the darkbackground of bushes, it suggests some pure midnight apparition, soaringover this silent abode of destruction and lamenting what will neverreturn. Side by side with these cemeteries rise the Hindu ghats, generally by the river bank. There really is something grand in theritual of burning the dead. Witnessing this ceremony the spectator isstruck with the deep philosophy underlying the fundamental idea of thiscustom. In the course of an hour nothing remains of the body but afew handfuls of ashes. A professional Brahman, like a priest of death, scatters these ashes to the winds over a river. The ashes of what oncelived and felt, loved and hated, rejoiced and wept, are thus given backagain to the four elements: to Earth, which fed it during such a longtime and out of which it grew and developed; to Fire, emblem of purity, that has just devoured the body in order that the spirit may be ridof everything impure, and may freely gravitate to the new sphere ofposthumous existence, where every sin is a stumbling block on the way to"Moksha, " or infinite bliss; to Air, which it inhaled and through whichit lived, and to Water, which purified it physically and spiritually, and is now to receive its ashes into her pure bosom. 

The adjective "pure" must be understood in the figurative sense of themantram. Generally speaking, the rivers of India, beginning with thethrice sacred Ganges, are dreadfully dirty, especially near villages andtowns. 

In these rivers about two hundred millions of people daily cleansethemselves from the tropical perspiration and dirt. The corpses ofthose who are not worth burning are thrown in the same rivers, and theirnumber is great, because it includes all Shudras, pariahs, and variousother outcasts, as well as Brahman children under three years of age. 

Only rich and high-born people are buried pompously. It is for them thatthe sandal-wood fires are lit after sunset; it is for them that mantramsare chanted, and for them that the gods are invoked. But Shudras mustnot listen on any account to the divine words dictated at the beginningof the world by the four Rishis to Veda Vyasa, the great theologian ofAryavarta. No fires for them, no prayers. As during his life a Shudranever approaches a temple nearer than seven steps, so even after deathhe cannot be put on the same level with the "twice-born. "

Brightly burn the fires, extending like a fiery serpent along the river. The dark outlines of strange, wildly-fantastical figures silently moveamongst the flames. Sometimes they raise their arms towards the sky, asif in a prayer, sometimes they add fuel to the fires and poke them withlong iron pitchforks. The dying flames rise high, creeping and dancing, sputtering with melted human fat and shooting towards the sky wholeshowers of golden sparks, which are instantly lost in the clouds ofblack smoke. 

This on the right side of the river. Let us now see what is going onon the left. In the early hours of the morning, when the red fires, theblack clouds of miasmas, and the thin figures of the fakirs grow dim andvanish little by little, when the smell of burned flesh is blown away bythe fresh wind which rises at the approach of the dawn, when, in a word, the right side of the river with its ghotas plunges into stillnessand silence, to be reawakened when the evening comes, processions of adifferent kind appear on the left bank. We see groups of Hindu men andwomen in sad, silent trains. They approach the river quietly. Theydo not cry, and have no rituals to perform. We see two men carryingsomething long and thin, wrapped in an old red rug. Holding it by thehead and feet they swing it into the dirty, yellowish waves of theriver. The shock is so violent that the red rug flies open and we beholdthe face of a young woman tinged with dark green, who quickly disappearsin the river. Further on another group; an old man and two young women. One of them, a little girl of ten, small, thin, hardly fully developed, sobs bitterly. She is the mother of a stillborn child, whose body is tobe thrown in the river. Her weak voice monotonously resounds over theshore, and her trembling hands are not strong enough to lift the poorlittle corpse that is more like a tiny brown kitten than a human being. The old man tries to console her, and, taking the body in his own hands, enters the water and throws it right in the middle. After him both thewomen get into the river, and, having plunged seven times to purifythemselves from the touch of a dead body, they return home, theirclothes dripping with wet. In the meanwhile vultures, crows and otherbirds of prey gather in thick clouds and considerably retard theprogress of the bodies down the river. Occasionally some half-strippedskeleton is caught by the reeds, and stranded there helplessly forweeks, until an outcast, whose sad duty it is to busy himself all hislife long with such unclean work, takes notice of it, and catching itby the ribs with his long hook, restores it to its highway towards theocean. 

But let us leave the river bank, which is unbearably hot in spite ofthe early hour. Let us bid good-bye to the watery cemetery of the poor. Disgusting and heart-rending are such sights in the eyes of a European!And unconsciously we allow the light wings of reverie to transport usto the far North, to the peaceful village cemeteries where there are nomarble monuments crowned with turbans, no sandal-wood fires, no dirtyrivers to serve the purpose of a last resting place, but where humblewooden crosses stand in rows, sheltered by old birches. How peacefullyour dead repose under the rich green grass! None of them ever saw thesegigantic palms, sumptuous palaces and pagodas covered with gold. Buton their poor graves grow violets and lilies of the valley, and in thespring evenings nightingales sing to them in the old birch-trees. 

No nightingales ever sing for me, either in the neighboring groves, orin my own heart. The latter least of all. ----

Let us stroll along this wall of reddish stone. It will lead us to afortress once celebrated and drenched with blood, now harmless and halfruined, like many another Indian fortress. Flocks of green parrots, startled by our approach, fly from under every cavity of the old wall, their wings shining in the sun like so many flying emeralds. Thisterritory is accursed by Englishmen. This is Chandvad, where, duringthe Sepoy mutiny, the Bhils streamed from their ambuscades like a mightymountain torrent, and cut many an English throat. 

Tatva, an ancient Hindu book, treating of the geography of the timesof King Asoka (250-300 B. C. ), teaches us that the Mahratti territoryspreads up to the wall of Chandvad or Chandor, and that the Kandeshcountry begins on the other side of the river. But English people donot believe in Tatva or in any other authority and want us to learn thatKandesh begins right at the foot of Chandor hillocks. ----

Twelve miles south-east from Chandvad there is a whole town ofsubterranean temples, known under the name of Enkay-Tenkay. Here, again, the entrance is a hundred feet from the base, and the hill is pyramidal. I must not attempt to give a full description of these temples, as thissubject must be worked out in a way quite impossible in a newspaperarticle. So I shall only note that here all the statues, idols, andcarvings are ascribed to Buddhist ascetics of the first centuries afterthe death of Buddha. I wish I could content myself with this statement. But, unfortunately, messieurs les archeologues meet here with anunexpected difficulty, and a more serious one than all the difficultiesbrought on them by the inconsistencies of all other temples puttogether. 

In these temples there are more idols designated Buddhas than anywhereelse. They cover the main entrance, sit in thick rows along thebalconies, occupy the inner walls of the cells, watch the entrancesof all the doors like monster giants, and two of them sit in the chieftank, where spring water washes them century after century without anyharm to their granite bodies. Some of these Buddhas are decently clad, with pyramidal pagodas as their head gear; others are naked; some sit, others stand; some are real colossi, some tiny, some of middle size. However, all this would not matter; we may go so far as to overlook thefact of Gautama's or Siddhartha-Buddha's reform consisting precisely inhis earnest desire to tear up by the roots the Brahmanical idol-worship. Though, of course, we cannot help remembering that his religion remainedpure from idol-worship of any kind during centuries, until the Lamas ofTibet, the Chinese, the Burmese, and the Siamese taking it into theirlands disfigured it, and spoilt it with heresies. We cannot forget that, persecuted by conquer-ing Brahmans, and expelled from India, itfound, at last, a shelter in Ceylon where it still flourishes like thelegendary aloe, which is said to blossom once in its lifetime and thento die, as the root is killed by the exuberance of blossom, and theseeds cannot produce anything but weeds. All this we may overlook, as Isaid before. But the difficulty of the archaeologists still exists, ifnot in the fact of idols being ascribed to early Buddhists, then in thephysiognomies, in the type of all these Enkay-Tenkay Buddhas. They all, from the tiniest to the hugest, are Negroes, with flat noses, thicklips, forty five degrees of the facial angle, and curly hair! Thereis not the slightest likeness between these Negro faces and any of theSiamese or Tibetan Buddhas, which all have purely Mongolian featuresand perfectly straight hair. This unexpected African type, unheard of inIndia, upsets the antiquarians entirely. This is why the archaeologistsavoid mentioning these caves. Enkay-Tenkay is a worse difficulty forthem than even Nassik; they find it as hard to conquer as the Persiansfound Thermopylae. 

We passed by Maleganva and Chikalval, where we examined an exceedinglycurious ancient temple of the Jainas. No cement was used in the buildingof its outer walls, they consist entirely of square stones, which are sowell wrought and so closely joined that the blade of the thinnest knifecannot be pushed between two of them; the interior of the temple isrichly decorated. 

On our way back we did not stop in Thalner, but went straight on toGhara. There we had to hire elephants again to visit the splendid ruinsof Mandu, once a strongly fortified town, about twenty miles due northeast of this place. This time we got there speedily and safely. Imention this place because some time later I witnessed in its vicinity amost curious sight, offered by the branch of the numerous Indian rites, which is generally called "devil worship. "

Mandu is situated on the ridge of the Vindhya Mountains, about twothousand feet above the surface of the sea. According to Malcolm'sstatement, this town was built in A. D. 313, and for a long time was thecapital of the Hindu Rajas of Dhara. The historian Ferishtah points toMandu as the residence of Dilivan-Khan-Ghuri, the first King of Malwa, who flourished in 1387-1405. In 1526 the town was taken by Bahadur-Shah, King of Gujerat, but in 1570 Akbar won this town back, and a marble slabover the town gate still bears his name and the date of his visit. 

On entering this vast city in its present state of solitude (the nativescall it the "dead town") we all experienced a peculiar feeling, notunlike the sensation of a man who enters Pompeii for the first time. Everything shows that Mandu was once one of the wealthiest towns ofIndia. The town wall is thirty-seven miles long. Streets ran wholemiles, on their sides stand ruined palaces, and marble pillars lie onthe ground. Black excavations of the subterranean halls, in the coolnessof which rich ladies spent the hottest hours of the day, peer from underdilapidated granite walls. Further on are broken stairs, dry tanks, waterless fountains, endless empty yards, marble platforms, anddisfigured arches of majestic porches. All this is overgrown withcreepers and shrubs, hiding the dens of wild beasts. Here and there awell-preserved wall of some palace rises high above the general wreck, its empty windows fringed with parasitic plants blinking and staring atus like sightless eyes, protesting against troublesome intruders. Andstill further, in the very centre of the ruins, the heart of the deadtown sends forth a whole crop of broken cypresses, an untrimmed groveon the place where heaved once so many breasts and clamoured so manypassions. 

In 1570 this town was called Shadiabad, the abode of happiness. TheFranciscan missionaries, Adolf Aquaviva, Antario de Moncerotti, andothers, who came here in that very year as an embassy from Goa to seekvarious privileges from the Mogul Government, described it over and overagain. At this epoch it was one of the greatest cities of the world, whose magnificent streets and luxurious ways used to astonish the mostpompous courts of India. It seems almost incredible that in such a shortperiod nothing should remain of this town but the heaps of rubbish, amongst which we could hardly find room enough for our tent. At last wedecided to pitch it in the only building which remained in a tolerablestate of preservation, in Yami-Masjid, the cathedral-mosque, on agranite platform about twenty-five steps higher than the square. Thestairs, constructed of pure marble like the greater part of the townbuildings, are broad and almost untouched by time, but the roof hasentirely disappeared, and so we were obliged to put up with the starsfor a canopy. All round this building runs a low gallery supported byseveral rows of thick pillars. From a distance it reminds one, in spiteof its being somewhat clumsy and lacking in proportion, of the Acropolisof Athens. From the stairs, where we rested for a while, there was aview of the mausoleum of Gushanga-Guri, King of Malwa, in whose reignthe town was at the culmination of its brilliancy and glory. It is amassive, majestic, white marble edifice, with a sheltered peristyle andfinely carved pillars. This peristyle once led straight to the palace, but now it is surrounded with a deep ravine, full of broken stones andovergrown with cacti. The interior of the mausoleum is covered withgolden lettering of inscriptions from the Koran, and the sarcophagusof the sultan is placed in the middle. Close by it stands the palaceof Baz-Bahadur, all broken to pieces--nothing now but a heap of dustcovered with trees. 

We spent the whole day visiting these sad remains, and returned toour sheltering place a little before sunset, exhausted with hungerand thirst, but triumphantly carrying on our sticks three huge snakes, killed on our way home. Tea and supper were waiting for us. To our greatastonishment we found visitors in the tent. The Patel of the neighboringvillage--something between a tax-collector and a judge--and twozemindars (land owners) rode over to present us their respects and toinvite us and our Hindu friends, some of whom they had known previously, to accompany them to their houses. On hearing that we intended to spendthe night in the "dead town" they grew awfully indignant. They assuredus it was highly dangerous and utterly impossible. Two hours laterhyenas, tigers, and other beasts of prey were sure to come out fromunder every bush and every ruined wall, without mentioning thousandsof jackals and wild cats. Our elephants would not stay, and if they didstay no doubt they would be devoured. We ought to leave the ruins asquickly as possible and go with them to the nearest village, which wouldnot take us more than half an hour. In the village everything had beenprepared for us, and our friend the Babu was already there, and gettingimpatient at our delay. 

Only on hearing this did we become aware that our bareheaded andcautious friend was conspicuous by his absence. Probably he had leftsome time ago, without consulting us, and made straight to the villagewhere he evidently had friends. Sending for us was a mere trick of his. But the evening was so sweet, and we felt so comfortable, that the ideaof upsetting all our plans for the morning was not at all attractive. Besides, it seemed quite ridiculous to think that the ruins, amongstwhich we had wandered several hours without meeting anything moredangerous than a snake, swarmed with wild animals. So we smiled andreturned thanks, but would not accept the invitation. 

"But you positively must not dare to stay here, " insisted the fat Patel. "In case of accident, I shall be responsible for you to the Government. Is it possible you do not dread a sleepless night spent in fightingjackals, if not something worse? You do not believe that you aresurrounded with wild animals. .. .. It is true they are invisible untilsunset, but nevertheless they are dangerous. If you do not believe us, believe the instinct of your elephants, who are as brave as you, but alittle more reasonable. Just look at them!"

We looked. Truly, our grave, philosophic-looking elephants behaved verystrangely at this moment. Their lifted trunks looked like huge points ofinterrogation. They snorted and stamped restively. In another minute oneof them tore the thick rope, with which he was tied to a broken pillar, made a sudden volte-face with all his heavy body, and stood against thewind, sniffing the air. Evidently he perceived some dangerous animal inthe neighborhood. 

The colonel stared at him through his spectacles and whistled verymeaningly. 

"Well, well, " remarked he, "what shall we do if tigers really assaultus?"

"What shall we do indeed?" was my thought. "Takur Gulab-Lal-Sing is nothere to protect us. "

Our Hindu companions sat on the carpet after their oriental fashion, quietly chewing betel. On being asked their opinion, they said theywould not interfere with our decision, and were ready to do exactly aswe liked. But as for the European portion of our party, there was no useconcealing the fact that we were frightened, and we speedily prepared tostart. Five minutes later we mounted the elephants, and, in a quarterof an hour, just when the sun disappeared behind the mountain and heavydarkness instantaneously fell, we passed the gate of Akbar and descendedinto the valley. 

We were hardly a quarter of a mile from our abandoned camping place whenthe cypress grove resounded with shrieking howls of jackals, followedby a well-known mighty roar. There was no longer any possibilityof doubting. The tigers were disappointed at our escape. Theirdiscontentment shook the very air, and cold perspiration stood onour brows. Our elephant sprang forward, upsetting the order of ourprocession and threatening to crush the horses and their riders beforeus. We ourselves, however, were out of danger. We sat in a stronghowdah, locked as in a dungeon. 

"It is useless to deny that we have had a narrow escape!" remarked thecolonel, looking out of the window at some twenty servants of the Patel, who were busily lighting torches. 

Brahmanic Hospitalities

In an hour's time we stopped at the gate of a large bungalow, and werewelcomed by the beaming face of our bareheaded Bengali. When we wereall safely gathered on the verandah, he explained to us that, knowingbeforehand that our "American pigheadedness" would not listen to anywarning, he had dodged up this little scheme of his own and was veryglad he had been successful. 

"Now let us go and wash our hands, and then to supper. And, " he added, addressing me, "was it not your wish to be present at a real Hindu meal?This is your opportunity. Our host is a Brahman, and you are the firstEuropeans who ever entered the part of his house inhabited by thefamily. "----

Who amongst Europeans ever dreamed of a country where every step, andthe least action of everyday life, especially of the family life, iscontrolled by religious rites and cannot be performed except accordingto a certain programme? India is this country. In India all theimportant incidents of a man's life, such as birth, reaching certainperiods of a child's life, marriage, fatherhood, old age and death, as well as all the physical and physiological functions of everydayroutine, like morning ablutions, dressing, eating, et tout ce qui s'ensuit, from a man's first hour to his last sigh, everything must beperformed according to a certain Brahmanical ritual, on penalty ofexpulsion from his caste. The Brahmans may be compared to the musiciansof an orchestra in which the different musical instruments are thenumerous sects of their country. They are all of a different shape andof a different timbre; but still every one of them obeys the same leaderof the band. However widely the sects may differ in the interpretationof their sacred books, however hostile they may be to each other, striving to put forward their particular deity, every one of them, obeying blindly the ancient custom, must follow like musicians the samedirecting wand, the laws of Manu. This is the point where they all meetand form a unanimous, single-minded community, a strongly united mass. And woe to the one who breaks the symphony by a single discordant note!The elders and the caste or sub-caste councils (of these there are anynumber), whose members hold office for life, are stern rulers. There isno appeal against their decisions, and this is why expulsion fromthe caste is a calamity, entailing truly formidable consequences. Theexcommunicated member is worse off than a leper, the solidarity of thecastes in this respect being something phenomenal. The only thing thatcan bear any comparison with it is the solidarity of the disciples ofLoyola. If members of two different castes, united by the sincerestfeelings of respect and friendship, may not intermarry, may not dinetogether, are forbidden to accept a glass of water from each other, orto offer each other a hookah, it becomes clear how much more severe allthese restrictions must be in the case of an excommunicated person. Thepoor wretch must literally die to everybody, to the members of his ownfamily as to strangers. His own household, his father, wife, children, are all bound to turn their faces from him, under the penalty ofbeing excommunicated in their turn. There is no hope for his sons anddaughters of getting married, however innocent they may be of the sin oftheir father. 

From the moment of "excommunication" the Hindu must totally disappear. His mother and wife must not feed him, must not let him drink from thefamily well. No member of any existing caste dares to sell him his foodor cook for him. He must either starve or buy eatables from outcastsand Europeans, and so incur the dangers of further pollution. When theBrahmanical power was at its zenith, such acts as deceiving, robbing andeven killing this wretch were encouraged, as he was beyond the pale ofthe laws. Now, at all events, he is free from the latter danger, butstill, even now, if he happens to die before he is forgiven and receivedback into his caste, his body may not be burned, and no purifyingmantrams will be chanted for him; he will be thrown into the water, orleft to rot under the bushes like a dead cat. 

This is a passive force, and its passiveness only makes it moreformidable. Western education and English influence can do nothingto change it. There exists only one course of action for theexcommunicated; he must show signs of repentance and submit to all kindsof humiliations, often to the total loss of all his worldly possessions. Personally, I know several young Brahmans, who, having brilliantlypassed the university examinations in England, have had to submit to themost repulsive conditions of purification on their return home; thesepurifications consisting chiefly in shaving off half their moustachesand eyebrows, crawling in the dust round pagodas, clinging duringlong hours to the tail of a sacred cow, and, finally, swallowing theexcrements of this cow. The latter ceremony is called "Pancha-Gavya, "literally, the five products of the cow: milk, curds, butter, etc. The voyage over Kalapani, the black water, that is to say the sea, isconsidered the worst of all the sins. A man who commits it is consideredas polluting himself continually, from the first moment of his going onboard the bellati (foreign) ship. 

Only a few days ago a friend of ours, who is an LL. D. , had toundergo this "purgation, " and it nearly cost him his reason. When weremonstrated with him, pointing out that in his case it was simplyfoolish to submit, he being a materialist by conviction and not caringa straw for Brahmanism, he replied that he was bound to do so for thefollowing reasons:

"I have two daughters, " he explained, "one five, the other six yearsold. If I do not find a husband for the eldest of them in the course ofthe coming year, she will grow too old to get married, nobody will thinkof espousing her. Suppose I suffer my caste to excommunicate me, bothmy girls will be dishonored and miserable for the rest of their lives. Then, again, I must take into consideration the superstitions of my oldmother. If such a misfortune befell me, it would simply kill her. .. .. "

But why should he not free himself from every bond to Brahmanism andcaste? Why not join, once for all, the ever-growing community of menwho are guilty of the same offence? Why not ask all his family to form acolony and join the civilization of the Europeans?

All these are very natural questions, but unfortunately there is nodifficulty in finding reasons for answering them in the negative. 

There were thirty-two reasons given why one of Napoleon's marshalsrefused to besiege a certain fortress, but the first of these reasonswas the absence of gunpowder, and so it excluded the necessity ofdiscussing the remaining thirty-one. Similarly the first reason why aHindu cannot be Europeanized is quite sufficient, and does not call forany additional ones. This reason is that by doing so a Hindu wouldnot improve his position. Were he such an adept of science as to rivalTyndall, were he such a clever politician as to eclipse the genius ofDisraeli and Bismarck, as soon as he actually had given up his caste andkinsmen, he would indubitably find himself in the position of Mahomet'scoffin; metaphorically speaking, he would hang half-way between theearth and the sky. 

It would be an utter injustice to suppose that this state of thingsis the result of the policy of the English Government; that the saidGovernment is afraid of giving a chance to natives who may be suspectedof being hostile to the British rule. In reality, the Government haslittle or nothing to do with it. This state of things must be attributedentirely to the social ostracism, to the contempt felt by a "superior"for an "inferior" race, a contempt deeply rooted in some members ofthe Anglo-Indian society and displayed at the least provocation. This question of racial "superiority" and "inferiority" plays amore important part than is generally believed, even in England. Nevertheless, the natives (Mussulmans included) do not deserve contempt, and so the gulf between the rulers and the ruled widens with every year, and long centuries would not suffice to fill it up. 

I have to dwell upon all this to give my readers a clear idea on thesubject. And so it is no wonder the ill-fated Hindus prefertemporary humiliations and the physical and moral sufferings of the"purification, " to the prospect of general contempt until death. Thesewere the questions we discussed with the Brahmans during the two hoursbefore dinner. 

Dining with foreigners and people belonging to different castes is, nodoubt, a dangerous breach of Manu's sacred precepts. But this time, foronce, it was easily explained. First, the stout Patel, our host, wasthe head of his caste, and so was beyond the dread of excommunication;secondly, he had already taken all the prescribed and advisableprecautions against being polluted by our presence. He was afree-thinker in his own way, and a friend of Gulab-Lal-Sing, and sohe rejoiced at the idea of showing us how much skillful sophistry andstrategical circumspection can be used by adroit Brahmans to avoid thelaw in some circumstances, while adhering at the same time to its deadletter. Besides, our good-natured, well-favored host evidently desiredto obtain a diploma from our Society, being well aware that thecollector of his district was enrolled amongst our members. 

These, at any rate, were the explanations of our Babu when we expressedour astonishment; so it was our concern to make the most of ourchance, and to thank Providence for this rare opportunity. And this weaccordingly did. 

Hindus take their food only twice a day, at ten o'clock in the morningand at nine in the evening. Both meals are accompanied by complicatedrites and ceremonies. Even very young children are not allowed to eatat odd times, eating without the prescribed performance of certainexorcisms being considered a sin. Thousands of educated Hindus have longceased to believe in all these superstitious customs, but, nevertheless, they are daily practised. 

Sham Rao Bahunathji, our host, belonged to the ancient caste of PatarahPrabhus, and was very proud of his origin. Prabhu means lord, and thiscaste descends from the Kshatriyas. The first of them was Ashvapati (700B. C. ), a lineal descendant of Rama and Prithu, who, as is stated in thelocal chronology, governed India in the Dvapara and Treta Yugas, whichis a good while ago! The Patarah Prabhus are the only caste within whichBrahmans have to perform certain purely Vedic rites, known under thename of the "Kshatriya rites. " But this does not prevent their beingPatans, instead of Patars, Patan meaning the fallen one. This isthe fault of King Ashvapati. Once, when distributing gifts to holyanchorites, he inadvertently forgot to give his due to the great Bhrigu. The offended prophet and seer declared to him that his reign wasdrawing near its end, and that all his posterity would perish. The king, throwing himself on the ground, implored the prophet's pardon. But hiscurse had worked its fulfilment already. All that he could do tostop the mischief consisted in a solemn promise not to let the king'sdescendants disappear completely from the earth. However, the Patarssoon lost their throne and their power. Since then they have had to"live by their pens, " in the employment of many successive governments, to exchange their name of Patars for Patans, and to lead a humbler lifethan many of their late subjects. Happily for our talkative Amphitryon, his forefathers became Brahmans, that is to say "went through the goldencow. "

The expression "to live by their pens" alludes, as we learned later on, to the fact of the Patans occupying all the small Government posts inthe Bombay Presidency, and so being dangerous rivals of the BengaliBabus since the time of British rule. In Bombay the Patan clerks reachthe considerable figure of five thousand. Their complexion is darkerthan the complexion of Konkan Brahmans, but they are handsomer andbrighter. As to the mysterious expression, "went through the goldencow, " it illustrates a very curious custom. The Kshatriyas, and eventhe much-despised Shudras, may become a sort of left-hand Brahmans. Thismetamorphosis depends on the will of the real Brahmans, who may, if theylike, sell this right for several hundreds or thousands of cows. Whenthe gift is accomplished, a model cow, made of pure gold, is erectedand made sacred by the performance of some mystical ceremonies. Thecandidate must now crawl through her hollow body three times, and thusis transformed into a Brahman. The present Maharaja of Travankor, andeven the great Raja of Benares, who died recently, were both Shudras whoacquired their rights in this manner. We received all this informationand a notion of the legendary Patar chronicle from our obliging host. 

Having announced that we must now get ready for dinner, he disappearedin the company of all the gentlemen of our party. Being left toourselves, Miss X---- and I decided to have a good look at the housewhilst it was empty. The Babu, being a downright, modern Bengali, hadno respect for the religious preparations for dinner, and chose toaccompany us, proposing to explain to us all that we should otherwisefail to understand. 

The Prabhu brothers always live together, but every married couple haveseparate rooms and servants of their own. The habitation of our hostwas very spacious. There were small several bungalows, occupied byhis brothers, and a chief building containing rooms for visitors, thegeneral dining-room, a lying-in ward, a small chapel with any numberof idols, and so on. The ground floor, of course, was surrounded by averandah pierced with arches leading to a huge hall. All round this hallwere wooden pillars adorned with exquisite carving. For some reason orother, it struck me that these pillars once belonged to some palace ofthe "dead town. " On close examination I only grew more convinced thatI was right. Their style bore no traces of Hindu taste; no gods, nofabulous monster animals, only arabesques and elegant leaves and flowersof nonexistent plants. The pillars stood very close to each other, butthe carvings prevented them from forming an uninterrupted wall, so thatthe ventilation was a little too strong. All the time we spent at thedinner table miniature hurricanes whistled from behind every pillar, waking up all our old rheumatisms and toothaches, which had peacefullyslumbered since our arrival in India. 

The front of the house was thickly covered with iron horseshoes--thebest precaution against evil spirits and evil eyes. 

At the foot of a broad, carved staircase we came across a couch or acradle, hung from the ceiling by iron chains. I saw somebody lying onit, whom, at first sight, I mistook for a sleeping Hindu, and was goingto retreat discreetly, but, recognizing my old friend Hanuman, I grewbold and endeavored to examine him. Alas! the poor idol possessed only ahead and neck, the rest of his body was a heap of old rags. 

On the left side of the verandah there were many more lateral rooms, each with a special destination, some of which I have mentioned already. The largest of these rooms was called "vattan, " and was used exclusivelyby the fair sex. Brahman women are not bound to spend their livesunder veils, like Mussulman women, but still they have very littlecommunication with men, and keep aloof. Women cook the men's food, butdo not dine with them. The elder ladies of the family are often held ingreat respect, and husbands sometimes show a shy courteousness towardstheir wives, but still a woman has no right to speak to her husbandbefore strangers, nor even before the nearest relations, such as hersisters and her mother. 

As to the Hindu widows, they really are the most wretched creatures inthe whole world. As soon as a woman's husband dies she must have herhair and her eyebrows shaven off. She must part with all her trinkets, her earrings, her nose jewels, her bangles and toe-rings. After this isdone she is as good as dead. The lowest outcast would not marry her. Aman is polluted by her slightest touch, and must immediately proceed topurify himself. The dirtiest work of the household is her duty, and shemust not eat with the married women and the children. The "sati, " theburning of the widows, is abolished, but Brahmans are clever managers, and the widows often long for the sati. 

At last, having examined the family chapel, full of idols, flowers, richvases with burning incense, lamps hanging from its ceiling, and aromaticherbs covering its floor, we decided to get ready for dinner. Wecarefully washed ourselves, but this was not enough, we were requestedto take off our shoes. This was a somewhat disagreeable surprise, but areal Brahmanical supper was worth the trouble. 

However, a truly amazing surprise was still in store for us. 

On entering the dining-room we stopped short at the entrance--both ourEuropean companions were dressed, or rather undressed, exactly likeHindus! For the sake of decency they kept on a kind of sleevelessknitted vest, but they were barefooted, wore the snow-white Hindu dhutis(a piece of muslin wrapped round to the waist and forming a petticoat), and looked like something between white Hindus and Constantinoplegarcons de bains. Both were indescribably funny, I never saw anythingfunnier. To the great discomfiture of the men, and the scandal of thegrave ladies of the house, I could not restrain myself, but burst outlaughing. Miss X----blushed violently and followed my example. 

A quarter of an hour before the evening meal every Hindu, old or young, has to perform a "puja" before the gods. He does not change his clothes, as we do in Europe, but takes off the few things he wore during the day. He bathes by the family well and loosens his hair, of which, if he isa Mahratti or an inhabitant of the Dekkan, he has only one long lock atthe top of his shaven head. To cover the body and the head whilst eatingwould be sinful. Wrapping his waist and legs in a white silk dhuti, he goes once more to salute the idols and then sits down to hismeal. ----

But here I shall allow myself to digress. "Silk possesses the propertyof dismissing the evil spirits who inhabit the magnetic fluids of theatmosphere, " says the Mantram, book v. , verse 23. And I cannot helpwondering whether this apparent superstition may not contain a deepermeaning. It is difficult, I own, to part with our favorite theoriesabout all the customs of ancient heathendom being mere ignorantsuperstitions. But have not some vague notions of these customs beingfounded originally on a true knowledge of scientific principles foundtheir way amongst European scientific circles? At first sight the ideaseems untenable. But why may we not suppose that the ancients prescribedthis observance in the full knowledge that the effect of electricityupon the organs of digestion is truly beneficial? People who havestudied the ancient philosophy of India with a firm resolve to penetratethe hidden meaning of its aphorisms have for the most part grownconvinced that electricity and its effects were known to a considerableextent to some philosophers, as, for instance, to Patanjali. Charaka andSushruta had pro-pounded the system of Hippocrates long before the timeof him who in Europe is supposed to be the "father of medicine. " TheBhadrinath temple of Vishnu possesses a stone bearing evident proof ofthe fact that Surya-Sidhanta knew and calculated the expansive force ofsteam many centuries ago. The ancient Hindus were the first to determinethe velocity of light and the laws of its reflection; and the table ofPythagoras and his celebrated theorem of the square of hypotenuse are tobe found in the ancient books of Jyotisha. All this leads us to supposethat ancient Aryans, when instituting the strange custom of wearingsilk during meals, had something serious in view, more serious, at allevents, than the "dismissing of demons. "

Having entered the "refectory, " we immediately noticed what were theHindu precautions against their being polluted by our presence. Thestone floor of the hall was divided into two equal parts. This divisionconsisted of a line traced in chalk, with Kabalistic signs at eitherend. One part was destined for the host's party and the guests belongingto the same caste, the other for ourselves. On our side of the hallthere was yet a third square to contain Hindus of a different caste. Thefurniture of the two bigger squares was exactly similar. Along the twoopposite walls there were narrow carpets spread on the floor, coveredwith cushions and low stools. Before every occupant there was an oblongon the bare floor, traced also with chalk, and divided, like a chessboard, into small quadrangles which were destined for dishes and plates. Both the latter articles were made of the thick strong leaves of thebutea frondosa: larger dishes of several leaves pinned together withthorns, plates and saucers of one leaf with its borders turned up. All the courses of the supper were already arranged on each square; wecounted forty-eight dishes, containing about a mouthful of forty-eightdifferent dainties. The materials of which they were composed weremostly terra incognita to us, but some of them tasted very nice. Allthis was vegetarian food. Of meat, fowl, eggs and fish there appeared notraces. There were chutneys, fruit and vegetables preserved in vinegarand honey, panchamrits, a mixture of pampello-berries, tamarinds, cocoamilk, treacle and olive oil, and kushmer, made of radishes, honey andflour; there were also burning hot pickles and spices. All this wascrowned with a mountain of exquisitely cooked rice and another mountainof chapatis, which are something like brown pancakes. The dishes stoodin four rows, each row containing twelve dishes; and between the rowsburned three aromatic sticks of the size of a small church taper. Our part of the hall was brightly lit with green and red candles. Thechandeliers which held these candles were of a very queer shape. Theyeach represented the trunk of a tree with a seven-headed cobra woundround it. From each of the seven mouths rose a red or a green wax candleof spiral form like a corkscrew. Draughts blowing from behind everypillar fluttered the yellow flames, filling the roomy refectory withfantastic moving shadows, and causing both our lightly-clad gentlemento sneeze very frequently. Leaving the dark silhouettes of the Hindusin comparative obscurity, this unsteady light made the two white figuresstill more conspicuous, as if making a masquerade of them and laughingat them. 

The relatives and friends of our host came in one after the other. Theywere all naked down to the waist, all barefooted, all wore the tripleBrahmanical thread and white silk dhutis, and their hair hung loose. Every sahib was followed by his own servant, who carried his cup, hissilver, or even gold, jug filled with water, and his towel. All of them, having saluted the host, greeted us, the palms of their hands pressedtogether and touching their foreheads, their breasts, and then thefloor. They all said to us: "Ram-Ram" and "Namaste" (salutation tothee), and then made straight for their respective seats in perfectsilence. Their civilities reminded me that the custom of greeting eachother with the twice pronounced name of some ancestor was usual in theremotest antiquity. 

We all sat down, the Hindus calm and stately, as if preparing for somemystic celebration, we ourselves feeling awkward and uneasy, fearing toprove guilty of some unpardonable blunder. An invisible choir of women'svoices chanted a monotonous hymn, celebrating the glory of the gods. These were half a dozen nautch-girls from a neighboring pagoda. To thisaccompaniment we began satisfying our appetites. Thanks to the Babu'sinstructions, we took great care to eat only with our right hands. Thiswas somewhat difficult, because we were hungry and hasty, but quitenecessary. Had we only so much as touched the rice with our left handswhole hosts of Rakshasas (demons) would have been attracted to take partin the festivity that very moment; which, of course, would send all theHindus out of the room. It is hardly necessary to say that there were notraces of forks, knives or spoons. That I might run no risk ofbreaking the rule I put my left hand in my pocket and held on to mypocket-handkerchief all the time the dinner lasted. 

The singing lasted only a few minutes. During the rest of the time adead silence reigned amongst us. It was Monday, a fast day, and sothe usual absence of noise at meal times had to be observed still morestrictly than on any other day. Usually a man who is compelled to breakthe silence by some emergency or other hastens to plunge into waterthe middle finger of his left hand, which till then had remained hiddenbehind his back, and to moisten both his eyelids with it. But a reallypious man would not be content with this simple formula of purification;having spoken, he must leave the dining-room, wash thoroughly, and thenabstain from food for the remainder of the day. 

Thanks to this solemn silence, I was at liberty to notice everythingthat was going on with great attention. Now and again, whenever I caughtsight of the colonel or Mr. Y----, I had all the difficulty in the worldto preserve my gravity. Fits of foolish laughter would take possessionof me when I observed them sitting erect with such comical solemnity andworking so awkwardly with their elbows and hands. The long beard of theone was white with grains of rice, as if silvered with hoar-frost, the chin of the other was yellow with liquid saffron. But unsatisfiedcuriosity happily came to my rescue, and I went on watching the quaintproceedings of the Hindus. 

Each of them, having sat down with his legs twisted under him, pouredsome water with his left hand out of the jug brought by the servant, first into his cup, then into the palm of his right hand. Then heslowly and carefully sprinkled the water round a dish with all kindsof dainties, which stood by itself, and was destined, as we learnedafterwards, for the gods. During this procedure each Hindu repeated aVedic mantram. Filling his right hand with rice, he pronounced a newseries of couplets, then, having stored five pinches of rice on theright side of his own plate, he once more washed his hands to avert theevil eye, sprinkled more water, and pouring a few drops of it into hisright palm, slowly drank it. After this he swallowed six pinches ofrice, one after the other, murmuring prayers all the while, and wettedboth his eyes with the middle finger of his left hand. All this done, he finally hid his left hand behind his back, and began eating with theright hand. All this took only a few minutes, but was performed verysolemnly. 

The Hindus ate with their bodies bent over the food, throwing it up andcatching it in their mouths so dexterously that not a grain of ricewas lost, not a drop of the various liquids spilt. Zealous to showhis consideration for his host, the colonel tried to imitate all thesemovements. He contrived to bend over his food almost horizontally, but, alas! he could not remain long in this position. The natural weight ofhis powerful limbs overcame him, he lost his balance and nearly tumbledhead foremost, dropping his spectacles into a dish of sour milk andgarlic. After this unsuccessful experience the brave American gave upall further attempts to become "Hinduized, " and sat very quietly. 

The supper was concluded with rice mixed with sugar, powdered peas, olive oil, garlic and grains of pomegranate, as usual. This lastdainty is consumed hurriedly. Everyone nervously glances askance at hisneighbor, and is mortally afraid of being the last to finish, becausethis is considered a very bad sign. To conclude, they all take somewater into their mouths, murmuring prayers the while, and this time theymust swallow it in one gulp. Woe to the one who chokes! 'Tis a clearsign that a bhuta has taken possession of his throat. The unfortunateman must run for his life and get purified before the altar. 

The poor Hindus are very much troubled by these wicked bhutas, thesouls of the people who have died with ungratified desires and earthlypassions. Hindu spirits, if I am to believe the unanimous assertionsof one and all, are always swarming round the living, always ready tosatisfy their hunger with other people's mouths and gratify their impuredesires with the help of organs temporarily stolen from the living. Theyare feared and cursed all over India. No means to get rid of themare despised. The notions and conclusions of the Hindus on thispoint categorically contradict the aspirations and hopes of Westernspiritualists. 

"A good and pure spirit, they are confident, will not let his soulrevisit the earth, if this soul is equally pure. He is glad to die andunite himself to Brahma, to live an eternal life in Svarga (heaven) andenjoy the society of the beautiful Gandharvas or singing angels. He isglad to slumber whole eternities, listening to their songs, whilst hissoul is purified by a new incarnation in a body, which is more perfectthan the one the soul abandoned previously. "

The Hindus believe that the spirit or Atma, a particle of the GREATALL, which is Parabrahm, cannot be punished for sins in which it neverparticipated. It is Manas, the animal intelligence, and the animalsoul or Jiva, both half material illusions, that sin and suffer andtransmigrate from one body into the other till they purify themselves. The spirit merely overshadows their earthly transmigrations. When theEgo has reached the final state of purity, it will be one with the Atma, and gradually will merge and disappear in Parabrahm. 

But this is not what awaits the wicked souls. The soul that does notsucceed in getting rid of earthly cares and desires before the death ofthe body is weighed down by its sins, and, instead of reincarnating insome new form, according to the laws of metempsychosis, it will remainbodiless, doomed to wander on earth. It will become a bhuta, and by itsown sufferings will cause unutterable sufferings to its kinsmen. That iswhy the Hindu fears above all things to remain bodiless after his death. 

"It is better for one to enter the body of a tiger, of a dog, even of ayellow-legged falcon, after death, than to become a bhuta!" an old Hindusaid to me on one occasion. "Every animal possesses a body of his ownand a right to make an honest use of it. Whereas the bhutas are doomeddakoits, brigands and thieves, they are ever watching for an opportunityto use what does not belong to them. This is a horrible state--a horrorindescribable. This is the true hell. What is this spiritualism theytalk so much of in the West? Is it possible the intelligent English andAmericans are so mad as this?"

And all our remonstrances notwithstanding, he refused to believe thatthere are actually people who are fond of bhutas, who would do much toattract them into their homes. 

After supper the men went again to the family well to wash, and thendressed themselves. 

Usually at this hour of the night the Hindus put on clean malmalas, a kind of tight shirt, white turbans, and wooden sandals with knobspressed between the toes. These curious shoes are left at the doorwhilst their owners return to the hall and sit down along the wallson carpets and cushions to chew betel, smoke hookahs and cheroots, tolisten to sacred reading, and to witness the dances of the nautches. But this evening, probably in our honor, all the Hindus dressedmagnificently. Some of them wore darias of rich striped satin, no end ofgold bangles, necklaces mounted with diamonds and emeralds, gold watchesand chains, and transparent Brahmanical scarfs with gold embroidery. The fat fingers and the right ear of our host were simply blazing withdiamonds. 

The women, who waited on us during the meal, disappeared afterwardsfor a considerable time. When they came back they also were luxuriouslyoverdressed and were introduced to us formally as the ladies of thehouse. They were five: the wife of the host, a woman of twenty-six ortwenty-seven years of age, then two others looking somewhat younger, oneof whom carried a baby, and, to our great astonishment, was introducedas the married daughter of the hostess; then the old mother of the hostand a little girl of seven, the wife of one of his brothers. So that ourhostess turned out to be a grandmother, and her sister-in-law, who wasto enter finally into matrimony in from two to three years, might havebecome a mother before she was twelve. They were all barefooted, withrings on each of their toes, and all, with the exception of the oldwoman, wore garlands of natural flowers round their necks and in theirjet black hair. Their tight bodices, covered with embroidery, were soshort that between them and the sari there was a good quarter of a yardof bare skin. The dark, bronze-coloured waists of these well-shapedWomen were boldly presented to any one's examination and reflected thelights of the room. Their beautiful arms and their ankles were coveredwith bracelets. At the least of their movements they all set up atinkling silvery sound, and the little sister-in-law, who might easilybe mistaken for an automaton doll, could hardly move under her load ofornaments. The young grandmother, our hostess, had a ring in her leftnostril, which reached to the lower part of the chin. Her nose wasconsiderably disfigured by the weight of the gold, and we noticed howunusually handsome she was only when she took it off to enable herselfto drink her tea with some comfort. 

The dances of the nautch girls began. Two of them were very pretty. Their dancing consisted chiefly in more or less expressive movementsof their eyes, their heads, and even their ears, in fact, of the wholeupper part of their bodies. As to their legs, they either did not moveat all or moved with such a swiftness as to appear in a cloud of mist. 

After this eventful day I slept the sleep of the just. 

After many nights spent in a tent, it is more than agreeable to sleep ina regular bed, even if it is only a hanging one. The pleasure would, nodoubt, have been considerably increased had I but known I was resting onthe couch of a god. But this latter circumstance was revealed to me onlyin the morning, when descending the staircase I suddenly discoveredthe poor general en chef, Hanuman, deprived of his cradle andunceremoniously stowed away under the stairs. Decidedly, the Hindus ofthe nineteenth century are a degenerate and blaspheming race!

In the course of the morning we learned that this swinging throne ofhis, and an ancient sofa, were the only pieces of furniture in the wholehouse that could be transformed into beds. 

Neither of our gentlemen had spent a comfortable night. They slept in anempty tower that was once the altar of a decayed pagoda and was situatedbehind the main building. In assigning to them this strange restingplace, the host was guided by the praiseworthy intention of protectingthem from the jackals, which freely penetrate into all the rooms of theground floor, as they are pierced by numberless arches and have nodoor and no window frames. The jackals, however, did not trouble thegentlemen much that night, except by giving their nightly concert. Butboth Mr. Y---- and the colonel had to fight all the night long with avampire, which, besides being a flying fox of an unusual size, happenedto be a spirit, as we learned too late, to our great misfortune. 

This is how it happened. Noiselessly hovering about the tower, thevampire from time to time alighted on the sleepers, making them shudderunder the disgusting touch of his cold sticky wings. His intentionclearly was to get a nice suck of European blood. They were wakened byhis manipulations at least ten times, and each time frightened him away. But, as soon as they were dozing again, the wretched bat was sure toreturn and perch on their shoulders, heads, or legs. At last Mr. Y----, losing patience, had recourse to strong measures; he caught him andbroke his neck. 

Feeling perfectly innocent, the gentlemen mentioned the tragic end ofthe troublesome flying fox to their host, and instantly drew down ontheir heads all the thunder-clouds of heaven. 

The yard was crowded with people. All the inhabitants of the house stoodsorrowfully drooping their heads, at the entrance of the tower. Ourhost's old mother tore her hair in despair, and shrieked lamentations inall the languages of India. What was the matter with them all? We wereat our wits' end. But when we learned the cause of all this, there wasno limit to our confusion. 

By certain mysterious signs, known only to the family Brahman, it hadbeen decided ten years ago that the soul of our host's elder brother hadincarnated in this blood-thirsty vampire-bat. This fact was stated asbeing beyond any doubt. For nine years the late Patarah Prabhu existedunder this new shape, carrying out the laws of metempsychosis. He spentthe hours between sunrise and the sunset in an old pipal-tree before thetower, hanging with his head downwards. But at night he visited theold tower and gave fierce chase to the insects that sought rest inthis out-of-the-way corner. And so nine years were spent in this happyexistence, divided between sleep, food, and the gradual redemption ofold sins committed in the shape of a Patarah Prabhu. And now? Now hislistless body lay in the dust at the entrance of his favorite tower, and his wings were half devoured by the rats. The poor old woman, hismother, was mad with sorrow, and cast, through her tears, reproachful, angry looks at Mr. Y----, who, in his new capacity of a heartlessmurderer, looked disgustingly composed. 

But the affair was growing serious. The comical side of it disappearedbefore the sincerity and the intensity of her lamentations. Herdescendants, grouped around her, were too polite to reproach us openly, but the expression of their faces was far from reassuring. The familypriest and astrologer stood by the old lady, Shastras in hand, ready tobegin the ceremony of purification. He solemnly covered the corpse witha piece of new linen, and so hid from our eyes the sad remains on whichants were literally swarming. 

Mr. Y---- did his best to look unconcerned, but still, when the tactlessMiss X---- came to him, expressing her loud indignation at all thesesuperstitions of an inferior race, he at least seemed to remember thatour host knew English perfectly, and he did not encourage her fartherexpressions of sympathy. He made no answer, but smiled contemptuously. Our host approached the colonel with respectful salaams and invited usto follow him. 

"No doubt he is going to ask us to leave his house immediately!" was myuncomfortable impression. 

But my apprehension was not justified. At this epoch of my Indianpilgrimage I was far, as yet, from having fathomed the metaphysicaldepth of a Hindu heart. 

Sham Rao began by delivering a very far-fetched, eloquent preface. He reminded us that he, personally, was an enlightened man, a man whopossessed all the advantages of a Western education. He said that, owingto this, he was not quite sure that the body of the vampire was actuallyinhabited by his late brother. Darwin, of course, and some other greatnaturalists of the West, seemed to believe in the transmigration ofsouls, but, as far as he understood, they believed in it in an inversesense; that is to say, if a baby had been born to his mother exactly atthe moment of the vampire's death, this baby would indubitably havehad a great likeness to a vampire, owing to the decaying atoms of thevampire being so close to her. 

"Is not this an exact interpretation of the Darwinian school?" he asked. 

We modestly answered that, having traveled almost incessantly during thelast year, we could not help being a bit behindhand in the questionsof modern science, and that we were not able to follow its latestconclusions. 

"But I have followed them!" rejoined the good-natured Sham Rao, with atouch of pomposity. "And so I hope I may be allowed to say that I haveunderstood and duly appreciated their most recent developments. I havejust finished studying the magnificent Anthropogenesis of Haeckel, and have carefully discussed in my own mind his logical, scientificexplanations of the origin of man from inferior animal forms throughtransformation. And what is this transformation, pray, if not thetransmigration of the ancient and modern Hindus, and the metempsychosisof the Greeks?"

We had nothing to say against the identity, and even ventured to observethat, according to Haeckel, it does look like it. 

"Exactly!" exclaimed he joyfully. "This shows that our conceptions areneither silly nor superstitious, as is maintained by some opponentsof Manu. The great Manu, anticipated Darwin and Haeckel. Judge foryourself; the latter derives the genesis of man from a group ofplastides, from the jelly-like moneron; this moneron, through theameoba, the ascidian, the brainless and heartless amphioxus, and so on, transmigrates in the eighth remove into the lamprey, is transformed, atlast, into a vertebrate amniote, into a premammalian, into a marsupialanimal. .. . The vampire, in its turn, belongs to the species ofvertebrates. You, being well read people all of you, cannot contradictthis statement. " He was right in his supposition; we did not contradictit. 

"In this case, do me the honor to follow my argument. .. . "

We did follow his argument with the greatest attention, but were at aloss to foresee whither it tended to lead us. 

"Darwin, " continued Sham Rao, "in his Origin of Species, re-establishedalmost word for word the palin-genetic teachings of our Manu. Of this Iam perfectly convinced, and, if you like, I can prove it to you book inhand. Our ancient law-giver, amongst other sayings, speaks as follows:'The great Parabrahm commanded man to appear in the universe, aftertraversing all the grades of the animal kingdom, and springing primarilyfrom the worm of the deep sea mud. ' The worm be-came a snake, the snakea fish, the fish a mammal, and so on. Is not this very idea at thebottom of Darwin's theory, when he maintains that the organic forms havetheir origin in more simple species, and says that the structurelessprotoplasm born in the mud of the Laurentian and Silurian periods--theManu's 'mud of the seas, ' I dare say--gradually transformed itself intothe anthropoid ape, and then finally into the human being?"

We said it looked very like it. 

"But, in spite of all my respect for Darwin and his eminent followerHaeckel, I cannot agree with their final conclusions, especially withthe conclusions of the latter, " continued Sham Rao. "This hasty andbilious German is perfectly accurate in copying the embryology of Manuand all the metamorphoses of our ancestors, but he forgets the evolutionof the human soul, which, as it is stated by Manu, goes hand in handwith the evolution of matter. The son of Swayambhuva, the Self Becoming, speaks as follows: 'Everything created in a new cycle, in addition tothe qualities of its preceding transmigrations, acquires new qualities, and the nearer it approaches to man, the highest type of the earth, thebrighter becomes its divine spark; but, once it has become a Brahma, itwill enter the cycle of conscious transmigrations. ' Do you realize whatthat means? It means that from this moment, its transformations dependno longer on the blind laws of gradual evolution, but on the least of aman's actions, which brings either a reward or a punishment. Now yousee that it depends on the man's will whether, on the one hand, he willstart on the way to Moksha, the eternal bliss, passing from one Loka toanother till he reaches Brahmaloka, or, on the other, owing to his sins, will be thrown back. You know that the average soul, once freed fromearthly reincarnations, has to ascend from one Loka to another, alwaysin the human shape, though this shape will grow and perfect itself withevery Loka. Some of our sects understood these Lokas to mean certainstars. These spirits, freed from earthly matter, are what we mean byPitris and Devas, whom we worship. And did not your Kabalists of themiddle ages designate these Pitris under the expression PlanetarySpirits? But, in the case of a very sinful man, he will have tobegin once more with the animal forms which he had already traversedunconsciously. Both Darwin and Haeckel lose sight of this, so to speak, second volume of their incomplete theory, but still neither of themadvances any argument to prove it false. Is it not so?"

"Neither of them does anything of the sort, most assuredly. "

"Why, in this case, " exclaimed he, suddenly changing his colloquial tonefor an aggressive one, "why am I, I who have studied the most modernideas of Western science, I who believe in its representatives--why am Isuspected, pray, by Miss X---- of belonging to the tribe of theignorant and superstitious Hindus? Why does she think that our perfectedscientific theories are superstitions, and we ourselves a falleninferior race?"

Sham Rao stood before us with tears in his eyes. We were at a loss whatto answer him, being confused to the last degree by this outburst. 

"Mind you, I do not proclaim our popular beliefs to be infallibledogmas. I consider them as mere theories, and try to the best of myability to reconcile the ancient and the modern science. I formulatehypotheses just like Darwin and Haeckel. Besides, if I understoodrightly, Miss X---- is a spiritualist, so she believes in bhutas. And, believing that a bhuta is capable of penetrating the body of a medium, how can she deny that a bhuta, and more so a less sinful soul, may enterthe body of a vampire-bat?"

I own, this logic was a little too condensed for us, and so, avoiding adirect answer to a metaphysical question of such delicacy, we tried toapologize and excuse Miss X----'s rudeness as well as we could. 

"She did not mean to offend you, " we said, "she only repeated a calumny, familiar to every European. Besides, if she had taken the trouble tothink it over, she probably would not have said it. .. . "

Little by little we succeeded in pacifying our host. He recovered hisusual cheerfulness, but could not resist the temptation of adding afew words to his long argumentation. He had just begun to reveal to uscertain peculiarities of his late brother's character, which induced himto be prepared, judging by the laws of atavism, to see their repetitionin the propensities of a vampire bat, when Mr. Y----suddenly dashed inon our small group and spoiled all the results of our conciliatory wordsby screaming at the top of his voice: "The old woman has gone demented!She keeps on cursing us and says that the murder of this wretched batis only the forerunner of a whole series of misfortunes brought on herhouse by you, Sham Rao, " said he, hastily addressing the bewilderedfollower of Haackel. "She says you have polluted your Brahmanicalholiness by inviting us. Colonel, you had better send for the elephants. In another moment all this crowd will be on us. .. "

"For goodness' sake!" exclaimed poor Sham Rao, "have some considerationfor my feelings. She is an old woman, she has some superstitions, butshe is my mother. You are educated people, learned people. .. Advise me, show me a way out of all these difficulties. What should you do in myplace?"

"What should I do, sir?" exclaimed Mr. Y----, completely put out oftemper by the utter ludicrousness of our awkward predicament. "Whatshould I do? Were I a man in your position and a believer in all youare brought up to believe, I should take my revolver, and in the firstplace, shoot all the vampire bats in the neighborhood, if only to ridall your late relations from the abject bodies of these creatures, and, in the second place, I should endeavor to smash the head of theconceited fraud in the shape of a Brahman who invented all this stupidstory. That is what I should do, sir!"

But this advice did not content the miserable descendant of Rama. Nodoubt he would have remained a long time undecided as to what courseof action to adopt, torn as he was between the sacred feelings ofhospitality, the innate fear of the Brahman-priest, and his ownsuperstitions, if our ingenious Babu had not come to our rescue. Learning that we all felt more or less indignant at all this row, andthat we were preparing to leave the house as quickly as possible, he persuaded us to stay, if only for an hour, saying that our hastydeparture would be a terrible outrage upon our host, whom, in any case, we could not find fault with. As to the stupid old woman, the Babupromised us to pacify her speedily enough: he had his own plans andviews. In the meantime, he said, we had better go and examine the ruinsof an old fortress close by. 

We obeyed very reluctantly, feeling an acute interest in his "plans. " Weproceeded slowly. Our gentlemen were visibly out of temper. Miss X----tried to calm herself by talking more than usual, and Narayan, asphlegmatic as usual, indolently and good-naturedly chaffed her abouther beloved "spirits. " Glancing back we saw the Babu accompanied by thefamily priest. Judging by their gestures they were engaged in some warmdiscussion. The shaven head of the Brahman nodded right and left, hisyellow garment flapped in the wind, and his arms rose towards the sky, as if in an appeal to the gods to come down and testify to the truth ofhis words. 

"I'll bet you a thousand dollars, no plans of our Babu's will be of anyavail with this fanatic!" confidently remarked the colonel as he lit hispipe. 

But we had hardly walked a hundred steps after this remark when we sawthe Babu running after us and signaling us to stop. 

"Everything ended first-rate!" screamed he, as soon as we could hear. "You are to be thanked. .. You happen to be the true saviours andbenefactors of the deceased bhuta. .. You. .. "

Our Babu sank on the ground holding his narrow, panting breast with bothhis hands, and laughed, laughed till we all burst into laughter too, before learning any-thing at all. 

"Think of it, " began the Babu, and stopped short, prevented from goingon by his exuberant hilarity. "Just think of it! The whole transactionis to cost me only ten rupees. .. . I offered five at first. .. But hewould not. .. . He said this was a sacred matter. .. .. But ten he could notresist! Ho, ho, ho. .. . "

At last we learned the story. All the metempsychoses depend on theimagination of the family Gurus, who receive for their kind officesfrom one hundred to one hundred and fifty rupees a year. Every rite isaccompanied by a more or less considerable addition to the purse of theinsatiable family Brahman, but the happy events pay better than thesad ones. Knowing all this, the Babu asked the Brahman point-blank toperform a false samadhi, that is to say, to feign an inspiration andto announce to the sorrowing mother that her late son's will had actedconsciously in all the circumstances; that he brought about his endin the body of the flying fox, that he was tired of that grade oftransmigration, that he longed for death in order to attain a higherposition in the animal kingdom, that he is happy, and that he is deeplyindebted to the sahib who broke his neck and so freed him from hisabject embodiment. 

Besides, the observant eye of our all-knowing Babu had not failed toremark that a she-buffalo of the Guru's was expecting a calf, and thatthe Guru was yearning to sell it to Sham Rao. This circumstance wasa trump card in the Babu's hand. Let the Guru announce, under theinfluence of samadhi, that the freed spirit intends to inhabit the bodyof the future baby-buffalo and the old lady will buy the new incarnationof her first-born as sure as the sun is bright. This announcement willbe followed by rejoicings and by new rites. And who will profit by allthis if not the family priest?

At first the Guru had some misgivings, and swore by everything sacredthat the vampire bat was veritably inhabited by the brother of ShamRao. But the Babu knew better than to give in. The Guru ended byunderstanding that his skillful opponent saw through his tricks, andthat he was well aware that the Shastras exclude the possibility of sucha transmigration. Growing alarmed, the Guru also grew meek, and askedonly ten rupees and a promise of silence for the performance of asamadhi. 

On our way back we were met at the gate by Sham Rao, who was simplyradiant. Whether he was afraid of our laughing at him, or was at loss tofind an explanation of this new metamorphosis in the positive sciencesin general, and Haeckel in particular, he did not attempt to explain whythe affair had taken such an unexpectedly good turn. He merelymentioned awkwardly enough that his mother, owing to some new mysteriousconjectures of hers, had dismissed all sad apprehensions as tothe destiny of her elder son, and he then dropped the subjectcompletely. ----

In order to wipe away the traces of the morning's perplexities from ourminds, Sham Rao invited us to sit on the verandah, by the wide entranceof his idol room, whilst the family prayers were going on. Nothingcould suit us better. It was nine o'clock, the usual time of the morningprayers. Sham Rao went to the well to get ready, and dress himself, ashe said, though the process was more like undressing. In a few momentshe came back wearing only a dhuti, as during dinner time, and with hishead uncovered. He went straight to his idol room. The moment he enteredwe heard the loud stroke of a bell that hung under the ceiling, and thatcontinued tolling all the time the prayers lasted. 

The Babu explained to us that a little boy was pulling the bell ropefrom the roof. 

Sham Rao stepped in with his right foot and very slowly. Then heapproached the altar and sat on a little stool with his legs crossed. At the opposite side of the room, on the red velvet shelves of an altarthat resembled an etagere in the drawing-room of some fashionable lady, stood many idols. They were made of gold, of silver, of brass and ofmarble, according to their im-portance and merits. Maha-Deva or Shivawas of gold. Gunpati or Ganesha of silver, Vishnu in the form of a roundblack stone from the river Gandaki in Nepal. In this form Vishnu iscalled Lakshmi-Narayan. There were also many other gods unknown to us, who were worshipped in the shapes of big sea-shells, called Chakra. Surya, the god of the sun, and the kula-devas, the domestic gods, wereplaced in the second rank. The altar was sheltered by a cupola of carvedsandal-wood. During the night the gods and the offerings were coveredby a huge bell glass. On the walls there were many sacred imagesrepresenting the chief episodes in the biographies of the higher gods. 

Sham Rao filled his left hand with ashes, murmuring prayers all thewhile, covered it for a second with the right one, then put some matterto the ashes, and mixing the two by rubbing his hands together, hetraced a line on his face with this mixture by moving the thumb of hisright hand from his nose upwards, then from the middle of the foreheadto the right temple, then back again to the left temple. Having donewith his face he proceeded to cover with wet ashes his throat, arms, shoulders, his back, head and ears. In one corner of the room stood ahuge bronze font filled with water. Sham Rao made straight to it andplunged into it three times, dhuti, head, and all, after which he cameout looking exactly like a well-favored dripping wet Triton. He twistedthe only lock of hair on the top of his shaved head and sprinkled itwith water. This operation concluded the first act. 

The second act began with religious meditations and with mantrams, which, by really pious people, must be repeated three times a day--atsunrise, at noon and at sunset. Sham Rao loudly pronounced the names oftwenty-four gods, and each name was accompanied by a stroke of the bell. Having finished he first shut his eyes and stuffed his ears with cotton, then pressed his left nostril with two fingers of his left hand, andhaving filled his lungs with air through the right nostril, pressed thelatter also. Then he tightly closed his lips, so that breathing becameimpossible. In this position every pious Hindu must mentally repeat acertain verse, which is called the Gayatri. These are sacred words whichno Hindu will dare to pronounce aloud. Even in repeating them mentallyhe must take every precaution not to inhale anything impure. 

I am bound by my word of honor never to repeat the whole of this prayer, but I may quote a few unconnected sentences:

"Om. .. Earth. .. Heaven. .. . Let the adored light of. .. . [here follows aname which must not be pronounced] shelter me. Let thy Sun, O thou onlyOne, shelter me, the unworthy. .. I shut my eyes, I shut my ears, I donot breathe. .. In order to see, hear and breathe thee alone. Throw lightupon our thoughts [again the secret name]. .. "

It is curious to compare this Hindu prayer with the celebrated prayerof Descartes' "Meditation III" in his L'Existence de Dieu. It runs asfollows, if I remember rightly:

"Now I shut my eyes, cover my ears, and dismiss all my five senses, Iwill dwell on the thought of God alone, I will meditate on His qualityand look on the beauty of this wondrous radiancy. "

After this prayer Sham Rao read many other prayers, holding with twofingers his sacred Brahmanical thread. After a while began the ceremonyof "the washing of the gods. " Taking them down from the altar, one afterthe other, according to their rank, Sham Rao first plunged them in thebig font, in which he had just bathed himself, and then bathed them inmilk in a smaller bronze font by the altar. The milk was mixed up withcurds, butter, honey, and sugar, and so it cannot be said that thiscleansing served its purpose. No wonder we were glad to see that thegods underwent a second bathing in the first font and then were driedwith a clean towel. 

When the gods were arranged in their respective places, the Hindu tracedon them the sectarian signs with a ring from his left hand. He usedwhite sandal paint for the lingam and red for Gunpati and Surya. Then hesprinkled them with aromatic oils and covered them with fresh flowers. The long ceremony was finished by "the awakening of the gods. " A smallbell was repeatedly rung under the noses of the idols, who, as theBrahman probably supposed, all went to sleep during this tediousceremony. 

Having noticed, or fancied, which often amounts to the same thing, that they were wide awake, he began offering them his daily sacrifices, lighting the incense and the lamps, and, to our great astonishment, snapping his fingers from time to time, as if warning the idols to "lookout. " Having filled the room with clouds of incense and fumes of burningcamphor, he scattered some more flowers over the altar and sat on thesmall stool for a while, murmuring the last prayers. He repeatedly heldthe palms of his hands over the flame of the tapers and rubbed his facewith them. Then he walked round the altar three times, and, having kneltthree times, retreated backwards to the door. 

A little while before our host had finished his morning prayers theladies of the house came into the room. They brought each a smallstool and sat in a row murmuring prayers and telling the beads of theirrosaries. 

The part played by the rosaries in India is as important as in allBuddhist countries. Every god has his favorite flower and his favoritematerial for a rosary. The fakirs are simply covered with rosaries. Therosary is called mala and consists of one hundred and eight beads. Verypious Hindus are not content to tell the beads when praying; they musthide their hands during this ceremony in a bag called gomukha, whichmeans the cow's mouth. 

We left the women to their prayers and followed our host to the cowhouse. The cow symbolizes the "fostering earth, " or Nature, and isworshipped accordingly. Sham Rao sat down by the cow and washed herfeet, first with her own milk, then with water. He gave her some sugarand rice, covered her forehead with powdered sandal, and adorned herhorns and four legs with chains of flowers. He burned some incense underher nostrils and brandished a burning lamp over her head. Then he walkedthree times round her and sat down to rest. Some Hindus walk round thecow one hundred and eight times, rosary in hand. But our Sham Rao hada slight tendency to freethinking, as we knew, and besides, he was toomuch of an admirer of Haeckel. Having rested himself, he filled a cupwith water, put in it the cow's tail for a moment, and then drank it!

After this he performed the rite of worshipping the sun and the sacredplant tulsi. Unable to bring the god Surya from his heavenly altar andwash him in the sacred font, Sham Rao contented himself by fillinghis own mouth with water, standing on one leg, and spirting this watertowards the sun. Needless to say it never reached the orb of day, but, very unexpectedly, sprinkled us instead. ----

It is still a mystery to us why the plant tulsi, Royal Basilicum, isworshipped. However, towards the end of September we yearly witnessedthe strange ceremony of the wedding of this plant with the god Vishnu, notwithstanding that tulsi bears the title of Krishna's bride, probablybecause of the latter being an incarnation of Vishnu. On these occasionspots of this plant are painted and adorned with tinsel. A magical circleis traced in the garden and the plant is put in the middle of it. ABrahman brings an idol of Vishnu and begins the marriage ceremony, standing before the plant. A married couple hold a shawl between theplant and the god, as if screening them from each other, the Brahmanutters prayers, and young women, and especially unmarried girls, who arethe most ardent worshippers of tulsi, throw rice and saffron over theidol and the plant. When the ceremony is concluded, the Brahman ispresented with the shawl, the idol is put in the shade of his wife, the Hindus clap their hands, rend everyone's ears with the noise oftom-toms, let off fireworks, offer each other pieces of sugar-cane, andrejoice in every conceivable way till the dawn of the next day. 

A Witch's Den

Our kind host Sham Rao was very gay during the remaining hours ofour visit. He did his best to entertain us, and would not hear of ourleaving the neighborhood without having seen its greatest celebrity, its most interesting sight. A jadu wala--sorceress--well known inthe district, was just at this time under the influence of sevensister-goddesses, who took possession of her by turns, and spoke theiroracles through her lips. Sham Rao said we must not fail to see her, beit only in the interests of science. 

The evening closes in, and we once more get ready for an excursion. Itis only five miles to the cavern of the Pythia of Hindostan; the roadruns through a jungle, but it is level and smooth. Besides, the jungleand its ferocious inhabitants have ceased to frighten us. The timidelephants we had in the "dead city" are sent home, and we are to mountnew behemoths belonging to a neighboring Raja. The pair, that standbefore the verandah like two dark hillocks, are steady and trust worthy. Many a time these two have hunted the royal tiger, and no wild shriekingor thunderous roaring can frighten them. And so, let us start!

The ruddy flames of the torches dazzle our eyes and increase the forestgloom. Our surroundings seem so dark, so mysterious. There is somethingindescribably fascinating, almost solemn, in these night-journeys inthe out-of-the-way corners of India. Everything is silent and desertedaround you, everything is dozing on the earth and overhead. Only theheavy, regular tread of the elephants breaks the stillness of the night, like the sound of falling hammers in the underground smithy of Vulcan. From time to time uncanny voices and murmurs are heard in the blackforest. 

"The wind sings its strange song amongst the ruins, " says one of us, "what a wonderful acoustic phenomenon!" "Bhuta, bhuta!" whisper theawestruck torch-bearers. They brandish their torches and swiftly spin onone leg, and snap their fingers to chase away the aggressive spirits. 

The plaintive murmur is lost in the distance. The forest is once morefilled with the cadences of its invisible nocturnal life--the metallicwhirr of the crickets, the feeble, monotonous croak of the tree-frog, the rustle of the leaves. From time to time all this suddenly stopsshort and then begins again, gradually increasing and increasing. 

Heavens! What teeming life, what stores of vital energy are hiddenunder the smallest leaf, the most imperceptible blades of grass, in thistropical forest! Myriads of stars shine in the dark blue of the sky, andmyriads of fireflies twinkle at us from every bush, moving sparks, likea pale reflection of the far-away stars. 

We left the thick forest behind us, and reached a deep glen, on threesides bordered with the thick forest, where even by day the shadows areas dark as by night. We were about two thousand feet above the foot ofthe Vindhya ridge, judging by the ruined wall of Mandu, straight aboveour heads. Suddenly a very chilly wind rose that nearly blew our torchesout. Caught in the labyrinth of bushes and rocks, the wind angrily shookthe branches of the blossoming syringas, then, shaking itself free, itturned back along the glen and flew down the valley, howling, whistlingand shrieking, as if all the fiends of the forest together were joiningin a funeral song. 

"Here we are, " said Sham Rao, dismounting. "Here is the village; theelephants cannot go any further. "

"The village? Surely you are mistaken. I don't see anything but trees. "

"It is too dark to see the village. Besides, the huts are so small, and so hidden by the bushes, that even by daytime you could hardly findthem. And there is no light in the houses, for fear of the spirits. "

"And where is your witch? Do you mean we are to watch her performance incomplete darkness?"

Sham Rao cast a furtive, timid look round him; and his voice, when heanswered our questions, was somewhat tremulous. 

"I implore you not to call her a witch! She may hear you. .. . It isnot far off, it is not more than half a mile. Do not allow this shortdistance to shake your decision. No elephant, and even no horse, couldmake its way there. We must walk. .. . But we shall find plenty of lightthere. .. . "

This was unexpected, and far from agreeable. To walk in this gloomyIndian night; to scramble through thickets of cactuses; to venture in adark forest, full of wild animals--this was too much for Miss X----. She declared that she would go no further. She would wait for us in thehowdah, on the elephant's back, and perhaps would go to sleep. 

Narayan was against this parti de plaisir from the very beginning, andnow, without explaining his reasons, he said she was the only sensibleone among us. 

"You won't lose anything, " he remarked, "by staying where you are. And Ionly wish everyone would follow your example. "

"What ground have you for saying so, I wonder?" remonstrated Sham Rao, and a slight note of disappointment rang in his voice, when he saw thatthe excursion, proposed and organized by himself, threatened to come tonothing. "What harm could be done by it? I won't insist any more thatthe 'incarnation of gods' is a rare sight, and that the Europeans hardlyever have an opportunity of witnessing it; but, besides, the Kangalimin question is no ordinary woman. She leads a holy life; she is aprophetess, and her blessing could not prove harmful to any one. Iinsisted on this excursion out of pure patriotism. "

"Sahib, if your patriotism consists in displaying before foreigners theworst of our plagues, then why did you not order all the lepers of yourdistrict to assemble and parade before the eyes of our guests? You are apatel, you have the power to do it. "

How bitterly Narayan's voice sounded to our unaccustomed ears. Usuallyhe was so even-tempered, so indifferent to everything belonging to theexterior world. 

Fearing a quarrel between the Hindus, the colonel remarked, in aconciliatory tone, that it was too late for us to reconsider ourexpedition. Besides, without being a believer in the "incarnation ofgods, " he was personally firmly convinced that demoniacs existed even inthe West. He was eager to study every psychological phenomenon, whereverhe met with it, and whatever shape it might assume. 

It would have been a striking sight for our European and Americanfriends if they had beheld our procession on that dark night. Our waylay along a narrow winding path up the mountain. Not more thantwo people could walk together--and we were thirty, including thetorch-bearers. Surely some reminiscence of night sallies against theconfederate Southerners had revived in the colonel's breast, judgingby the readiness with which he took upon himself the leadership of oursmall expedition. He ordered all the rifles and revolvers to be loaded, despatched three torch-bearers to march ahead of us, and arranged usin pairs. Under such a skilled chieftain we had nothing to fear fromtigers; and so our procession started, and slowly crawled up the windingpath. 

It cannot be said that the inquisitive travelers, who appeared later on, in the den of the prophetess of Mandu, shone through the freshness andelegance of their costumes. My gown, as well as the traveling suits ofthe colonel and of Mr. Y---- were nearly torn to pieces. The cactusesgathered from us whatever tribute they could, and the Babu's disheveledhair swarmed with a whole colony of grasshoppers and fireflies, which, probably, were attracted thither by the smell of cocoa-nut oil. Thestout Sham Rao panted like a steam engine. Narayan alone was like hisusual self; that is to say, like a bronze Hercules, armed with aclub. At the last abrupt turn of the path, after having surmounted thedifficulty of climbing over huge, scattered stones, we suddenly foundourselves on a perfectly smooth place; our eyes, in spite of our manytorches, were dazzled with light; and our ears were struck by a medleyof unusual sounds. 

A new glen opened before us, the entrance of which, from the valley, was well masked by thick trees. We understood how easily we might havewandered round it, without ever suspecting its existence. At the bottomof the glen we discovered the abode of the celebrated Kangalim. 

The den, as it turned out, was situated in the ruin of an old Hindutemple in tolerably good preservation. In all probability it was builtlong before the "dead city, " because during the epoch of the latter, theheathen were not allowed to have their own places of worship; and thetemple stood quite close to the wall of the town, in fact, right underit. The cupolas of the two smaller lateral pagodas had fallen long ago, and huge bushes grew out of their altars. This evening, their brancheswere hidden under a mass of bright colored rags, bits of ribbon, littlepots, and various other talismans; because, even in them, popularsuperstition sees something sacred. 

"And are not these poor people right? Did not these bushes growon sacred ground? Is not their sap impregnated with the incense ofofferings, and the exhalations of holy anchorites, who once lived andbreathed here?"

The learned, but superstitious Sham Rao would only answer our questionsby new questions. 

But the central temple, built of red granite, stood unharmed by time, and, as we learned afterwards, a deep tunnel opened just behind itsclosely-shut door. What was beyond it no one knew. Sham Rao assuredus that no man of the last three generations had ever stepped over thethreshold of this thick iron door; no one had seen the subterraneanpassage for many years. Kangalim lived there in perfect isolation, and, according to the oldest people in the neighborhood, she had always livedthere. Some people said she was three hundred years old; others allegedthat a certain old man on his death-bed had revealed to his son thatthis old woman was no one else than his own uncle. This fabulous unclehad settled in the cave in the times when the "dead city" still countedseveral hundreds of inhabitants. The hermit, busy paving his road toMoksha, had no intercourse with the rest of the world, and nobody knewhow he lived and what he ate. But a good while ago, in the days when theBellati (foreigners) had not yet taken possession of this mountain, theold hermit suddenly was transformed into a hermitess. She continueshis pursuits and speaks with his voice, and often in his name; but shereceives worshippers, which was not the practice of her predecessor. 

We had come too early, and the Pythia did not at first appear. Butthe square before the temple was full of people, and a wild, thoughpicturesque, scene it was. An enormous bonfire blazed in the centre, and round it crowded the naked savages like so many black gnomes, addingwhole branches of trees sacred to the seven sister-goddesses. Slowlyand evenly they all jumped from one leg to another to a tune of a singlemonotonous musical phrase, which they repeated in chorus, accompaniedby several local drums and tambourines. The hushed trill of the lattermingled with the forest echoes and the hysterical moans of two littlegirls, who lay under a heap of leaves by the fire. The poor childrenwere brought here by their mothers, in the hope that the goddesseswould take pity upon them and banish the two evil spirits under whoseobsession they were. Both mothers were quite young, and sat on theirheels blankly and sadly staring at the flames. No one paid us theslightest attention when we appeared, and afterwards during all ourstay these people acted as if we were invisible. Had we worn a cap ofdarkness they could not have behaved more strangely. 

"They feel the approach of the gods! The atmosphere is full of theirsacred emanations!" mysteriously explained Sham Rao, contemplatingwith reverence the natives, whom his beloved Haeckel might have easilymistaken for his "missing link, " the brood of his " Bathybius Haeckelii. "

"They are simply under the influence of toddy and opium!" retorted theirreverent Babu. 

The lookers-on moved as in a dream, as if they all were onlyhalf-awakened somnambulists; but the actors were simply victims of St. Vitus's dance. One of them, a tall old man, a mere skeleton with a longwhite beard, left the ring and begun whirling vertiginously, with hisarms spread like wings, and loudly grinding his long, wolf-like teeth. He was painful and disgusting to look at. He soon fell down, and wascarelessly, almost mechanically, pushed aside by the feet of the othersstill engaged in their demoniac performance. 

All this was frightful enough, but many more horrors were in store forus. 

Waiting for the appearance of the prima donna of this forest operacompany, we sat down on the trunk of a fallen tree, ready to askinnumerable questions of our condescending host. But I was hardlyseated, when a feeling of indescribable astonishment and horror made meshrink back. 

I beheld the skull of a monstrous animal, the like of which I could notfind in my zoological reminiscences. This head was much larger than thehead of an elephant skeleton. And still it could not be anything but anelephant, judging by the skillfully restored trunk, which wound downto my feet like a gigantic black leech. But an elephant has no horns, whereas this one had four of them! The front pair stuck from the flatforehead slightly bending forward and then spreading out; and theothers had a wide base, like the root of a deer's horn, that graduallydecreased almost up to the middle, and bore long branches enough todecorate a dozen ordinary elks. Pieces of the transparent amber-yellowrhinoceros skin were strained over the empty eye-holes of the skull, andsmall lamps burning behind them only added to the horror, the devilishappearance of this head. 

"What can this be?" was our unanimous question. None of us had ever metanything like it, and even the colonel looked aghast. 

"It is a Sivatherium, " said Narayan. "Is it possible you never cameacross these fossils in European museums? Their remains are commonenough in the Himalayas, though, of course, in fragments. They werecalled after Shiva. "

"If the collector of this district ever hears that this antediluvianrelic adorns the den of your--ahem!--witch, " remarked the Babu, "itwon't adorn it many days longer. "

All round the skull, and on the floor of the portico there were heapsof white flowers, which, though not quite antediluvian, were totallyunknown to us. They were as large as a big rose; and their white petalswere covered with a red powder, the inevitable concomitant of everyIndian religious ceremony. Further on, there were groups of cocoa-nuts, and large brass dishes filled with rice; and each adorned with a redor green taper. In the centre of the portico there stood a queer-shapedcenser, surrounded with chandeliers. A little boy, dressed from head tofoot in white, threw into it handfuls of aromatic powders. 

"These people, who assemble here to worship Kangalim, " said Sham Rao, "do not actually belong either to her sect or to any other. They aredevil-worshippers. They do not believe in Hindu gods, but live in smallcommunities; they belong to one of the many Indian races, which usuallyare called the hill-tribes. Unlike the Shanars of Southern Travancore, they do not use the blood of sacrificial animals; they do not buildseparate temples to their bhutas. But they are possessed by the strangefancy that the goddess Kali, the wife of Shiva, from time immemorialhas had a grudge against them, and sends her favorite evil spirits totorture them. Save this little difference, they have the same beliefs asthe Shanars. God does not exist for them; and even Shiva is consideredby them as an ordinary spirit. Their chief worship is offered to thesouls of the dead. These souls, however righteous and kind they maybe in their lifetime, become after death as wicked as can be; theyare happy only when they are torturing living men and cattle. As theopportunities of doing so are the only reward for the virtues theypossessed when incarnated, a very wicked man is punished by becomingafter his death a very soft-hearted ghost; he loathes his loss ofdaring, and is altogether miserable. The results of this strange logicare not bad, nevertheless. These savages and devil-worshippers arethe kindest and the most truth-loving of all the hill-tribes. They dowhatever they can to be worthy of their ultimate reward; because, don'tyou see, they all long to become the wickedest of devils!. .. . "

And put in good humor by his own wittiness, Sham Rao laughed till hishilarity became offensive, considering the sacredness of the place. 

"A year ago some business matters sent me to Tinevelli, " continued he. "Staying with a friend of mine, who is a Shanar, I was allowed to bepresent at one of the ceremonies in the honor of devils. No European hasas yet witnessed this worship--whatever the missionaries may say; butthere are many converts amongst the Shanars, who willingly describe themto the padres. My friend is a wealthy man, which is probably the reasonwhy the devils are especially vicious to him. They poison his cattle, spoil his crops and his coffee plants, and persecute his numerousrelations, sending them sunstrokes, madness and epilepsy, over whichillnesses they especially preside. These wicked demons have settled inevery corner of his spacious landed property--in the woods, the ruins, and even in his stables. To avert all this, my friend covered his landwith stucco pyramids, and prayed humbly, asking the demons to draw theirportraits on each of them, so that he may recognize them and worshipeach of them separately, as the rightful owner of this, or that, particular pyramid. And what do you think?. .. . Next morning allthe pyramids were found covered with drawings. Each of them bore anincredibly good likeness of the dead of the neighborhood. My friend hadknown personally almost all of them. He found also a portrait of his ownlate father amongst the lot. .. .. "

"Well? And was he satisfied?"

"Oh, he was very glad, very satisfied. It enabled him to choose theright thing to gratify the personal tastes of each demon, don't yousee? He was not vexed at finding his father's portrait. His fatherwas somewhat irascible; once he nearly broke both his son's legs, administering to him fatherly punishment with an iron bar, so thathe could not possibly be very dangerous after his death. But anotherportrait, found on the best and the prettiest of the pyramids, amazedmy friend a good deal, and put him in a blue funk. The whole districtrecognized an English officer, a certain Captain Pole, who in hislifetime was as kind a gentleman as ever lived. "

"Indeed? But do you mean to say that this strange people worshippedCaptain Pole also?"

"Of course they did! Captain Pole was such a worthy man, such an honestofficer, that, after his death, he could not help being promoted to thehighest rank of Shanar devils. The Pe-Kovil, demon's house, sacred tohis memory, stands side by side with the Pe-Kovil Bhadrakali, which wasrecently conferred on the wife of a certain German missionary, who alsowas a most charitable lady and so is very dangerous now. "

"But what are their ceremonies? Tell us something about their rites. "

"Their rites consist chiefly of dancing, singing, and killingsacrificial animals. The Shanars have no castes, and eat all kinds ofmeat. The crowd assembles about the Pe-Kovil, previously designated bythe priest; there is a general beating of drums, and slaughtering offowls, sheep and goats. When Captain Pole's turn came an ox was killed, as a thoughtful attention to the peculiar tastes of his nation. Thepriest appeared, covered with bangles, and holding a wand on whichtinkled numberless little bells, and wearing garlands of red and whiteflowers round his neck, and a black mantle, on which were embroideredthe ugliest fiends you can imagine. Horns were blown and drums rolledincessantly. And oh, I forgot to tell you there was also a kind offiddle, the secret of which is known only to the Shanar priesthood. Itsbow is ordinary enough, made of bamboo; but it is whispered that thestrings are human veins. .. . When Captain Pole took possession of thepriest's body, the priest leapt high in the air, and then rushed on theox and killed him. He drank off the hot blood, and then began hisdance. But what a fright he was when dancing! You know, I am notsuperstitious. .. . Am I?. .. "

Sham Rao looked at us inquiringly, and I, for one, was glad, at thismoment, that Miss X---- was half a mile off, asleep in the howdah. 

"He turned, and turned, as if possessed by all the demons of Naraka. Theenraged crowd hooted and howled when the priest begun to inflict deepwounds all over his body with the bloody sacrificial knife. To see him, with his hair waving in the wind and his mouth covered with foam; to seehim bathing in the blood of the sacrificed animal, mixing it with hisown, was more than I could bear. I felt as if hallucinated, I fancied Ialso was spinning round. .. . "

Sham Rao stopped abruptly, struck dumb. Kangalim stood before us!

Her appearance was so unexpected that we all felt embarrassed. Carriedaway by Sham Rao's description, we had noticed neither how nor whenceshe came. Had she appeared from beneath the earth we could not have beenmore astonished. Narayan stared at her, opening wide his big jet-blackeyes; the Babu clicked his tongue in utter confusion. Imagine a skeletonseven feet high, covered with brown leather, with a dead child's tinyhead stuck on its bony shoulders; the eyes set so deep and at the sametime flashing such fiendish flames all through your body that you beginto feel your brain stop working, your thoughts become entangled and yourblood freeze in your veins. 

I describe my personal impressions, and no words of mine can do themjustice. My description is too weak. 

Mr. Y---- and the colonel both grew pale under her stare, and Mr. Y----made a movement as if about to rise. 

Needless to say that such an impression could not last. As soon as thewitch had turned her gleaming eyes to the kneeling crowd, it vanishedas swiftly as it had come. But still all our attention was fixed on thisremarkable creature. 

Three hundred years old! Who can tell? Judging by her appearance, wemight as well conjecture her to be a thousand. We beheld a genuineliving mummy, or rather a mummy endowed with motion. She seemed to havebeen withering since the creation. Neither time, nor the ills of life, nor the elements could ever affect this living statue of death. Theall-destroying hand of time had touched her and stopped short. Timecould do no more, and so had left her. And with all this, not a singlegrey hair. Her long black locks shone with a greenish sheen, and fell inheavy masses down to her knees. 

To my great shame, I must confess that a disgusting reminiscence flashedinto my memory. I thought about the hair and the nails of corpsesgrowing in the graves, and tried to examine the nails of the old woman. 

Meanwhile, she stood motionless as if suddenly transformed into an uglyidol. In one hand she held a dish with a piece of burning camphor, inthe other a handful of rice, and she never removed her burning eyes fromthe crowd. The pale yellow flame of the camphor flickered in the wind, and lit up her deathlike head, almost touching her chin; but she paid noheed to it. Her neck, as wrinkled as a mushroom, as thin as a stick, wassurrounded by three rows of golden medallions. Her head was adorned witha golden snake. Her grotesque, hardly human body was covered by a pieceof saffron-yellow muslin. 

The demoniac little girls raised their heads from be-neath the leaves, and set up a prolonged animal-like howl. Their example was followed bythe old man, who lay exhausted by his frantic dance. 

The witch tossed her head convulsively, and began her invocations, rising on tiptoe, as if moved by some external force. 

"The goddess, one of the seven sisters, begins to take possession ofher, " whispered Sham Rao, not even thinking of wiping away the big dropsof sweat that streamed from his brow. "Look, look at her!"

This advice was quite superfluous. We were looking at her, and atnothing else. 

At first, the movements of the witch were slow, unequal, somewhatconvulsive; then, gradually, they became less angular; at last, as ifcatching the cadence of the drums, leaning all her long body forward, and writhing like an eel, she rushed round and round the blazingbonfire. A dry leaf caught in a hurricane could not fly swifter. Herbare bony feet trod noiselessly on the rocky ground. The long locks ofher hair flew round her like snakes, lashing the spectators, who knelt, stretching their trembling arms towards her, and writhing as if theywere alive. Whoever was touched by one of this Fury's black curls, felldown on the ground, overcome with happiness, shouting thanks to thegoddess, and considering himself blessed for ever. It was not human hairthat touched the happy elect, it was the goddess herself, one of theseven. Swifter and swifter fly her decrepit legs; the young, vigoroushands of the drummer can hardly follow her. But she does not thinkof catching the measure of his music; she rushes, she flies forward. Staring with her expressionless, motionless orbs at something beforeher, at something that is not visible to our mortal eyes, she hardlyglances at her worshippers; then her look becomes full of fire; andwhoever she looks at feels burned through to the marrow of his bones. At every glance she throws a few grains of rice. The small handful seemsinexhaustible, as if the wrinkled palm contained the bottomless bag ofPrince Fortunatus. 

Suddenly she stops as if thunderstruck. 

The mad race round the bonfire had lasted twelve minutes, but we lookedin vain for a trace of fatigue on the deathlike face of the witch. Shestopped only for a moment, just the necessary time for the goddess torelease her. As soon as she felt free, by a single effort she jumpedover the fire and plunged into the deep tank by the portico. This time, she plunged only once; and whilst she stayed under the water, thesecond sister-goddess entered her body. The little boy in white producedanother dish, with a new piece of burning camphor, just in time for thewitch to take it up, and to rush again on her headlong way. 

The colonel sat with his watch in his hand. During the second obsessionthe witch ran, leaped, and raced for exactly fourteen minutes. Afterthis, she plunged twice in the tank, in honor of the second sister; andwith every new obsession the number of her plunges increased, till itbecame six. 

It was already an hour and a half since the race began. All this timethe witch never rested, stopping only for a few seconds, to disappearunder the water. 

"She is a fiend, she cannot be a woman!" exclaimed the colonel, seeingthe head of the witch immersed for the sixth time in the water. 

"Hang me if I know!" grumbled Mr. Y----, nervously pulling his beard. "The only thing I know is that a grain of her cursed rice entered mythroat, and I can't get it out!"

"Hush, hush! Please, do be quiet!" implored Sham Rao. "By talking youwill spoil the whole business!"

I glanced at Narayan and lost myself in conjectures. His features, whichusually were so calm and serene, were quite altered at this moment, by adeep shadow of suffering. His lips trembled, and the pupils of his eyeswere dilated, as if by a dose of belladonna. His eyes were lifted overthe heads of the crowd, as if in his disgust he tried not to see whatwas before him, and at the same time could not see it, engaged in a deepreverie, which carried him away from us, and from the whole performance. 

"What is the matter with him?" was my thought, but I had no time to askhim, because the witch was again in full swing, chasing her own shadow. 

But with the seventh goddess the programme was slightly changed. Therunning of the old woman changed to leaping. Sometimes bending down tothe ground, like a black panther, she leaped up to some worshipper, andhalting before him touched his forehead with her finger, while her long, thin body shook with inaudible laughter. Then, again, as if shrinkingback playfully from her shadow, and chased by it, in some uncanny game, the witch appeared to us like a horrid caricature of Dinorah, dancingher mad dance. Suddenly she straightened herself to her full height, darted to the portico and crouched before the smoking censer, beatingher forehead against the granite steps. Another jump, and she was quiteclose to us, before the head of the monstrous Sivatherium. She kneltdown again and bowed her head to the ground several times, with thesound of an empty barrel knocked against something hard. 

We had hardly the time to spring to our feet and shrink back when sheappeared on the top of the Sivatherium's head, standing there amongstthe horns. 

Narayan alone did not stir, and fearlessly looked straight in the eyesof the frightful sorceress. 

But what was this? Who spoke in those deep manly tones? Her lips weremoving, from her breast were issuing those quick, abrupt phrases, butthe voice sounded hollow as if coming from beneath the ground. 

"Hush, hush!" whispered Sham Rao, his whole body trembling. "She isgoing to prophesy!. .. . " "She?" incredulously inquired Mr. Y----. "Thisa woman's voice? I don't believe it for a moment. Someone's uncle mustbe stowed away somewhere about the place. Not the fabulous uncle sheinherited from, but a real live one!. .. "

Sham Rao winced under the irony of this supposition, and cast animploring look at the speaker. 

"Woe to you! woe to you!" echoed the voice. "Woe to you, children ofthe impure Jaya and Vijaya! of the mocking, unbelieving lingerers roundgreat Shiva's door! Ye, who are cursed by eighty thousand sages! Woe toyou who believe not in the goddess Kali, and you who deny us, her Sevendivine Sisters! Flesh-eating, yellow-legged vultures! friends of theoppressors of our land! dogs who are not ashamed to eat from the sametrough with the Bellati!" (foreigners). 

"It seems to me that your prophetess only foretells the past, " said Mr. Y----, philosophically putting his hands in his pockets. "I should saythat she is hinting at you, my dear Sham Rao. "

"Yes! and at us also, " murmured the colonel, who was evidently beginningto feel uneasy. 

As to the unlucky Sham Rao, he broke out in a cold sweat, and tried toassure us that we were mistaken, that we did not fully understand herlanguage. 

"It is not about you, it is not about you! It is of me she speaks, because I am in Government service. Oh, she is inexorable!"

"Rakshasas! Asuras!" thundered the voice. "How dare you appear beforeus? how dare you to stand on this holy ground in boots made of a cow'ssacred skin? Be cursed for etern----"

But her curse was not destined to be finished. In an instant theHercules-like Narayan had fallen on the Sivatherium, and upset the wholepile, the skull, the horns and the demoniac Pythia included. A secondmore, and we thought we saw the witch flying in the air towards theportico. A confused vision of a stout, shaven Brahman, suddenly emergingfrom under the Sivatherium and instantly disappearing in the hollowbeneath it, flashed before my dilated eyes. 

But, alas! after the third second had passed, we all came to theembarrassing conclusion that, judging from the loud clang of the doorof the cave, the representative of the Seven Sisters had ignominiouslyfled. The moment she had disappeared from our inquisitive eyes to hersubterranean domain, we all realized that the unearthly hollow voice wehad heard had nothing supernatural about it and belonged to the Brahmanhidden under the Sivatherium--to someone's live uncle, as Mr. Y---- hadrightly supposed. 

Oh, Narayan! how carelessly. .. . How disorderly the worlds rotate aroundus. .. . I begin to seriously doubt their reality. From this moment Ishall earnestly believe that all things in the universe are nothing butillusion, a mere Maya. I am becoming a Vedantin. .. . I doubt that in thewhole universe there may be found anything more objective than a Hinduwitch flying up the spout. ----

Miss X---- woke up, and asked what was the meaning of all thisnoise. The noise of many voices and the sounds of the many retreatingfootsteps, the general rush of the crowd, had frightened her. Shelistened to us with a condescending smile, and a few yawns, and went tosleep again. 

Next morning, at daybreak, we very reluctantly, it must be owned, badegood-bye to the kind-hearted, good-natured Sham Rao. The confoundinglyeasy victory of Narayan hung heavily on his mind. His faith in the holyhermitess and the seven goddesses was a good deal shaken by the shamefulcapitulation of the Sisters, who had surrendered at the first blow froma mere mortal. But during the dark hours of the night he had had time tothink it over, and to shake off the uneasy feeling of having unwillinglymisled and disappointed his European friends. 

Sham Rao still looked confused when he shook hands with us at parting, and expressed to us the best wishes of his family and himself. 

As to the heroes of this truthful narrative, they mounted theirelephants once more, and directed their heavy steps towards the highroad and Jubbulpore. 

God's Warrior

The direction of our pilgrimage of self-improvement lay towards thenorth-west, as was previously decided. We were very impatient to seethese status in statu of Anglo-India, but. .. . Do what you may, therealways will be a but. 

We left the Jubbulpore line several miles from Nassik; and, to return toit, we had to go back to Akbarpur, then travel by doubtful Local-Boardroads to the station Vanevad and take the train of Holkar's line, whichjoins the Great Indian Peninsular Railway. 

Meanwhile, the Bagh caves were quite close to us, not more than fiftymiles off, to the east from Mandu. We were undecided whether to leavethem alone or go back to the Nerbudda. In the country situated on theother side of Kandesh, our Babu had some "chums, " as everywhere else inIndia; the omnipresent Bengali Babus, who are always glad to be ofsome service to you, are scattered all over Hindostan, like the Jews inRussia. Besides, our party was joined by a new member. 

The day before we had received a letter from Swami Dayanand, carried tous by a traveling Sannyasi. Dayanand informed us that the cholera wasincreasing every day in Hardwar, and that we must postpone making hisacquaintance personally till the end of May, either in Dehra-Dun, at thefoot of Himalaya, or in Saharanpur, which attracts every tourist by itscharming situation. 

The Sannyasi brought us also a nosegay from the Swami, a nosegay of themost extraordinary flowers, which are totally unknown in Europe. Theygrow only in certain Himalayan valleys; they possess the wonderfulcapacity of changing their color after midday, and do not look dead evenwhen faded. The Latin name of this charming plant is Hibiscus mutabilis. At night they are nothing but a large knot of pressed green leaves, but from dawn till ten o'clock the flowers open and look like largesnow-white roses; then, towards twelve o'clock, they begin to redden, and later in the afternoon they look as crimson as a peony. Theseflowers are sacred to the Asuras, a kind of fallen angels in Hindumythology, and to the sun-god Surya. The latter deity fell in love withan Asuri at the beginning of creation, and since then is constantlycaught whispering words of fiery love to the flower that shelters her. But the Asura is a virgin; she gives herself entirely to the serviceof the goddess Chastity, who is the patroness of all the asceticbrotherhoods. The love of Surya is vain, Asura will not listen to him. But under the flaming arrows of the enamoured god she blushes and inappearance loses her purity. The natives call this plant lajjalu, themodest one. 

We were spending the night by a brook, under a shadowy fig-tree. TheSannyasi, who had made a wide circuit to fulfil Dayanand's request, madefriends with us; and we sat up late in the night, listening whilst hetalked about his travels, the wonders of his native country, once sogreat, and about the heroic deeds of old Runjit-Sing, the Lion of thePunjab. 

Strange, mysterious beings are found sometimes amongst these travelingmonks. Some of them are very learned; read and talk Sanskrit; know allabout modern science and politics; and, nevertheless, remain faithful totheir ancient philosophical conceptions. Generally they do not wear anyclothes, except a piece of muslin round the loins, which is insistedupon by the police of the towns inhabited by Europeans. They wander fromthe age of fifteen, all their lives, and die generally very aged. Theylive never giving a thought to the morrow, like the birds of heaven, andthe lilies of the field. They never touch money, and are contented witha handful of rice. All their worldly possessions consist of a small drypumpkin to carry water, a rosary, a brass cup and a walking stick. The Sannyasis and the Swamis are usually Sikhs from the Punjab, andmonotheists. They despise idol-worshipers, and have nothing to do withthem, though the latter very often call themselves by their names. 

Our new friend was a native of Amritsar, in the Punjab, and had beenbrought up in the "Golden Temple, " on the banks of Amrita-Saras, the"Lake of Immortality. " The head Guru, or instructor, of Sikhs residesthere. He never crosses the boundaries of the temple. His chiefoccupation is the study of the book called Adigrantha, which belongs tothe sacred literature of this strange bellicose sect. The Sikhs respecthim as much as the Tibetans respect their Dalai-Lama. The Lamas ingeneral consider the latter to be the incarnation of Buddha, the Sikhsthink that the Maha-Guru of Amritsar is the incarnation of Nanak, thefounder of their sect. Nevertheless, no true Sikh will ever say thatNanak was a deity; they look on him as a prophet, inspired by the spiritof the only God. This shows that our Sannyasi was not one of thenaked travelling monks, but a true Akali; one of the six hundredwarrior-priests attached to the Golden Temple, for the purpose ofserving God and protecting the temple from the destructive Mussulmans. His name was Ram-Runjit-Das; and his personal appearance was in perfectaccordance with his title of "God's warrior. " His exterior was veryremarkable and typical; and he looked like a muscular centurion ofancient Roman legions, rather than a peaceable servant of the altar. Ram-Runjit-Das appeared to us mounted on a magnificent horse, andaccompanied by another Sikh, who respectfully walked some distancebehind him, and was evidently passing through his noviciate. Our Hinducompanions had discerned that he was an Akali, when he was still in thedistance. He wore a bright blue tunic without sleeves, exactly like thatwe see on the statues of Roman warriors. Broad steel bracelets protectedhis strong arms, and a shield protruded from behind his back. A blue, conical turban covered his head, and round his waist were many steelcirclets. The enemies of the Sikhs assert that these sacred sectarianbelts become more dangerous in the hand of an experienced "God'swarrior, " than any other weapon. 

The Sikhs are the bravest and the most warlike sect of the whole Punjab. The word sikh means disciple. Founded in the fifteenth century by thewealthy and noble Brahman Nanak, the new teaching spread so successfullyamongst the northern soldiers, that in 1539 A. D. , when the founder died, it counted one hundred thousand followers. At the present time, thissect, harmonizing closely with the fiery natural mysticism, and thewarlike tendencies of the natives, is the reigning creed of the wholePunjab. It is based on the principles of theocratic rule; but its dogmasare almost totally unknown to Europeans; the teachings, the religiousconceptions, and the rites of the Sikhs, are kept secret. The followingdetails are known generally: the Sikhs are ardent monotheists, theyrefuse to recognize caste; have no restrictions in diet, like Europeans;and bury their dead, which, except among Mussulmans, is a rare exceptionin India. The second volume of the Adigrantha teaches them "to adore theonly true God; to avoid superstitions; to help the dead, that theymay lead a righteous life; and to earn one's living, sword in hand. "Govinda, one of the great Gurus of the Sikhs, ordered them never toshave their beards and moustaches, and not to cut their hair--in orderthat they may not be mistaken for Mussulmans or any other native ofIndia. 

Many a desperate battle the Sikhs fought and won, against theMussulmans, and against the Hindus. Their leader, the celebratedRunjit-Sing, after having been acknowledged the autocrat of the UpperPunjab, concluded a treaty with Lord Auckland, at the beginning of thiscentury, in which his country was proclaimed an independent state. Butafter the death of the "old lion, " his throne became the cause of themost dreadful civil wars and disorders. His son, Maharaja Dhulip-Sing, proved quite unfit for the high post he inherited from his father, and, under him, the Sikhs became an ill-disciplined restless mob. Theirattempt to conquer the whole of Hindostan proved disastrous. Persecutedby his own soldiers, Dhulip-Sing sought the help of Englishmen, and wassent away to Scotland. And some time after this, the Sikhs took theirplace amongst the rest of Britain's Indian subjects. 

But still there remains a strong body of the great Sikh sect of old. The Kuks represent the most dangerous underground current of the popularhatred. This new sect was founded about thirty years ago [written in1879] by Balaka-Rama, and, at first, formed a bulk of people near Attok, in the Punjab, on the east bank of the Indus, exactly on the spot wherethe latter becomes navigable. Balaka-Rama had a double aim; to restorethe religion of the Sikhs to its pristine purity, and to organize asecret political body, which must be ready for everything, at a moment'snotice. This brotherhood consists of sixty thousand members, who pledgedthemselves never to reveal their secrets, and never to disobey any orderof their leaders. In Attok they are few, for the town is small. But wewere assured that the Kuks live everywhere in India. Their communityis so perfectly organized that it is impossible to find them out, or tolearn the names of their leaders. 

In the course of the evening our Akali presented us with a littlecrystal bottle, filled with water from the "Lake of Immortality. " Hesaid that a drop of it would cure all diseases of the eye. There arenumbers of fresh springs at the bottom of this lake, and so its water iswonderfully pure and transparent, in spite of hundreds of people dailybathing in it. When, later on, we visited it, we had the opportunity toverify the fact that the smallest stone at the bottom is seen perfectlydistinctly, all over the one hundred and fifty square yards of the lake. Amrita-Saran is the most charming of all the sights of Northern India. The reflection of the Golden Temple in its crystal waters makes apicture that is simply feerique. 

We had still seven weeks at our disposal. We were undecided betweenexploring the Bombay Presidency, the North-West Provinces and theRajistan. Which were we to choose? Where were we to go? How best toemploy our time? Before such a variety of interesting places we becameirresolute. Hyderabad, which is said to transport the tourists into thescenery of the Arabian Nights, seemed so attractive that we seriouslythought of turning our elephants back to the territory of the Nizam. We grew fond of the idea of visiting this "City of the Lion, " which wasbuilt in 1589 by the magnificent Mohamed-Kuli-Kuth-Shah, who was so usedto luxuries of every kind as to grow weary even of Golkonda, with allits fairyland castles and bright gardens. Some buildings ofHyderabad, mere remnants of the past glory, are still known torenown. Mir-Abu-Talib, the keeper of the Royal Treasury, states thatMohamed-Kuli-Shah spent the fabulous sum of L 2, 800, 000 sterling on theembellishment of the town, at the beginning of his reign; though thelabor of the workmen did not cost him anything at all. Save these fewmemorials of greatness, the town looks like a heap of rubbish nowadays. But all tourists are unanimous on one point, namely, that the BritishResidency of Hyderabad still deserves its title of the Versailles ofIndia. 

The title the British Residency bears, and everything it may contain atthe present time, are mere trifles compared with the past. I rememberreading a chapter of the History of Hyderabad, by an English author, which contained something to the following effect: Whilst the Residententertained the gentlemen, his wife was similarly employed receiving theladies a few yards off, in a separate palace, which was as sumptuous, and bore the name of Rang-Mahal. Both palaces were built by ColonelKirkpatrick, the late minister at the Nizam's court. Having married anative princess, he constructed this charming abode for her personaluse. Its garden is surrounded by a high wall, as is customary in theOrient, and the centre of the garden is adorned with a large marblefountain, covered with scenes from the Ramayana, and mosaics, Pavilions, galleries and terraces--everything in this garden is loaded withadornments of the most costly Oriental style, that is to say, withabundance of inlaid designs, paintings, gilding, ivory and marble. Thegreat attraction of Mrs. Kirkpatrick's receptions were the nautches, magnificently dressed, thanks to the generosity of the Resident. Someof them wore a cargo of jewels worth L 30, 000, and literally shone fromhead to foot with diamonds and other precious stones. 

The glorious times of the East India Company are beyond recall, andno Residents, and even no native princes, could now afford to be so"generous. " India, this "most precious diamond of the British crown, " isutterly exhausted, like a pile of gold in the hands of an alchemist, whothriftlessly spent it in the hope of finding the philosopher's stone. Besides ruining themselves and the country, the Anglo-Indians commit thegreatest blunders, at least in two points of their present Governmentsystem. These two points are: first, the Western education they give tothe higher classes; and, secondly, the protection and maintenance of therights of idol worship. Neither of these systems is wise. By means ofthe first they successfully replace the religious feelings of old India, which, however false, had the great advantage of being sincere, by apositive atheism amongst the young generation of the Brahmans; and bythe means of the second they flatter only the ignorant masses, fromwhom nothing is to be feared under any circumstances. If the patrioticfeelings of the bulk of the population could possibly be roused, theEnglish would have been slaughtered long ago. The rural populace isunarmed, it is true, but a crowd seeking revenge could use the brass andstone idols, sent to India by thousands from Birmingham, with as greatsuccess as if they were so many swords. But, as it is, the masses ofIndia are indifferent and harmless; so that the only existing dangercomes from the side of the educated classes. And the English fail to seethat the better the education they give them, the more careful they mustbe to avoid reopening the old wounds, always alive to new injury, inthe heart of every true Hindu. The Hindus are proud of the past of theircountry, dreams of past glories are their only compensation for thebitter present. The English education they receive only enables themto learn that Europe was plunged in the darkness of the Stone Age, whenIndia was in the full growth of her splendid civilization. And so thecomparison of their past with their present is only the more sad. Thisconsideration never hinders the Anglo-Indians from hurting the feelingsof the Hindus. For instance, in the unanimous opinion of travelersand antiquarians, the most interesting building of Hyderabad isChahar-Minar, a college that was built by Mohamed-Kuli-Khan on the ruinsof a still more ancient college. It is built at the crossing of fourstreets, on four arches, which are so high that loaded camels andelephants with their turrets pass through freely. Over these arches risethe several stories of the college. Each story once was destined fora separate branch of learning. Alas! the times when India studiedphilosophy and astronomy at the feet of her great sages are gone, andthe English have transformed the college itself into a warehouse. Thehall, which served for the study of astronomy, and was filled withquaint, medieval apparatus, is now used for a depot of opium; and thehall of philosophy contains huge boxes of liqueurs, rum and champagne, which are prohibited by the Koran, as well as by the Brahmans. 

We were so enchanted by what we heard about Hyderabad, that we resolvedto start thither the very next morning, when our ciceroni and companionsdestroyed all our plans by a single word. This word was: heat. Duringthe hot season in Hyderabad the thermometer reaches ninety-eight degreesFahrenheit in the shade, and the temperature of the water in the Indusis the temperature of the blood. As to Upper Sindh, where the dryness ofthe air, and the extreme aridity of the sandy soil reproduce the Saharain miniature, the usual shade temperature is one hundred and thirtydegrees Fahrenheit. No wonder the missionaries have no chance there. The most eloquent of Dante's descriptions of hell could hardly produceanything but a cooling effect on a populace who live perfectly contentedunder these circumstances. 

Calculating that there was no obstacle to our going to the Bagh caves, and that going to Sindh was a perfect impossibility, we recovered ourequanimity. Then the general council decided that we had better abandonall ideas of a predetermined plan, and travel as fancy led us. 

We dismissed our elephants, and next day, a little before sunset, arrived at the spot where the Vagrey and Girna join. These are twolittle rivers, quite famous in the annals of the Indian mythology, andwhich are generally conspicuous by their absence, especially in summer. At the opposite side of the river, there lay the illustrious Bagh caves, with their four openings blinking in the thick evening mist. 

We thought of crossing to them immediately, by the help of a ferry boat, but our Hindu friends and the boat-men interposed. The former saidthat visiting these caves is dangerous even by daytime; because all theneighborhood is full of beasts of prey and of tigers, who, I concluded, are like the Bengali Babus, to be met with everywhere in India. Beforeventuring into these caves, you must send a reconnoitring party oftorch-bearers and armed shikaris. As to the boatmen, they protested ondifferent grounds, but protested strongly. They said that no Hindu woulddare to approach these caves after the sun set. No one but a Bellatiwould fancy that Vagrey and Girna are ordinary rivers, for every Hinduknows they are divine spouses, the god Shiva and his wife Parvati. This, in the first instance; and in the second, the Bagh tigers are noordinary tigers either. The sahibs are totally mistaken. These tigersare the servants of the Sadhus, of the holy miracle-workers, who havehaunted the caves now for many centuries, and who deign sometimes totake the shape of a tiger. And neither the gods, nor the Sadhus, northe glamour, nor the true tigers are fond of being disturbed in theirnightly rest. 

What could we say against all this? We cast one more sorrowful lookat the caves, and returned to our antediluvian carriages. The Babu andNarayan said we must spend the night at the house of a certain "chum"of the Babu, who resided in a small town, three miles further on, andbearing the same name as the caves; and we unwillingly acquiesced. 

Many things in India are wonderful and unintelligible, but one of themost wonderful and the most unintelligible, is the geographical and thetopographical disposition of the numberless territories of this country. Political conjunctures in India seem to be everlastingly playing theFrench game casse-tete, changing the pattern, diminishing one part andadding to another. The land that only yesterday belonged to this Raja orthat Takur, is sure to be found today in the hands of quite a differentset of people. For instance, we were in the Raj of Amjir in Malva, andwe were going to the little city of Bagh, which also belongs to Malvaand is included in the Amjir Raj. In the documents, Malva is includedin the independent possessions of Holkar; and nevertheless the Amjir Rajdoes not belong to Tukuji-Rao-Holkar, but to the son of the independentRaja of Amjir, who was hanged, "by inadvertence" as we were assured, in1857. The city, and the caves of Bagh, very oddly belong to the MaharajaSindya of Gwalior, who, besides, does not own them personally, havingmade a kind of present of them, and their nine thousand rupees ofrevenue, to some poor relation. This poor relation, in his turn, doesnot enjoy the property in the least, because a certain Rajput Takurstole it from him, and will not consent to give it back. Bagh issituated on the road from Gujerat to Malva, in the defile of Oodeypur, which is owned accordingly by the Maharana of Oodeypur. Bagh itself isbuilt on the top of a woody hillock, and being disputed property doesnot belong to any one in particular, properly speaking; but a smallfortress, and a bazaar in the centre of it are the private possessionsof a certain dhani; who, besides being the chieftain of the Bhimalahtribe, was the personal "chum" of our Babu, and a "great thief andhighway robber, " according to the assertions of the said Babu. 

"But why do you intend taking us to the place of a man whom you consideras a thief and a robber?" objected one of us timidly. 

"He is a thief and a brigand, " coolly answered the Bengali, "but only inthe political sense. Otherwise he is an excellent man, and the truestof friends. Besides, if he does not help us, we shall starve; the bazaarand everything in the shops belong to him. "

These explanations of the Babu notwithstanding, we were glad to learnthat the "chum" in question was absent, and we were received by arelation of his. The garden was put at our disposal, and before ourtents were pitched, we saw people coming from every side of the garden, bringing us provisions. Having deposited what he had brought, each ofthem, on leaving the tent, threw over his shoulder a pinch of betel andsoft sugar, an offering to the "foreign bhutas, " which were supposed toaccompany us wherever we went. The Hindus of our party asked us, very seriously, not to laugh at this performance, saying it would bedangerous in this out-of-the-way place. 

No doubt they were right. We were in Central India, the very nest ofall kinds of superstitions, and were surrounded by Bhils. All along theVindya ridge, from Yama, on the west of the "dead city, " the country isthickly populated by this most daring, restless and superstitious of allthe half-savage tribes of India. 

The Orientalists think that the naive Bhils comes from the Sanskrit rootbhid, which means to separate. Sir J. Malcolm supposes accordingly thatthe Bhils are sectarians, who separated from the Brahmanical creed, and were excommunicated. All this looks very probable, but their tribaltraditions say something different. Of course, in this case, as in everyother, their history is strongly entangled with mythology; and one hasto go through a thick shrubbery of fancy before reaching the tribe'sgenealogical tree. 

The relation of the absent dhani, who spent the evening with us, toldus the following: The Bhils are the descendants of one of the sons ofMahadeva, or Shiva, and of a fair woman, with blue eyes and a whiteface, whom he met in some forest on the other side of the Kalapani, "black waters, " or ocean. This pair had several sons, one of whom, ashandsome as he was vicious, killed the favorite ox of his grandfatherMaha-deva, and was banished by his father to the Jodpur desert. Banishedto its remotest southern corner, he married; and soon his descendantsfilled the whole country. They scattered along the Vindya ridge, onthe western frontier of Malva and Kandesh; and, later, in the woodywilderness, on the shores of the rivers Maha, Narmada and Tapti. And allof them, inheriting the beauty of their forefather, his blue eyes andfair complexion, inherited also his turbulent disposition and his vice. 

"We are thieves and robbers, " naively explained the relative of theBabu's "chum, " "but we can't help it, because this is the decree of ourmighty forefather, the great Maha-deva-Shiva. Sending his grandson torepent his sins in the desert, he said to him: 'Go, wretched murderer ofmy son and your brother, the ox Nardi; go and live the life of an exileand a brigand, to be an everlasting warning to your brethren!. .. ' Theseare the very words of the great god. Now, do you think we coulddisobey his orders? The least of our actions is always regulated by ourBhamyas--chieftains--who are the direct descendants of Nadir-Sing, thefirst Bhil, the child of our exiled ancestor, and being this, it is onlynatural that the great god speaks to us through him. "

Is not it strange that Apis, the sacred ox of the Egyptians, is honoredby the followers of Zoroaster, as well as by the Hindus? The ox Nardi, the emblem of life in nature, is the son of the creating father, orrather his life-giving breath. Ammianus Marcellinus mentions, in one ofhis works, that there exists a book which gives the exact age of Apis, the clue to the mystery of creation and the cyclic calculations. TheBrahmans also explain the allegory of the ox Nardi by the continuationof life on our globe. 

The "mediators" between Shiva and the Bhils possess such unrestrictedauthority that the most awful crimes are accomplished at their lightestword. The tribe have thought it necessary to decrease their power to acertain extent by instituting a kind of council in every village. Thiscouncil is called tarvi, and tries to cool down the hot-headed fanciesof the dhanis, their brigand lords. However, the word of the Bhils issacred, and their hospitality is boundless. 

The history and the annals of the princes of Jodpur and Oodeypur confirmthe legend of the Bhil emigration from their primitive desert, but howthey happened to be there nobody knows. Colonel Tod is positive that theBhils, together with the Merases and the Goands, are the aborigines ofIndia, as well as the tribes who inhabit the Nerbuda forests. But whythe Bhils should be almost fair and blue-eyed, whereas the rest ofthe hill-tribes are almost African in type, is a question that is notanswered by this statement. The fact that all these aborigines callthemselves Bhumaputra and Vanaputra, sons of the earth and sons ofthe forest, when the Rajputs, their first conquerors, call themselvesSurya-vansa and the Brahmans Indu-putras, descendants of the sun andthe moon, does not prove everything. It seems to me, that in the presentcase, their appearance, which confirms their legends, is of much greatervalue than philology. Dr. Clark, the author of Travels in Scandinavia, is very logical in saying that, "by directing our attention on thetraces of the ancient superstitions of a tribe, we shall find out whowere its primitive forefathers much more easily than by scientificexamination of their tongue; the superstitions are grafted on the veryroot, whereas the tongue is subjected to all kinds of changes. "

But, unfortunately, everything we know about the history of the Bhils isreduced to the above-mentioned tradition, and to a few ancient songsof their bards. These bards or bhattas live in Rajistan, but visitthe Bhils yearly, in order not to lose the leading thread of theachievements of their countrymen. Their songs are history, because thebhattas have existed from time immemorial, composing their lays forfuture generations, for this is their hereditary duty. And the songs ofthe remotest antiquity point to the lands over the Kalapani as theplace whence the Bhils came; that is to say, some place in Europe. SomeOrientalists, especially Colonel Tod, seek to prove that the Rajputs, who conquered the Bhils, were newcomers of Scythian origin, and thatthe Bhils are the true aborigines. To prove this, they put forward somefeatures common to both peoples, Rajput and Scythian, for instance (1)the worship of the sword, the lance, the shield and the horse; (2) theworship of, and the sacrifice to, the sun (which, as far as I know, never was worshiped by the Scythians); (3) the passion of gambling(which again is as strong amongst the Chinese and the Japanese); (4)the custom of drinking blood out of the skull of an enemy (which is alsopractised by some aborigines of America), etc. , etc. 

I do not intend entering here on a scientific ethnological discussion;and, besides, I am sure no one fails to see that the reasoning ofscientists sometimes takes a very strange turn when they set to provesome favorite theory of theirs. It is enough to remember how entangledand obscure is the history of the ancient Scythians to abstain fromdrawing any positive conclusions whatsoever from it. The tribes that gounder one general denomination of Scythians were many, and still it isimpossible to deny that there is a good deal of similitude between thecustoms of the old Scandinavians, worshipers of Odin, whose land indeedwas occupied by the Scythians more than five hundred years B. C. And thecustoms of the Rajputs. But this similitude gives as much right to theRajputs to say that we are a colony of Surya-vansas settled in the Westas to us to maintain that the Rajputs are the descendants of Scythianswho emigrated to the East. The Scythians of Herodotus and the Scythiansof Ptolemy, and some other classical writers, are two perfectly distinctnationalities. Under Scythia, Herodotus means the extension of land fromthe mouth of Danube to the Sea of Azoff, according to Niebuhr; and tothe mouth of Don, according to Rawlinson; whereas the Scythia of Ptolemyis a country strictly Asiatic, including the whole space between theriver Volga and Serika, or China. Besides this, Scythia was divided bythe western Himalayas, which the Roman writers call Imaus, into Scythiaintra Imaum, and Scythia extra Imaum. Given this lack of precision, the Rajputs may be called the Scythians of Asia, and the Scythiansthe Rajputs of Europe, with the same degree of likelihood. Pinkerton'sopinion is that European contempt for the Tartars would not be halfso strong if the European public learned how closely we are relatedto them; that our forefathers came from northern Asia, and that ourprimitive customs, laws and mode of living were the same as theirs; ina word, that we are nothing but a Tartar colony. .. Cimbri, Kelts andGauls, who conquered the northern part of Europe, are different names ofthe same tribe, whose origin is Tartary. Who were the Goths, the Swedes, the Vandals, the Huns and the Franks, if not separate swarms of the samebeehive? The annals of Sweden point to Kashgar as the fatherland ofthe Swedes. The likeness between the languages of the Saxons and theKipchak-Tartars is striking; and the Keltic, which still exists inBrittany and in Wales, is the best proof that their inhabitants aredescendants of the Tartar nation. 

Whatever Pinkerton and others may say, the modern Rajput warriors donot answer in the least the description Hippocrates gives us of theScythians. The "father of medicine" says: "The bodily structure of thesemen is thick, coarse and stunted; their joints are weak and flabby; theyhave almost no hair, and each of them resembles the other. " No man, who has seen the handsome, gigantic warriors of Rajistan, with theirabundant hair and beards, will ever recognize this portrait drawn byHippocrates as theirs. Besides, the Scythians, whoever they may be, buried their dead, which the Rajputs never did, judging by the recordsof their most ancient MSS. The Scythians were a wandering nation, andare described by Hesiod as "living in covered carts and feeding onmare's milk. " And the Rajputs have been a sedentary people from timeimmemorial, inhabiting towns, and having their history at least severalhundred years before Christ--that is to say, earlier than the epoch ofHerodotus. They do celebrate the Ashvamedha, the horse sacrifice; butwill not touch mare's milk, and despise all Mongolians. Herodotus saysthat the Scythians, who called themselves Skoloti, hated foreigners, andnever let any stranger in their country; and the Rajputs are one ofthe most hospitable peoples of the world. In the epoch of the wars ofDarius, 516 B. C. , the Scythians were still in their own district, aboutthe mouth of the Danube. And at the same epoch the Rajputs were alreadyknown in India and had their own kingdom. As to the Ashvamedha, whichColonel Tod thinks to be the chief illustration of his theory, thecustom of killing horses in honor of the sun is mentioned in theRig-Veda, as well as in the Aitareya-Brahmana. Martin Haug states thatthe latter has probably been in existence since 2000-2400 B. C. ----

But it strikes me that the digression from the Babu's chum to theScythians and the Rajputs of the antediluvian epoch threatens to becometoo long, so I beg the reader's pardon and resume the thread of mynarrative. 

The Banns Of Marriage

Next day, early in the morning, the local shikaris went under theleadership of the warlike Akali, to hunt glamoured and real tigersin the caves. It took them longer than we expected. The old Bhil, whorepresented to us the absent dhani, proposed that in the meanwhilewe should witness a Brahmanical wedding ceremony. Needless to say, we jumped at this. The ceremonies of betrothal and marriage have notchanged in India during the last two millenniums at least. They areperformed according to the directions of Manu, and the old theme hasno new variations. India's religious rites have crystallized long ago. Whoever has seen a Hindu wedding in 1879, saw it as it was celebrated inancient Aryavarta many centuries ago. ----

A few days before we left Bombay we read in a small local newspaper twoannouncements of marriages: the first the marriage of a Brahman heiress, the second of a daughter of the fire-worshipers. The first announcementwas something to the following effect: "The family of Bimbay Mavlankar, etc. , etc. , are preparing for a happy event. This respectable memberof our community, unlike the rest of the less fortunate Brahmans ofhis caste, has found a husband for his grand-daughter in a rich Gujeratfamily of the same caste. The little Rama-bai is already five, herfuture husband is seven. The wedding is to take place in two months andpromises to be brilliant. "

The second announcement referred to an accomplished fact. It appearedin a Parsi paper, which strongly insists on the necessity of giving up"disgusting superannuated customs, " and especially the early marriage. It justly ridiculed a certain Gujerati newspaper, which had justdescribed in very pompous expressions a recent wedding ceremony inPoona. The bridegroom, who had just entered his sixth year "pressed tohis heart a blushing bride of two and a half!" The usual answers of thiscouple entering into matrimony proved so indistinct that the Mobed hadto address the questions to their parents: "Are you willing to have himfor your lawful husband, O daughter of Zaratushta?" and "Are you willingto be her husband, O son of Zoroaster?" "Everything went as well as itcould be expected, " continued the newspaper; "the bridegroom was led outof the room by the hand, and the bride, who was carried away in arms, greeted the guests, not with smiles, but with a tremendous howl, whichmade her forget the existence of such a thing as a pocket-handkerchief, and remember only her feeding-bottle; for the latter article she askedrepeatedly, half choked with sobs, and throttled with the weight of thefamily diamonds. Taking it all in all, it was a Parsi marriage, whichshows the progress of our speedily developing nation with the exactitudeof a weather glass, " added the satirical newspaper. 

Having read this we laughed heartily, though we did not give full creditto this description, and thought it a good deal exaggerated. We knewParsi and Brahman families in which were husbands of ten years ofage; but had never heard as yet of a bride who was a baby inarms. ----

It is not without reason that the Brahmans are fervent upholders ofthe ancient law which prohibits to everyone, except the officiatingBrahmans, the study of Sanskrit and the reading of the Vedas. TheShudras and even the high-born Vaishyas were in olden times to beexecuted for such an offence. The secret of this rigour lies in the factthat the Vedas do not permit matrimony for women under fifteen to twentyyears of age, and for men under twenty-five, or even thirty. Eagerabove all that every religious ceremony should fill their pockets, theBrahmans never stopped at disfiguring their ancient sacred literature;and not to be caught, they pronounced its study accursed. Amongst other"criminal inventions, " to use the expression of Swami Dayanand, there isa text in the Brahmanical books, which contradicts everything that isto be found in the Vedas on this particular matter: I speak of the KudvaKunbis, the wedding season of all the agricultural classes of CentralAsia. This season is to be celebrated once in every twelve years, butit appears to be a field from which Messieurs les Brahmans gatheredthe most abundant harvest. At this epoch, all the mothers have to seekaudiences from the goddess Mata, the great mother--of course through herrightful oracles the Brahmans. Mata is the special patroness of all thefour kinds of marriages practised in India: the marriages of adults, ofchildren, of babies, and of specimens of humanity that are as yet to beborn. 

The latter is the queerest of all, because the feelings it excites areso very like gambling. In this case, the marriage ceremony is celebratedbetween the mothers of the future children. Many a curious incident isthe result of these matrimonial parodies. But a true Brahman willnever allow the derision of fate to shake his dignity, and the docilepopulation never will doubt the infallibility of these "elect of thegods. " An open antagonism to the Brahmanical institutions is morethan rare; the feelings of reverence and dread the masses show to theBrahmans are so blind and so sincere, that an outsider cannot helpsmiling at them and respecting them at the same time. 

If both the mothers have children of the same sex, it will not upset theBrahman in the least; he will say this was the will of the goddess Mata, it shows that she desires the new-born babies to be two loving brothers, or two loving sisters, as the case may be, in future. And if thechildren grow up, they will be acknowledged heirs to the properties ofboth mothers. In this case, the Brahman breaks the bonds of the marriageby the order of the goddess, is paid for doing so, and the whole affairis dropped altogether. But if the children are of different sexes thesebonds cannot be broken, even if they are born cripples or idiots. 

While I am dealing with the family life of India, I had better mentionsome other features, not to return to them any more. No Hindu has theright to remain single. The only exceptions are, in case the child isdestined to monastic life from the first days of his existence, and incase the child is consecrated to the service of one of the gods of theTrimurti even before he is born. Religion insists on matrimony for thesake of having a son, whose duty it will be to perform every prescribedrite, in order that his departed father may enter Swarga, or paradise. Even the caste of Brahmacharyas, who take vows of chastity, but take apart and interest in worldly life--and so are the unique lay-celibatesof India--are bound to adopt sons. The rest of the Hindus must remainin matrimony till the age of forty; after which they earn the right toleave the world, and to seek salvation, leading an ascetic life in somejungle. If a member of some Hindu family happens to be afflicted frombirth with some organic defect, this will not be an impediment to hismarrying, on the condition that his wife should be also a cripple, ifshe belongs to the same caste. The defects of husband and wife must bedifferent: if he is blind, she must be hump-backed or lame, and viceversa. But if the young man in question is prejudiced, and wants ahealthy wife, he must condescend to make a mesalliance; he must stoop tochoose a wife in a caste that is exactly one degree lower than his own. But in this case his kinsmen and associates will not acknowledge her;the parvenue will not be received on any conditions whatever. Besides, all these exceptional instances depend entirely on the family Guru--onthe priest who is inspired by the gods. 

All the above holds good as far as the men are concerned; but with thewomen it is quite different. 

Only the nautches--dancing girls consecrated to gods, and livingin temples--can be said to be free and happy. Their occupation ishereditary, but they are vestals and daughters of vestals, howeverstrange this may sound to a European ear. But the notions of the Hindus, especially on questions of morality, are quite independent, and evenanti-Western, if I may use this expression. No one is more severeand exacting in the questions of feminine honor and chastity; but theBrahmans proved to be more cunning than even the Roman augurs. RheaSylvia, for instance, the mother of Romulus and Remus, was buried aliveby the ancient Romans, in spite of the god Mars taking an active part inher faux pas. Numa and Tiberius took exceedingly good care that the goodmorals of their priestesses should not become merely nominal. But thevestals on the banks of the Ganges and the Indus understand the questiondifferently from those on the banks of the Tiber. The intimacy of thenautch-girls with the gods, which is generally accepted, cleanses themfrom every sin and makes them in every one's eyes irreproachableand infallible. A nautcha cannot sin, in spite of the crowd of the"celestial musicians" who swarm in every pagoda, in the form ofbaby-vestals and their little brothers. No virtuous Roman matron wasever so respected as the pretty little nautcha. This great reverencefor the happy "brides of the gods" is especially striking in the purelynative towns of Central India, where the population has preserved intacttheir blind faith in the Brahmans. 

Every nautcha can read, and receives the highest Hindu education. Theyall read and write in Sanskrit, and study the best literature of ancientIndia, and her six chief philosophies, but especially music, singing anddancing. Besides these "godborn" priestesses of the pagodas, there arealso public nautches, who, like the Egyptian almeas, are within thereach of ordinary mortals, not only of gods; they also are in most caseswomen of a certain culture. 

But the fate of an honest woman of Hindostan is quite different; and abitter and incredibly unjust fate it is. The life of a thoroughly goodwoman, especially if she happens to possess warm faith and unshakenpiety, is simply a long chain of fatal misfortunes. And the higher herfamily and social position, the more wretched is her life. Married womenare so afraid of resembling the professional dancing girls, that theycannot be persuaded to learn anything the latter are taught. If aBrahman woman is rich her life is spent in demoralizing idleness; ifshe is poor, so much the worse, her earthly existence is concentratedin monotonous performances of mechanical rites. There is no past, and nofuture for her; only a tedious present, from which there is no possibleescape. And this only if everything be well, if her family be notvisited by sad losses. Needless to say that, amongst Brahman women, marriage is not a question of free choice, and still less of affection. Her choice of a husband is restricted by the caste to which her fatherand mother happen to belong; and so, to find a suitable match for a girlis a matter of great difficulty, as well as of great expense. In India, the high-caste woman is not bought, but she has to buy the right to getmarried. Accordingly, the birth of a girl is not a joy, but a sorrow, especially if her parents are not rich. She must be married not laterthan when she is seven or eight; a little girl of ten is an old maid inIndia, she is a discredit to her parents and is the miser-able butt ofall her more fortunate contemporaries. 

One of the few noble achievements of Englishmen in India which havesucceeded is the decrease of infanticide, which some time ago was adaily practice, and still is not quite got rid of. Little girls werekilled by their parents everywhere in India; but this dreadful customwas especially common amongst the tribes of Jadej, once so powerful inSindh, and now reduced to petty brigandage. Probably these tribes werethe first to spread this heartless practice. Obligatory marriage forlittle girls is a comparatively recent invention, and it alone isresponsible for the parents' decision rather to see them dead thanunmarried. The ancient Aryans knew nothing of it. Even the ancientBrahmanical literature shows that, amongst the pure Aryans, womanenjoyed the same privileges as man. Her voice was listened to by thestatesmen; she was free either to choose a husband, or to remain single. Many a woman's name plays an important part in the chronicles of theancient Aryan land; many women have come down to posterity as eminentpoets, astronomers, philosophers, and even sages and lawyers. 

But with the invasion of the Persians, in the seventh century, and lateron of the fanatical, all-destroying Mussulmans, all this changed. Womanbecame enslaved, and the Brahmans did everything to humiliate her. In towns, the position of the Hindu woman is still worse than amongstagricultural classes. 

The wedding ceremonies are very complicated and numerous. They aredivided into three groups: the rites before the wedding; the ritesduring the ceremony; and the rites after the celebration has takenplace. The first group consists of eleven ceremonies: the asking inmarriage; the comparison of the two horoscopes; the sacrifice of a goat;the fixing of a propitious day; the building of the altar; the purchaseof the sacred pots for household use; the invitation of guests; thesacrifices to the household gods; mutual presents and so on. All thismust be accomplished as a religious duty, and is full of entangledrites. As soon as a little girl in some Hindu family is four years old, her father and mother send for the family Guru, give him her horoscope, drawn up previously by the astrologer of their caste (a very importantpost), and send the Guru to this or that inhabitant of the place who isknown to have a son of appropriate age. The father of the little boy hasto put the horoscope on the altar before the family gods and to answer:"I am well disposed towards the Panigrhana; let Rudra help us. " The Gurumust ask when the union is to take place, after which he is bowed out. A few days later the father of the little boy takes the horoscope of hisson as well as of the little girl to the chief astrologer. If the latterfinds them propitious to the intended marriage, it will take place; ifnot, his decision is immediately sent to the father of the littlegirl, and the whole affair is dropped. If the astrologer's opinion isfavorable, however, the bargain is concluded on the spot. The astrologeroffers a cocoa-nut and a handful of sugar to the father, after whichnothing can be altered; otherwise a Hindu vendetta will be handed downfrom generation to generation. After the obligatory goat-sacrifice, thecouple are irrevocably betrothed, and the astrologer fixes the day ofthe wedding. 

The sacrifice of the goat is very interesting, so I am going to describeit in detail. 

A child of the male sex is sent to invite several married ladies, oldwomen of twenty or twenty-five, to witness the worship of the Lares andPenates. Each family has a household goddess of its own--which is notimpossible, since the Hindu gods number thirty-three crores. On the eveof the sacrificial day, a kid is brought into the house, and all thefamily sleep round him. Next morning, the reception hall in the lowerstory is made ready for the ceremony. The floor is thickly covered withcow-dung, and, right in the middle of the room a square is traced withwhite chalk, in which is placed a high pedestal, with the statue of thegoddess. The patriarch of the family brings the goat, and, holding himby the horns, lowers his head to salute the goddess. After this, the"old" and young women sing marriage hymns, tie the legs of the goat, cover his head with red powder, and make a lamp smoke under his nose, to banish the evil spirits from round him. When all this is done, thefemale element puts itself out of the way, and the patriarch comes againupon the stage. He treacherously puts a ration of rice before the goat, and as soon as the victim becomes innocently absorbed in gratifying hisappetite, the old man chops his head off with a single stroke of hissword, and bathes the goddess in the smoking blood coming from the headof the animal, which he holds in his right arm, over the idol. The womensing in chorus, and the ceremony of betrothal is over. 

The ceremonies with the astrologers, and the exchange of presents, are too long to be described. I shall mention only, that in all theseceremonies the astrologer plays the double part of an augur and a familylawyer. After a general invocation to the elephant-headed god Ganesha, the marriage contract is written on the reverse of the horoscopes andsealed, and a general blessing is pronounced over the assembly. 

Needless to say that all these ceremonies had been accomplished long agoin the family to whose marriage party we were invited in Bagh. All theserites are sacred, and most probably we, being mere strangers, wouldnot have been allowed to witness them. We saw them all later on inBenares--thanks to the intercession of our Babu. 

When we arrived on the spot, where the Bagh cere-mony was celebrated, the festivity was at its height. The bridegroom was not more thanfourteen years old, while the bride was only ten. Her small nose wasadorned with a huge golden ring with some very brilliant stone, whichdragged her nostril down. Her face looked comically piteous, andsometimes she cast furtive glances at us. The bridegroom, a stout, healthy-looking boy, attired in cloth of gold and wearing the manystoried Indra hat, was on horseback, surrounded by a whole crowd of malerelations. 

The altar, especially erected for this occasion, presented a queersight. Its regulation height is three times the length of the bride'sarm from the shoulder down to the middle finger. Its materials arebricks and white-washed clay. Forty-six earthen pots painted withred, yellow and green stripes--the colors of the Trimurti--rose in twopyramids on both sides of the "god of marriages" on the altar, and allround it a crowd of little married girls were busy grinding ginger. When it was reduced to powder the whole crowd rushed on the bridegroom, dragged him from his horse, and, having undressed him, began rubbing himwith wet ginger. As soon as the sun dried him he was dressed again bysome of the little ladies, whilst one part of them sang and the othersprinkled his head with water from lotus leaves twisted into tubes. Weunderstood that this was a delicate attention to the water gods. 

We were also told that the whole of the previous night had been given upto the worship of various spirits. The last rites, begun weeks ago, were hurriedly brought to an end during this last night. Invocations toGanesha, to the god of marriages; to the gods of the elements, water, fire, air and earth; to the goddess of the smallpox and other illnesses;to the spirits of ancestors and planetary spirits, to the evil spirits, good spirits, family spirits, and so on, and so on. Suddenly our earswere struck by strains of music. .. . Good heavens! what a dreadfulsymphony it was! The ear-splitting sounds of Indian tom-toms, Tibetandrunis, Singalese pipes, Chinese trumpets, and Burmese gongs deafened uson all sides, awakening in our souls hatred for humanity and humanity'sinventions. 

"De tous les bruits du monde celui de la musique est le plusdesagreable!" was my ever-recurring thought. Happily, this agony didnot last long, and was replaced by the choral singing of Brahmans andnautches, which was very original, but perfectly bearable. The weddingwas a rich one, and so the "vestals" appeared in state. A moment ofsilence, of restrained whispering, and one of them, a tall, handsomegirl with eyes literally filling half her forehead, began approachingone guest after the other in perfect silence, and rubbing their faceswith her hand, leaving traces of sandal and saffron powders. She glidedtowards us also, noiselessly moving over the dusty road with her barefeet; and before we realized what she was doing she had daubed me aswell as the colonel and Miss X----, which made the latter sneeze andwipe her face for at least ten minutes, with loud but vain utterances ofindignation. 

The Babu and Mulji offered their faces to the little hand, full ofsaffron, with smiles of condescending generosity. But the indomitableNarayan shrank from the vestal so unexpectedly at the precise momentwhen, with fiery glances at him, she stood on tiptoe to reach his face, that she quite lost countenance and sent a full dose of powder over hisshoulder, whilst he turned away from her with knitted brow. Her foreheadalso showed several threatening lines, but in a moment she overcame heranger and glided towards Ram-Runjit-Das, sparkling with engagingsmiles. But here she met with still less luck; offended at once in hismonotheism and his chastity, the "God's warrior" pushed the vestal sounceremoniously that she nearly upset the elaborate pot-decoration ofthe altar. A dissatisfied murmur ran through the crowd, and we werepreparing to be condemned to shameful banishment for the sins of thewarlike Sikh, when the drums sounded again and the procession movedon. In front of everyone drove the trumpeters and the drummers in a cargilded from top to bottom, and dragged by bullocks loaded with garlandsof flowers; next after them walked a whole detachment of pipers, andthen a third body of musicians on horseback, who frantically hammeredhuge gongs. After them proceeded the cortege of the bridegroom's andthe bride's relations on horses adorned with rich harness, feathers andflowers; they went in pairs. They were followed by a regiment of Bhilsin full disarmour--because no weapons but bows and arrows had been leftto them by the English Government. All these Bhils looked as if they hadtooth-ache, because of the odd way they have of arranging the ends oftheir white pagris. After them walked clerical Brahmans, with aromatictapers in their hands and surrounded by the flitting battalion ofnautches, who amused themselves all the way by graceful glissades andpas. They were followed by the lay Brahmans--the "twice born. " Thebridegroom rode on a handsome horse; on both sides walked two couplesof warriors, armed with yaks' tails to wave the flies away. Theywere accompanied by two more men on each side with silver fans. Thebridegroom's group was wound up by a naked Brahman, perched on a donkeyand holding over the head of the boy a huge red silk umbrella. After hima car loaded with a thousand cocoa-nuts and a hundred bamboo baskets, tied together by a red rope. The god who looks after marriages drove inmelancholy isolation on the vast back of an elephant, whose mahoutled him by a chain of flowers. Our humble party modestly advanced justbehind the elephant's tail. 

The performance of rites on the way seemed endless. 

We had to stop before every tree, every pagoda, every sacred tank andbush, and at last before a sacred cow. When we came back to the houseof the bride it was four in the afternoon, and we had started a littleafter six in the morning. We all were utterly exhausted, and Miss X----literally threatened to fall asleep on her feet. The indignant Sikhhad left us long ago, and had persuaded Mr. Y---- and Mulji--whom thecolonel had nicknamed the "mute general"--to keep him company. Ourrespected president was bathed in his own perspiration, and even Narayanthe unchangeable yawned and sought consolation in a fan. But the Babuwas simply astonishing. After a nine hours' walk under the sun, with hishead unprotected, he looked fresher than ever, without a drop of sweaton his dark satin-like forehead. He showed his white teeth in an eternalsmile, and chaffed us all, reciting the "Diamond Wedding" of Steadman. 

We struggled against our fatigue in our desire to wit-ness the lastceremony, after which the woman is forever cut off from the externalworld. It was just going to begin; and we kept our eyes and ears wideopen. 

The bridegroom and the bride were placed before the altar. Theofficiating Brahman tied their hands with some kus-kus grass, and ledthem three times round the altar. Then their hands were untied, and theBrahman mumbled a mantram. When he had finished, the boy husband liftedhis diminutive bride and carried her three times round the altar in hisarms, then again three turns round the altar, but the boy preceding thegirl, and she following him like an obedient slave. When this was over, the bridegroom was placed on a high chair by the entrance door, and thebride brought a basin of water, took off his shoes, and, having washedhis feet, wiped them with her long hair. We learned that this was a veryancient custom. On the right side of the bridegroom sat his mother. Thebride knelt before her also, and, having performed the same operationover her feet, she retired to the house. Then her mother came out of thecrowd and repeated the same ceremony, but without using her hair as atowel. The young couple were married. The drums and the tom-toms rolledonce more; and half-deaf we started for home. ----

In the tent we found the Akali in the middle of a sermon, delivered forthe edification of the "mute general" and Mr. Y----. He was explainingto them the advantages of the Sikh religion, and comparing it with thefaith of the "devil-worshipers, " as he called the Brahmans. 

It was too late to go to the caves, and, besides, we had had enoughsights for one day. So we sat down to rest, and to listen to the wordsof wisdom falling from the lips of the "God's warrior. " In my humbleopinion, he was right in more than one thing; in his most imaginativemoments Satan himself could not have invented anything more unjustand more refinedly cruel than what was invented by these "twice-born"egotists in their relation to the weaker sex. An unconditioned civildeath awaits her in case of widowhood--even if this sad fate befallsher when she is two or three years old. It is of no importance for theBrahmans if the marriage never actually took place; the goat sacrifice, at which the personal presence of the little girl is not evenrequired--she being represented by the wretched victim--is consideredbinding for her. As for the man, not only is he permitted to haveseveral lawful wives at a time, but he is even required by the law tomarry again if his wife dies. Not to be unjust, I must mention that, with the exception of some vicious and depraved Rajas, we never heardof a Hindu availing himself of this privilege, and having more than onewife. 

At the present time, the whole of orthodox India is shaken by thestruggle in favor of the remarriage of widows. This agitation was begunin Bombay, by a few reformers, and opponents of Brahmans. It is alreadyten years since Mulji-Taker-Sing and others raised this question; butwe know only of three or four men who have dared as yet to marry widows. This struggle is carried on in silence and secrecy, but nevertheless itis fierce and obstinate. 

In the meanwhile, the fate of the widow is what the Brahmans wish it tobe. As soon as the corpse of her husband is burned the widow must shaveher head, and never let it grow again as long as she lives. Her bangles, necklaces and rings are broken to pieces and burned, together with herhair and her husband's remains. During the rest of her life she mustwear nothing but white if she was less than twenty-five at her husband'sdeath, and red if she was older. Temples, religious ceremonies, society, are closed to her for ever. She has no right to speak to any of herrelations, and no right to eat with them. She sleeps, eats and worksseparately; her touch is considered impure for seven years. If a man, going out on business, meets a widow, he goes home again, abandoningevery pursuit, because to see a widow is accounted an evil omen. 

In the past all this was seldom practised, and concerned only the richwidows, who refused to be burned; but now, since the Brahmans havebeen caught in the false interpretation of the Vedas, with the criminalintention of appropriating the widows' wealth, they insist on thefulfilment of this cruel precept, and make what once was the exceptionthe rule. They are powerless against British law, and so they revengethemselves on the innocent and helpless women, whom fate has deprived oftheir natural protectors. Professor Wilson's demonstration of the meansby which the Brahmans distorted the sense of the Vedas, in order tojustify the practice of widow-burning, is well worth mentioning. Duringthe many centuries that this terrible practice prevailed, the Brahmanshad appealed to a certain Vedic text for their justification, and hadclaimed to be rigidly fulfilling the institutes of Manu, which containfor them the interpretation of Vedic law. When the East India Company'sGovernment first turned its attention to the suppression of suttee, the whole country, from Cape Comorin to the Himalayas, rose in protest, under the influence of the Brahmans. "The English promised not tointerfere in our religious affairs, and they must keep their word!" wasthe general outcry. Never was India so near revolution as in those days. The English saw the danger and gave up the task. But Professor Wilson, the best Sanskritist of the time, did not consider the battle lost. Heapplied himself to the study of the most ancient MSS. , and graduallybecame convinced that the alleged precept did not exist in theVedas; though in the Laws of Manu it was quite distinct, and had beentranslated accordingly by T. Colebrooke and other Orientalists. Anattempt to prove to the fanatic population that Manu's interpretationwas wrong would have been equivalent to an attempt to reduce water topowder. So Wilson set himself to study Manu, and to compare the text ofthe Vedas with the text of this law-giver. This was the result of hislabors: the Rig Veda orders the Brahman to place the widow side by sidewith the corpse, and then, after the performance of certain rites, tolead her down from the funeral pyre and to sing the following verse fromGrhya Sutra:

 Arise, O woman! return to the world of the living! Having gone to sleep by the dead, awake again! Long enough thou hast been a faithful wife To the one who made thee mother of his children. 

Then those present at the burning were to rub their eyes with collyrium, and the Brahman to address to them the following verse:

 Approach, you married women, not widows, With your husbands bring ghi and butter. Let the mothers go up to the womb first, Dressed in festive garments and costly adornments. 

The line before the last was misinterpreted by the Brahmans in the mostskillful way. In Sanskrit it reads as follows:

 Arohantu janayo yonim agre. .. .. 

Yonina agre literally means to the womb first. Having changed onlyone letter of the last word agre, "first, " in Sanskrit [script], theBrahmans wrote instead agneh, "fire's, " in Sanskrit [script], and soacquired the right to send the wretched widows yonina agneh--to the wombof fire. It is difficult to find on the face of the world another suchfiendish deception. 

The Vedas never permitted the burning of the widows, and there is aplace in Taittiriya-Aranyaka, of the Yajur Veda, where the brother ofthe deceased, or his disciple, or even a trusted friend, is recommendedto say to the widow, whilst the pyre is set on fire: "Arise, O woman! donot lie down any more beside the lifeless corpse; return to the worldof the living, and become the wife of the one who holds you by the hand, and is willing to be your husband. " This verse shows that during theVedic period the remarriage of widows was allowed. Besides, in severalplaces in the ancient books, pointed out to us by Swami Dayanand, wefound orders to the widows "to keep the ashes of the husband for severalmonths after his death and to perform over them certain final rituals. "

However, in spite of the scandal created by Professor Wilson'sdiscovery, and of the fact that the Brahmans were put to shame beforethe double authority of the Vedas and of Manu, the custom of centuriesproved so strong that some pious Hindu women still burn themselveswhenever they can. Not more than two years ago the four widows ofYung-Bahadur, the chief minister of Nepal, insisted upon being burned. Nepal is not under the British rule, and so the Anglo-Indian Governmenthad no right to interfere. 

The Caves Of Bagh

At four o'clock in the morning we crossed the Vagrey and Girna, orrather, comme coloris local, Shiva and Parvati. Probably, following thebad example of the average mortal husband and wife, this divine couplewere engaged in a quarrel, even at this early hour of the day. They werefrightfully rough, and our ferry, striking on something at the bottom, nearly upset us into the cold embrace of the god and his irate betterhalf. 

Like all the cave temples of India, the Bagh caverns are dug out in themiddle of a vertical rock--with the intention, as it seems to me, oftesting the limits of human patience. Taking into consideration thatsuch a height does not prevent either glamour or tigers reaching thecaves, I cannot help thinking that the sole aim of the asceticbuilders was to tempt weak mortals into the sin of irritation by theinaccessibility of their airy abodes. Seventy-two steps, cut out in therock, and covered with thorny weeds and moss, are the beginning of theascent to the Bagh caves. Footmarks worn in the stone through centuriesspoke of the numberless pilgrims who had come here before us. Theroughness of the steps, with deep holes here and there, and thorns, added attractions to this ascent; join to this a number of mountainsprings exuding through the pores of the stone, and no one will beastonished if I say that we simply felt faint under the weight oflife and our archeological difficulties. The Babu, who, taking off hisslippers, scampered over the thorns as unconcernedly as if he had hoofsinstead of vulnerable human heels, laughed at the "helplessness ofEuropeans, " and only made us feel worse. 

But on reaching the top of the mountain we stopped grumbling, realizingat the first glance that we should receive our reward. We saw a wholeenfilade of dark caves, through regular square openings, six feet wide. We felt awestruck with the gloomy majesty of this deserted temple. Therewas a curious ceiling over the square platform that once served as averandah; there was also a portico with broken pillars hanging overour heads; and two rooms on each side, one with a broken image of someflat-nosed goddess, the other containing a Ganesha; but we did notstop to examine all this in detail. Ordering the torches to be lit, westepped into the first hall. 

A damp breath as of the tomb met us. At our first word we all shivered:a hollow, prolonged echoing howl, dying away in the distance, shookthe ancient vaults and made us all lower our voices to a whisper. Thetorch-bearers shrieked "Devi!. .. Devi!. .. " and, kneeling in the dust, performed a fervent puja in honor of the voice of the invisible goddessof the caves, in spite of the angry protestations of Narayan and of the"God's warrior. "

The only light of the temple came from the entrance, and so two-thirdsof it looked still gloomier by contrast. This hall, or the centraltemple, is very spacious, eighty--four feet square, and sixteen feethigh. Twenty-four massive pillars form a square, six pillars at eachside, including the corner ones, and four in the middle to prop up thecentre of the ceiling; otherwise it could not be kept from falling, as the mass of the mountain which presses on it from the top is muchgreater than in Karli or Elephanta. 

There are at least three different styles in the architecture ofthese pillars. Some of them are grooved in spirals, gradually andimperceptibly changing from round to sixteen sided, then octagonal andsquare. Others, plain for the first third of their height, graduallyfinished under the ceiling by a most elaborate display of ornamentation, which reminds one of the Corinthian style. The third with a squareplinth and semi-circular friezes. Taking it all in all, they made a mostoriginal and graceful picture. Mr. Y----, an architect by profession, assured us that he never saw anything more striking. He said he couldnot imagine by the aid of what instruments the ancient builders couldaccomplish such wonders. 

The construction of the Bagh caves, as well as of all the cave templesof India, whose history is lost in the darkness of time, is ascribed bythe European archeologists to the Buddhists, and by the native traditionto the Pandu brothers. Indian paleography protests in every one of itsnew discoveries against the hasty conclusions of the Orientalists. And much may be said against the intervention of Buddhists in thisparticular case. But I shall indicate only one particular. The theorywhich declares that all the cave temples of India are of Buddhist originis wrong. The Orientalists may insist as much as they choose on thehypothesis that the Buddhists became again idol-worshipers; it willexplain nothing, and contradicts the history of both Buddhists andBrahmans. The Brahmans began persecuting and banishing the Buddhistsprecisely because they had begun a crusade against idol-worship. Thefew Buddhist communities who remained in India and deserted the pure, though, maybe--for a shallow observer--somewhat atheistic teachingsof Gautama Siddhartha, never joined Brahmanism, but coalesced with theJainas, and gradually became absorbed in them. Then why not suppose thatif, amongst hundreds of Brahmanical gods, we find one statue of Buddha, it only shows that the masses of half-converts to Buddhism added thisnew god to the ancient Brahmanical temple. This would be much moresensible than to think that the Buddhists of the two centuries beforeand after the beginning of the Christian era dared to fill their templeswith idols, in defiance of the spirit of the reformer Gau-tama. Thefigures of Buddha are easily discerned in the swarm of heathen gods;their position is always the same, and the palm of its right hand isalways turned upwards, blessing the worshipers with two fingers. Weexamined almost every remarkable vihara of the so-called Buddhisttemples, and never met with one statue of Buddha which could not havebeen added in a later epoch than the construction of the temple; it doesnot matter whether it was a year or a thousand years later. Not beingperfectly self-confident in this matter, we always took the opinion ofMr. Y----, who, as I said before, was an experienced architect; and heinvariably came to the conclusion that the Brahmanical idols formed aharmonic and genuine part of the whole, pillars, decorations, andthe general style of the temple; whereas the statue of Buddha was anadditional and discordant patch. Out of thirty or forty caves of Ellora, all filled with idols, there is only one, the one called the Templeof the Tri-Lokas, which contains nothing but statues of Buddha, andof Ananda, his favourite disciple. Of course, in this case it would beperfectly right to think it is a Buddhist vihara. 

Most probably, some of the Russian archeologists will protest againstthe opinions I maintain, that is to say, the opinions of the Hinduarcheologists, and will treat me as an ignoramus, outraging science. Inself-defence, and in order to show how unstable a ground to base one'sopinions upon are the conclusions even of such a great authority as Mr. Fergusson, I must mention the following instance. This great architect, but very mediocre archeologist, proclaimed at the very beginning ofhis scientific career that "all the cave temples of Kanara, withoutexception, were built between the fifth and the tenth centuries. " Thistheory became generally accepted, when suddenly Dr. Bird found a brassplate in a certain Kanara monument, called a tope. The plate announcedin pure and distinct Sanskrit that this tope was erected as a homageto the old temple, at the beginning of 245 of the Hindu astronomical(Samvat) era. According to Prinsep and Dr. Stevenson, this datecoincides with 189 A. D. , and so it clearly settles the question of whenthe tope was built. But the question of the antiquity of the templeitself still remains open, though the inscription states that it wasan old temple in 189 A. D. , and contradicts the above-quoted opinion ofFergusson. However, this important discovery failed to shake Fergusson'sequanimity. For him, ancient inscriptions are of no importance, because, as he says, "the antiquity of ruins must not be fixed on the basisof inscriptions, but on the basis of certain architectural canons andrules, " discovered by Mr. Fergusson in person. Fiat hypothesis, ruatcoelum!

And now I shall return to my narrative. 

Straight before the entrance a door leads to another hall, which isoblong, with hexagonal pillars and niches, containing statues in atolerable state of preservation; goddesses ten feet and gods nine feethigh. After this hall there is a room with an altar, which is a regularhexagon, having sides each three feet long, and protected by a cupolacut in the rock. Nobody was admitted here, except the initiates of themysteries of the adytum. All round this room there are about twentypriests' cells. Absorbed in the examination of the altar, we did notnotice the absence of the colonel, till we heard his loud voice in thedistance calling to us:

"I have found a secret passage. .. . Come along, let us find where itleads to!"

Torch in hand, the colonel was far ahead of us, and very eager toproceed; but each of us had a little plan of his own, and so we werereluctant to obey his summons. The Babu took upon himself to answer forthe whole party:

"Take care, colonel. This passage leads to the den of the glamour. .. . Mind the tigers!"

But once fairly started on the way to discoveries, our president was notto be stopped. Nolens volens we followed him. 

He was right; he had made a discovery; and on entering the cell we sawa most unexpected tableau. By the opposite wall stood two torch-bearerswith their flaming torches, as motionless as if they were transformedinto stone caryatides; and from the wall, about five feet above theground, protruded two legs clad in white trousers. There was no body tothem; the body had disappeared, and but that the legs were shaken bya convulsive effort to move on, we might have thought that the wickedgoddess of this place had cut the colonel into two halves, and havingcaused the upper half instantly to evaporate, had stuck the lower halfto the wall, as a kind of trophy. 

"What is become of you, Mr. President? Where are you?" were our alarmedquestions. 

Instead of an answer, the legs were convulsed still more violently, and soon disappeared completely, after which we heard the voice of thecolonel, as if coming through a long tube:

"A room. .. A secret cell. .. . Be quick! I see a whole row of rooms. .. . Confound it! my torch is out! Bring some matches and another torch!" Butthis was easier said than done. The torch-bearers refused to go on;as it was, they were already frightened out of their wits. Miss X----glanced with apprehension at the wall thickly covered with soot and thenat her pretty gown. Mr. Y---- sat down on a broken pillar and said hewould go no farther, preferring to have a quiet smoke in the company ofthe timid torch-bearers. 

There were several vertical steps cut in the wall; and on the floor wesaw a large stone of such a curiously irregular shape that it struckme that it could not be natural. The quick-eyed Babu was not long indiscovering its peculiarities, and said he was sure "it was the stopperof the secret passage. " We all hurried to examine the stone mostminutely, and discovered that, though it imitated as closely as possiblethe irregularity of the rock, its under surface bore evident traces ofworkmanship and had a kind of hinge to be easily moved. The hole wasabout three feet high, but not more than two feet wide. 

The muscular "God's warrior" was the first to follow the colonel. He wasso tall that when he stood on a broken pillar the opening came down tothe middle of his breast, and so he had no difficulty in transportinghimself to the upper story. The slender Babu joined him with a singlemonkey-like jump. Then, with the Akali pulling from above and Narayanpushing from below, I safely made the passage, though the narrowness ofthe hole proved most disagreeable, and the roughness of the rockleft considerable traces on my hands. However trying archeologicalexplorations may be for a person afflicted by an unusually finepresence, I felt perfectly confident that with two such Hercules-likehelpers as Narayan and Ram-Runjit-Das the ascent of the Himalayas wouldbe perfectly possible for me. Miss X---- came next, under the escort ofMulji, but Mr. Y---- stayed behind. 

The secret cell was a room of twelve feet square. Straight above theblack hole in the floor there was another in the ceiling, but this timewe did not discover any "stopper. " The cell was perfectly empty withthe exception of black spiders as big as crabs. Our apparition, and especially the bright light of the torches, maddened them;panic-stricken they ran in hundreds over the walls, rushed down, andtumbled on our heads, tearing their thin ropes in their inconsideratehaste. The first movement of Miss X---- was to kill as many as shecould. But the four Hindus protested strongly and unanimously. The oldlady remonstrated in an offended voice:

"I thought that at least you, Mulji, were a reformer, but you are assuperstitious as any idol-worshiper. "

"Above everything I am a Hindu, " answered the "mute general. " "And theHindus, as you know, consider it sinful before nature and before theirown consciences to kill an animal put to flight by the strength of man, be it even poisonous. As to the spiders, in spite of their ugliness, they are perfectly harmless. "

"I am sure all this is because you think you will transmigrate into ablack spider!" she replied, her nostrils trembling with anger. 

"I cannot say I do, " retorted Mulji; "but if all the English ladies areas unkind as you I should rather be a spider than an Englishman. "

This lively answer coming from the usually taciturn Mulji wasso unexpected that we could not help laugh-ing. But to our greatdiscomfiture Miss X---- was seriously angry, and, under pretext ofgiddiness, said she would rejoin Mr. Y---- below. 

Her constant bad spirits were becoming trying for our cosmopolitanlittle party, and so we did not press her to stay. 

As to us we climbed through the second opening, but this time under theleadership of Narayan. He disclosed to us that this place was not new tohim; he had been here before, and confided to us that similar rooms, oneon the top of the other, go up to the summit of the mountain. Then, he said, they take a sudden turn, and descend gradually to a wholeunderground palace, which is sometimes temporarily inhabited. Wishingto leave the world for a while and to spend a few days in isolation, theRaj-Yogis find perfect solitude in this underground abode. Our presidentlooked askance at Narayan through his spectacles, but did not findanything to say. The Hindus also received this information in perfectsilence. 

The second cell was exactly like the first one; we easily discovered thehole in its ceiling, and reached the third cell. There we sat down for awhile. I felt that breathing was becoming difficult to me, but I thoughtI was simply out of breath and tired, and so did not mention to mycompanions that anything was wrong. The passage to the fourth cell wasalmost stopped by earth mixed with little stones, and the gentlemen ofthe party were busy clearing it out for about twenty minutes. Then wereached the fourth cell. 

Narayan was right, the cells were one straight over the other, and thefloor of the one formed the ceiling of the other. The fourth cell wasin ruins. Two broken pillars lying one on the other presented a veryconvenient stepping-stone to the fifth story. But the colonel stoppedour zeal by saying that now was the time to smoke "the pipe ofdeliberation" after the fashion of red Indians. 

"If Narayan is not mistaken, " he said, "this going up and up maycontinue till tomorrow morning. "

"I am not mistaken, " said Narayan almost solemnly. But since my visithere I have heard that some of these passages were filled with earth, so that every communication is stopped; and, if I remember rightly, wecannot go further than the next story. "

"In that case there is no use trying to go any further. If the ruins areso shaky as to stop the passages, it would be dangerous for us. "

"I never said the passages were stopped by the hand of time. .. . They didit on purpose. .. . "

"Who they? Do you mean glamour?. .. "

"Colonel!" said the Hindu with an effort. "Don't laugh at what I say. . .. I speak seriously. "

"My dear fellow, I assure you my intention is neither to offend you norto ridicule a serious matter. I simply do not realize whom you mean whenyou say they. "

"I mean the brotherhood. .. . The Raj-Yogis. Some of them live quite closeto here. "

By the dim light of the half-extinguished torches we saw that Narayan'slips trembled and that his face grew pale as he spoke. The colonelcoughed, rearranged his spectacles and remained silent for a while. 

"My dear Narayan, " at last said the colonel, "I do not want to believethat your intention is to make fun of our credulity. But I can't believeeither, that you seriously mean to assure us that any living creature, be it an animal or an ascetic, could exist in a place where there is noair. I paid special attention to the fact, and so I am perfectly sure Iam not mistaken: there is not a single bat in these cells, which showsthat there is a lack of air. And just look at our torches! you see howdim they are growing. I am sure, that on climbing two or three morerooms like this, we should be suffocated!"

"And in spite of all these facts, I speak the truth, " repeated Narayan. "The caves further on are inhabited by them. And I have seen them withmy own eyes. "

The colonel grew thoughtful, and stood glancing at the ceiling in aperplexed and undecided way. We all kept silent, breathing heavily. 

"Let us go back!" suddenly shouted the Akali. "My nose is bleeding. "

At this very moment I felt a strange and unexpected sensation, andI sank heavily on the ground. In a second I felt an indescribablydelicious, heavenly sense of rest, in spite of a dull pain beating in mytemples. I vaguely realized that I had really fainted, and that I shoulddie if not taken out into the open air. I could not lift my finger; Icould not utter a sound; and, in spite of it, there was no fear in mysoul--nothing but an apathetic, but indescribably sweet feeling of rest, and a complete inactivity of all the senses except hearing. A momentcame when even this sense forsook me, because I remember that I listenedwith imbecile intentness to the dead silence around me. Is this death?was my indistinct wondering thought. Then I felt as if mighty wingswere fanning me. "Kind wings, caressing, kind wings!" were the recurringwords in my brain, like the regular movements of a pendulum, andinteriorily under an unreasoning impulse, I laughed at these words. ThenI experienced a new sensation: I rather knew than felt that I was liftedfrom the floor, and fell down and down some unknown precipice, amongstthe hollow rollings of a distant thunder-storm. Suddenly a loud voiceresounded near me. And this time I think I did not hear, but felt it. There was something palpable in this voice, something that instantlystopped my helpless descent, and kept me from falling any further. This was a voice I knew well, but whose voice it was I could not in myweakness remember. 

In what way I was dragged through all these narrow holes will remain aneternal mystery for me. I came to myself on the verandah below, fannedby fresh breezes, and as suddenly as I had fainted above in the impureair of the cell. When I recovered completely the first thing I saw wasa powerful figure clad in white, with a raven black Rajput beard, anxiously leaning over me. As soon as I recognized the owner of thisbeard, I could not abstain from expressing my feelings by a joyfulexclamation: "Where do you come from?" It was our friend TakurGulab-Lal-Sing, who, having promised to join us in the North-WestProvinces, now appeared to us in Bagh, as if falling from the sky orcoming out of the ground. 

But my unfortunate accident, and the pitiable state of the rest ofthe daring explorers, were enough to stop any further questions andexpressions of astonishment. On one side of me the frightened MissX----, using my nose as a cork for her sal-volatile bottle; on the otherthe "God's warrior" covered with blood as if returning from a battlewith the Afghans; further on, poor Mulji with a dreadful headache. Narayan and the colonel, happily for our party, did not experienceanything worse than a slight vertigo. As to the Babu, no carbonic acidgas could inconvenience his wonderful Bengali nature. He said he wassafe and comfortable enough, but awfully hungry. 

At last the outpour of entangled exclamations and unintelligibleexplanations stopped, and I collected my thoughts and tried tounderstand what had happened to me in the cave. Narayan was the first tonotice that I had fainted, and hastened to drag me back to the passage. And this very moment they all heard the voice of Gulab-Sing coming fromthe upper cell: "Tum-hare iha aneka kya kam tha?" "What on earth broughtyou here?" Even before they recovered from their astonishment he ranquickly past them, and descending to the cell beneath called to them to"pass him down the bai" (sister). This "passing down" of such a solidobject as my body, and the picture of the proceeding, vividly imagined, made me laugh heartily, and I felt sorry I had not been able to witnessit. Handing him over their half-dead load, they hastened to join theTakur; but he contrived to do without their help, though how he did itthey were at a loss to understand. By the time they succeeded in gettingthrough one passage Gulab-Sing was already at the next one, in spite ofthe heavy burden he carried; and they never were in time to be of anyassistance to him. The colonel, whose main feature is the tendency to gointo the details of everything, could not conceive by what proceedingsthe Takur had managed to pass my almost lifeless body so rapidly throughall these narrow holes. 

"He could not have thrown her down the passage before going in himself, for every single bone of her body would have been broken, " mused thecolonel. "And it is still less possible to suppose that, descendingfirst himself, he dragged her down afterwards. It is simplyincomprehensible!"

These questions harassed him for a long time afterwards, until theybecame something like the puzzle: Which was created first, the egg orthe bird?

As to the Takur, when closely questioned, he shrugged his shoulders, and answered that he really did not remember. He said that he simplydid whatever he could to get me out into the open air; that all ourtraveling companions were there to watch his proceedings; he was undertheir eyes all the time, and that in circumstances when every second isprecious people do not think, but act. 

But all these questions arose only in the course of the day. As to thetime directly after I was laid down on the verandah, there were otherthings to puzzle all our party; no one could understand how the Takurhappened to be on the spot exactly when his help was most needed, norwhere he came from--and everyone was anxious to know. On the verandahthey found me lying on a carpet, with the Takur busy restoring me to mysenses, and Miss X---- with her eyes wide open at the Takur, whom shedecidedly believed to be a materialized ghost. 

However, the explanations our friend gave us seemed perfectlysatisfactory, and at first did not strike us as unnatural. He was inHardwar when Swami Dayanand sent us the letter which postponed our goingto him. On arriving at Kandua by the Indore railway, he had visitedHolkar; and, learning that we were so near, he decided to join us soonerthan he had expected. He had come to Bagh yesterday evening, but knowingthat we were to start for the caves early in the morning he went therebefore us, and simply was waiting for us in the caves. 

"There is the whole mystery for you, " said he. 

"The whole mystery?" exclaimed the colonel. "Did you know, then, beforehand that we would discover the cells, or what?"

"No, I did not. I simply went there myself because it is a long timesince I saw them last. Examining them took me longer than I expected, and so I was too late to meet you at the entrance. "

"Probably the Takur-Sahib was enjoying the freshness of the air in thecells, " suggested the mischievous Babu, showing all his white teeth in abroad grin. 

Our president uttered an energetic exclamation. "Exactly! How on earthdid I not think of that before?. .. You could not possibly have anybreathing air in the cells above the one you found us in. .. . And, besides, . .. How did you reach the fifth cell, when the entrance of thefourth was nearly stopped and we had to dig it out?"

"There are other passages leading to them. I know all the turns andcorridors of these caves, and everyone is free to choose his way, "answered Gulab-Sing; and I thought I saw a look of intelligence passbetween him and Narayan, who simply cowered under his fiery eyes. "However, let us go to the cave where breakfast is ready for us. Freshair will do all of you good. "

On our way we met with another cave, twenty or thirty steps south fromthe verandah, but the Takur did not let us go in, fearing new accidentsfor us. So we descended the stone steps I have already mentioned, and after descending about two hundred steps towards the foot of themountain, made a short reascent again and entered the "dining-room, "as the Babu denominated it. In my role of "interesting invalid, " I wascarried to it, sitting in my folding chair, which never left me in allmy travels. 

This temple is much the less gloomy of the two, in spite of considerablesigns of decay. The frescoes of the ceiling are better preserved than inthe first temple. The walls, the tumbled down pillars, the ceiling, andeven the interior rooms, which were lighted by ventilators cut throughthe rock, were once covered by a varnished stucco, the secret ofwhich is now known only to the Madrasis, and which gives the rock theappearance of pure marble. 

We were met by the Takur's four servants, whom we remembered since ourstay in Karli, and who bowed down in the dust to greet us. The carpetswere spread, and the breakfast ready. Every trace of carbonic acid hadleft our brains, and we sat down to our meal in the best of spirits. Our conversation soon turned to the Hardwar Mela, which ourunexpectedly-recovered friend had left exactly five days ago. All theinformation we got from Gulab-Lal-Sing was so interesting that I wroteit down at the first opportunity. 

After a few weeks we visited Hardwar ourselves, and since I saw it, mymemory has never grown tired of recalling the charming picture of itslovely situation. It is as near a primitive picture of earthly Paradiseas anything that can be imagined. 

Every twelfth year, which the Hindus call Kumbha, the planet Jupiterenters the constellation of Aquarius, and this event is considered verypropitious for the beginning of the religious fair; for which this dayis accordingly fixed by the astrologers of the pagodas. This gatheringattracts the representatives of all sects, as I said before, fromprinces and maharajas down to the last fakir. The former come for thesake of religious discussions, the latter, simply to plunge into thewaters of Ganges at its very source, which must be done at a certainpropitious hour, fixed also by the position of the stars. 

Ganges is a name invented in Europe. The natives always say Ganga, andconsider this river to belong strictly to the feminine sex. Ganges issacred in the eyes of the Hindus, because she is the most important ofall the fostering goddesses of the country, and a daughter of the oldHimavat (Himalaya), from whose heart she springs for the salvation ofthe people. That is why she is worshiped, and why the city of Hardwar, built at her very source, is so sacred. 

Hardwar is written Hari-avara, the doorway of the sun-god, or Krishna, and is also often called Gangadvara, the doorway of Ganga; there isstill a third name of the same town, which is the name of a certainascetic Kapela, or rather Kapila, who once sought salvation on thisspot, and left many miraculous traditions. 

The town is situated in a charming flowery valley, at the foot of thesouthern slope of the Sivalik ridge, between two mountain chains. Inthis valley, raised 1, 024 feet above the sea-level, the northern natureof the Himalayas struggles with the tropical growth of the plains;and, in their efforts to excel each other, they have created the mostdelightful of all the delightful corners of India. The town itself isa quaint collection of castle-like turrets of the most fantasticalarchitecture; of ancient viharas; of wooden fortresses, so gaily paintedthat they look like toys; of pagodas, with loopholes and overhangingcurved little balconies; and all this over-grown by such abundanceof roses, dahlias, aloes and blossoming cactuses, that it is hardlypossible to tell a door from a window. The granite foundations of manyhouses are laid almost in the bed of the river, and so, during fourmonths of the year, they are half covered with water. And behindthis handful of scattered houses, higher up the mountain slope, crowdsnow-white, stately temples. Some of them are low, with thick walls, wide wings and gilded cupolas; others rise in majestical many-storiedtowers; others again with shapely pointed roofs, which look like thespires of a bell tower. Strange and capricious is the architecture ofthese temples, the like of which is not to be seen anywhere else. They look as if they had suddenly dropped from the snowy abodes of themountain spirits above, standing there in the shelter of the mothermountain, and timidly peeping over the head of the small town below attheir own images reflected in the pure, untroubled waters of the sacredriver. 

Here the Ganges is not yet polluted by the dirt and the sins of hermany million adorers. Releasing her worshipers, cleansed from her icyembrace, the pure maiden of the mountains carries her transparent wavesthrough the burning plains of Hindostan; and only three hundred andforty-eight miles lower down, on passing through Cawnpore, do her watersbegin to grow thicker and darker, while, on reaching Benares, theytransform themselves into a kind of peppery pea soup. 

Once, while talking to an old Hindu, who tried to convince us that hiscompatriots are the cleanest nation in the world, we asked him:

"Why is it then that, in the less populous places, the Ganges is pureand transparent, whilst in Benares, especially towards evening, it lookslike a mass of liquid mud?"

"O sahibs!" answered he mournfully, "it is not the dirt of our bodies, as you think, it is not even the blackness of our sins, that the devi(goddess) washes away. .. Her waves are black with the sorrow and shameof her children. Her feelings are sad and sorrowful; hidden suffering, burning pain and humiliation, despair and shame at her own helplessness, have been her lot for many past centuries. She has suffered all thistill her waters have become waves of black bile. Her waters are poisonedand black, but not from physical causes. She is our mother, and howcould she help resenting the degradation we have brought ourselves to inthis dark age. "

This sorrowful, poetical allegory made us feel very keenly for the poorold man; but, however great our sympathy, we could not but suppose thatprobably the woes of the maiden Ganga do not affect her sources. InHardwar the color of Ganges is crystal aqua marina, and the waters rungaily murmuring to the shore-reeds about the wonders they saw on theirway from the Himalayas. 

The beautiful river is the greatest and the purest of goddesses, in theeyes of the Hindus; and many are the honors given to her in Hardwar. Besides the Mela celebrated once every twelve years, there is a month inevery year when the pilgrims flock together to the Harika-Paira, stairsof Vishnu. Whosoever succeeds in throwing himself first into the river, at the appointed day, hour and moment, will not only expiate all hissins, but also have all bodily sufferings removed. This zeal to be firstis so great that, owing to a badly-constructed and narrow stair leadingto the water, it used to cost many lives yearly, until, in 1819, theEast India Company, taking pity upon the pilgrims, ordered this ancientrelic to be removed, and a new stairway, one hundred feet wide, andconsisting of sixty steps, to be constructed. 

The month when the waters of the Ganges are most salutary, falls, according to the Brahmanical computation, between March 12th and April10th, and is called Chaitra. The worst of it is that the waters areat their best only at the first moment of a certain propitious hour, indicated by the Brahmans, and which sometimes happens to be midnight. You can fancy what it must be when this moment comes, in the midst of acrowd which exceeds two millions. In 1819 more than four hundred peoplewere crushed to death. But even after the new stairs were constructed, the goddess Ganga has carried away on her virgin bosom many a disfiguredcorpse of her worshipers. Nobody pitied the drowned, on the contrary, they were envied. Whoever happens to be killed during this purificationby bathing, is sure to go straight to Swarga (heaven). In 1760, thetwo rival brotherhoods of Sannyasis and Bairagis had a regular battleamongst them on the sacred day of Purbi, the last day of the religiousfair. The Bairagis were conquered, and there were eighteen thousandpeople slaughtered. 

"And in 1796, " proudly narrated our warlike friend the Akali, "thepilgrims from Punjab, all of them Sikhs, desiring to punish theinsolence of the Hossains, killed here about five hundred of theseheathens. My own grandfather took part in the fight!"

Later on we verified this in the Gazetteer of India, and the "God'swarrior" was cleared of every suspicion of exaggeration and boasting. 

In 1879, however, no one was drowned, or crushed to death, but adreadful epidemic of cholera broke out. We were disgusted at thisimpediment; but had to keep at a distance in spite of our impatienceto see Hardwar. And unable to behold distant summits of old Himavatourselves, we had in the meanwhile to be contented with what we couldhear about him from other people. 

So we talked long after our breakfast under the cave vault was finished. But our talk was not so gay as it might have been, because we had topart with Ram-Runjit-Das, who was going to Bombay. The worthy Sikh shookhands with us in the European way, and then raising his right hand gaveus his blessing, after the fashion of all the followers of Nanaka. But when he approached the Takur to take leave of him, his countenancesuddenly changed. This change was so evident that we all noted it. TheTakur was sitting on the ground leaning on a saddle, which served him asa cushion. The Akali did not attempt either to give him his blessing orto shake hands with him. The proud expression of his face alsochanged, and showed confusion and anxious humility instead of the usualself-respect and self-sufficiency. The brave Sikh knelt down beforethe Takur, and instead of the ordinary "Namaste!"--"Salutation to you, "whispered reverently, as if addressing the Guru of the Golden Lake: "Iam your servant, Sadhu-Sahib! give me your blessing!"

Without any apparent reason or cause, we all felt self-conscious andill at ease, as if guilty of some indiscretion. But the face of themysterious Rajput remained as calm and as dispassionate as ever. He waslooking at the river before this scene took place, and slowly moved hiseyes to the Akali, who lay prostrated before him. Then he touched thehead of the Sikh with his index finger, and rose with the remark that wealso had better start at once, because it was getting late. 

We drove in our carriage, moving very slowly because of the deep sandwhich covers all this locality, and the Takur followed us on horsebackall the way. He told us the epic legends of Hardwar and Rajistan, ofthe great deeds of the Hari-Kulas, the heroic princes of the solar race. Hari means sun, and Kula family. Some of the Rajput princes belong tothis family, and the Maharanas of Oodeypur are especially proud of theirastronomical origin. 

The name of Hari-Kula gives to some Orientalists ground to suppose thata member of this family emigrated to Egypt in the remote epoch of thefirst Pharaonic dynasties, and that the ancient Greeks, borrowing thename as well as the traditions, thus formed their legends about themythological Hercules. It is believed that the ancient Egyptians adoredthe sphinx under the name of Hari-Mukh, or the "sun on the horizon. " Onthe mountain chain which fringes Kashmir on the north, thirteen thousandfeet above the sea, there is a huge summit, which is exactly like ahead, and which bears the name of Harimukh. This name is also met within the most ancient of the Puranas. Besides, popular tradition considersthis Himalayan stone head to be the image of the setting sun. 

Is it possible, then, that all these coincidences are only accidental?And why is it that the Orientalists will not give it more seriousattention? It seems to me that this is a rich soil for future research, and that it is no more to be explained by mere chance than the fact thatboth Egypt and India held the cow sacred, and that the ancient Egyptianshad the same religious horror of killing certain animals, as the modernHindus. 

An Isle of Mystery

When evening began to draw on, we were driving beneath the trees of awild jungle; arriving soon after at a large lake, we left the carriages. The shores were overgrown with reeds--not the reeds that answer ourEuropean notions, but rather such as Gulliver was likely to meet with inhis travels to Brobdingnag. The place was perfectly deserted, but we sawa boat fastened close to the land. We had still about an hour and ahalf of daylight before us, and so we quietly sat down on some ruins andenjoyed the splendid view, whilst the servants of the Takur transportedour bags, boxes and bundles of rugs from the carriages to the ferryboat. Mr. Y---- was preparing to paint the picture before us, whichindeed was charming. 

"Don't be in a hurry to take down this view, " said Gulab-Sing. "In halfan hour we shall be on the islet, where the view is still lovelier. Wemay spend there the night and tomorrow morning as well. "

"I am afraid it will be too dark in an hour, " said Mr. Y----, openinghis color box. "And as for tomorrow, we shall probably have to startvery early. "

"Oh, no! there is not the slightest need to start early. We may evenstay here part of the afternoon. From here to the railway station it isonly three hours, and the train only leaves for J ubbulpore at eightin the evening. And do you know, " added the Takur, smiling in his usualmysterious way, "I am going to treat you to a concert. Tonight you shallbe witness of a very interesting natural phenomenon connected with thisisland. "

We all pricked up our ears with curiosity. 

"Do you mean that island there? and do you really think we must go?"asked the colonel. "Why should not we spend the night here, where we areso deliciously cool, and where. .. "

"Where the forest swarms with playful leopards, and the reeds sheltersnug family parties of the serpent race, were you going to say, colonel?" interrupted the Babu, with a broad grin. "Don't you admirethis merry gathering, for instance? Look at them! There is the fatherand the mother, uncles, aunts, and children. .. . I am sure I could pointout even a mother-in-law. "

Miss X---- looked in the direction he indicated and shrieked, till allthe echoes of the forest groaned in answer. Not farther than three stepsfrom her there were at least forty grown up serpents and baby snakes. They amused themselves by practising somersaults, coiled up, thenstraightened again and interlaced their tails, presenting to our dilatedeyes a picture of perfect innocence and primitive contentment. MissX---- could not stand it any longer and fled to the carriage, whence sheshowed us a pale, horrified face. The Takur, who had arranged himselfcomfortably beside Mr. Y---- in order to watch the progress of hispaint-ing, left his seat and looked attentively at the dangerous group, quietly smoking his gargari--Rajput narghile--the while. 

"If you do not stop screaming you will attract all the wild animals ofthe forest in another ten minutes, " said he. "None of you have anythingto fear. If you do not excite an animal he is almost sure to leave youalone, and most probably will run away from you. "

With these words he lightly waved his pipe in the direction of theserpentine family-party. A thunderbolt falling in their midst could nothave been more effectual. The whole living mass looked stunned for amoment, and then rapidly disappeared among the reeds with loud hissingand rustling. 

"Now this is pure mesmerism, I declare, " said the colonel, on whom not agesture of the Takur was lost. "How did you do it, Gulab-Sing? Where didyou learn this science?"

"They were simply frightened away by the sudden movement of my chibook, and there was no science and no mesmerism about it. Probably by thisfashionable modern word you mean what we Hindus call vashi-karanavidya--that is to say, the science of charming people and animals by theforce of will. However, as I have already said, this has nothing to dowith what I did. "

"But you do not deny, do you, that you have studied this science andpossess this gift?"

"Of course I don't. Every Hindu of my sect is bound to study themysteries of physiology and psychology amongst other secrets left tous by our ancestors. But what of that? I am very much afraid, my dearcolonel, " said the Takur with a quiet smile, "that you are ratherinclined to view the simplest of my acts through a mystical prism. Narayan has been telling you all kinds of things about me behind myback. .. . Now, is it not so?"

And he looked at Narayan, who sat at his feet, with an indescribablemixture of fondness and reproof. The Dekkan colossus dropped his eyesand remained silent. 

"You have guessed rightly, " absently answered Mr. Y----, busy over hisdrawing apparatus. "Narayan sees in you something like his late deityShiva; something just a little less than Parabrahm. Would you believeit? He seriously assured us--in Nassik it was--that the Raj-Yogis, andamongst them yourself--though I must own I still fail to understand whata Raj-Yogi is, precisely--can force any one to see, not what is beforehis eyes at the given moment, but what is only in the imagination of theRaj-Yogi. If I remember rightly he called it Maya. .. . Now, this seemedto me going a little too far!"

"Well! You did not believe, of course, and laughed at Narayan?" askedthe Takur, fathoming with his eyes the dark green deeps of the lake. 

"Not precisely. .. Though, I dare say, I did just a little bit, " went onMr. Y----, absently, being fully engrossed by the view, and trying tofix his eyes on the most effective part of it. "I dare say I am tooscep-tical on this kind of question. "

"And knowing Mr. Y---- as I do, " said the colonel, I can add, formy part, that even were any of these phenomena to happen to himselfpersonally, he, like Dr. Carpenter, would doubt his own eyes rather thanbelieve. "

"What you say is a little bit exaggerated, but there is some truth init. Maybe I would not trust myself in such an occurrence; and I tell youwhy. If I saw something that does not exist, or rather exists only forme, logic would interfere. However objective my vision may be, beforebelieving in the materiality of a hallucination, I feel I am bound todoubt my own senses and sanity. .. . Besides, what bosh all this is! Asif I ever will allow myself to believe in the reality of a thing thatI alone saw; which belief implies also the admission of somebody elsegoverning and dominating, for the time being, my optical nerves, as wellas my brains. "

"However, there are any number of people, who do not doubt, because theyhave had proof that this phenomenon really occurs, " remarked the Takur, in a careless tone, which showed he had not the slightest desire toinsist upon this topic. 

However, this remark only increased Mr. Y----'s excitement. 

"No doubt there are!" he exclaimed. "But what does that prove?Besides them, there are equal numbers of people who believe in thematerialization of spirits. But do me the kindness of not including meamong them!"

"Don't you believe in animal magnetism?"

"To a certain extent, I do. If a person suffering from some contagiousillness can influence a person in good health, and make him ill, in histurn, I suppose somebody else's overflow of health can also affect thesick person, and, perhaps cure him. But between physiological contagionand mesmeric influence there is a great gulf, and I don't feel inclinedto cross this gulf on the grounds of blind faith. It is perfectlypossible that there are instances of thought-transference in cases ofsomnambulism, epilepsy, trance. I do not positively deny it, though I amvery doubtful. Mediums and clairvoyants are a sickly lot, as a rule. ButI bet you anything, a healthy man in perfectly normal conditions is notto be influenced by the tricks of mesmerists. I should like to see amagnetizer, or even a Raj-Yogi, inducing me to obey his will. "

"Now, my dear fellow, you really ought not to speak so rashly, " said thecolonel, who, till then, had not taken any part in the discussion. 

"Ought I not? Don't take it into your head that it is mere boastfulnesson my part. I guarantee failure in my case, simply because everyrenowned European mesmerist has tried his luck with me, without anyresult; and that is why I defy the whole lot of them to try again, andfeel perfectly safe about it. And why a Hindu Raj-Yogi should succeedwhere the strongest of European mesmerists failed, I do not quitesee. .. . "

Mr. Y---- was growing altogether too excited, and the Takur dropped thesubject, and talked of something else. 

For my part, I also feel inclined to deviate once more from my subject, and give some necessary explanations. 

Miss X---- excepted, none of our party had ever been numbered amongstthe spiritualists, least of all Mr. Y----. We Theosophists did notbelieve in the playfulness of departed souls, though we admitted thepossibility of some mediumistic phenomena, while totally disagreeingwith the spiritualists as to the cause and point of view. Refusing tobelieve in the interference, and even presence of the spirits, in theso-called spiritualistic phenomena, we nevertheless believe in theliving spirit of man; we believe in the omnipotence of this spirit, andin its natural, though benumbed capacities. We also believe that, whenincarnated, this spirit, this divine spark, may be apparently quenched, if it is not guarded, and if the life the man leads is unfavorableto its expansion, as it generally is; but, on the other hand, ourconviction is that human beings can develop their potential spiritualpowers; that, if they do, no phenomenon will be impossible for theirliberated wills, and that they will perform what, in the eyes of theuninitiated, will be much more wondrous than the materialized forms ofthe spiritualists. If proper training can render the muscular strengthten times greater, as in the cases of renowned athletes, I do not seewhy proper training should fail in the case of moral capacities. Wehave also good grounds to believe that the secret of this propertraining--though unknown to, and denied by, European physiologistsand even psychologists--is known in some places in India, where itsknowledge is hereditary, and entrusted to few. 

Mr. Y---- was a novice in our Society and looked with distrust even onsuch phenomena as can be pro-duced by mesmerism. He had been trainedin the Royal Institute of British Architects, which he left with agold medal, and with a fund of scepticism that caused him to distrusteverything, en dehors des mathematiques pures. So that no wonder he losthis temper when people tried to convince him that there existed thingswhich he was inclined to treat as "mere bosh and fables. "

Now I return to my narrative. 

The Babu and Mulji left us to help the servants to transport our luggageto the ferry boat. The remainder of the party had grown very quiet andsilent. Miss X---- dozed peacefully in the carriage, forgetting herrecent fright. The colonel, stretched on the sand, amused himself bythrowing stones into the water. Narayan sat motionless, with his handsround his knees, plunged as usual in the mute contemplation of GulabLal-Sing. Mr. Y---- sketched hurriedly and diligently, only raising hishead from time to time to glance at the opposite shore, and knitting hisbrow in a preoccupied way. The Takur went on smoking, and as for me, Isat on my folding chair, looking lazily at everything round me, till myeyes rested on Gulab-Sing, and were fixed, as if by a spell. 

"Who and what is this mysterious Hindu?" I wondered in my uncertainthoughts. "Who is this man, who unites in himself two such distinctpersonalities: the one exterior, kept up for strangers, for the orld ingeneral, the other interior, moral and spiritual, shown only to a fewintimate friends? But even these intimate friends do they know muchbeyond what is generally known? And what do they know? They see in him aHindu who differs very little from the rest of educated natives, perhapsonly in his perfect contempt for the social conventions of India and thedemands of Western civilization. .. . And that is all--unless I add thathe is known in Central India as a sufficiently wealthy man, and a Takur, a feudal chieftain of a Raj, one of the hundreds of similar Rajes. Besides, he is a true friend of ours, who offered us his protectionin our travels and volunteered to play the mediator between us and thesuspicious, uncommunicative Hindus. Beyond all this, we know absolutelynothing about him. It is true, though, that I know a little more thanthe others; but I have promised silence, and silent I shall be. But thelittle I know is so strange, so unusual, that it is more like a dreamthan a reality. "

A good while ago, more than twenty-seven years, I met him in the houseof a stranger in England, whither he came in the company of a certaindethroned Indian prince. Then our acquaintance was limited to twoconversations; their unexpectedness, their gravity, and even severity, produced a strong impression on me then; but, in the course of time, like many other things, they sank into oblivion and Lethe. About sevenyears ago he wrote to me to America, reminding me of our conversationand of a certain promise I had made. Now we saw each other once more inIndia, his own country, and I failed to see any change wrought in hisappearance by all these long years. I was, and looked, quite young, whenI first saw him; but the passage of years had not failed to change meinto an old woman. As to him, he appeared to me twenty-seven years agoa man of about thirty, and still looked no older, as if time werepowerless against him. In England, his striking beauty, especially hisextraordinary height and stature, together with his eccentric refusal tobe presented to the Queen--an honour many a high-born Hindu has sought, coming over on purpose--excited the public notice and the attention ofthe newspapers. The newspapermen of those days, when the influence ofByron was still great, discussed the "wild Rajput" with untiringpens, calling him "Raja-Misanthrope" and " Prince Jalma-Samson, " andin-venting fables about him all the time he stayed in England. 

All this taken together was well calculated to fill me with consumingcuriosity, and to absorb my thoughts till I forgot every exteriorcircumstance, sitting and staring at him in no wise less intensely thanNarayan. 

I gazed at the remarkable face of Gulab-Lal-Sing with a mixed feeling ofindescribable fear and enthusiastic admiration; recalling the mysteriousdeath of the Karli tiger, my own miraculous escape a few hours ago inBagh, and many other incidents too many to relate. It was only a fewhours since he appeared to us in the morning, and yet what a number ofstrange ideas, of puzzling occurrences, how many enigmas his presencestirred in our minds! The magic circle of my revolving thought grew toomuch for me. "What does all this mean!" I exclaimed to myself, tryingto shake off my torpor, and struggling to find words for my meditation. "Who is this being whom I saw so many years ago, jubilant with manhoodand life, and now see again, as young and as full of life, only stillmore austere, still more incomprehensible. After all, maybe it is hisbrother, or even his son?" thought I, trying to calm myself, but with noresult. "No! there is no use doubting; it is he himself, it is the sameface, the same little scar on the left temple. But, as a quarter of acentury ago, so now: no wrinkles on those beautiful classic features;not a white hair in this thick jet-black mane; and, in moments ofsilence, the same expression of perfect rest on that face, calm as astatue of living bronze. What a strange expression, and what a wonderfulSphinx-like face!"

"Not a very brilliant comparison, my old friend!" suddenly spoke theTakur, and a good-natured laughing note rung in his voice, whilst Ishuddered and grew red like a naughty schoolgirl. "This comparison isso inaccurate that it decidedly sins against history in two importantpoints. Primo, the Sphinx is a lion; so am I, as indicates the word Singin my name; but the Sphinx is winged, and I am not. Secondo, the Sphinxis a woman as well as a winged lion, but the Rajput Sinhas never hadanything effeminate in their characters. Besides, the Sphinx is thedaughter of Chimera, or Echidna, who were neither beautiful nor good;and so you might have chosen a more flattering and a less inaccuratecomparison!"

I simply gasped in my utter confusion, and he gave vent to hismerriment, which by no means relieved me. "Shall I give you some goodadvice?" continued Gulab-Sing, changing his tone for a more serious one. "Don't trouble your head with such vain speculations. The day when thisriddle yields its solution, the Rajput Sphinx will not seek destructionin the waves of the sea; but, believe me, it won't bring any profit tothe Russian Oedipus either. You already know every detail you ever willlearn. So leave the rest to our respective fates. "

And he rose because the Babu and Mulji had informed us that the ferryboat was ready to start, and were shouting and making signs to us tohasten. 

"Just let me finish, " said Mr. Y----, "I have nearly done. Just anadditional touch or two. "

"Let us see your work. Hand it round!" insisted the colonel and MissX----, who had just left her haven of refuge in the carriage, and joinedus still half asleep. 

Mr. Y---- hurriedly added a few more touches to his drawing and rose tocollect his brushes and pencils. 

We glanced at his fresh wet picture and opened our eyes in astonishment. There was no lake on it, no woody shores, and no velvety evening miststhat covered the distant island at this moment. Instead of all this wesaw a charming sea view; thick clusters of shapely palm-trees scatteredover the chalky cliffs of the littoral; a fortress-like bungalow withbalconies and a flat roof, an elephant standing at its entrance, and anative boat on the crest of a foaming billow. 

"Now what is this view, sir?" wondered the colonel. "As if it was worthyour while to sit in the sun, and detain us all, to draw fancy picturesout of your own head!"

"What on earth are you talking about?" exclaimed Mr. Y----. "Do you meanto say you do not recognize the lake?"

"Listen to him--the lake! Where is the lake, if you please? Were youasleep, or what?"

By this time all our party gathered round the colonel, who held thedrawing. Narayan uttered an exclamation, and stood still, the very imageof bewilderment past description. 

"I know the place!" said he, at last. "This is Dayri--Bol, the countryhouse of the Takur-Sahib. I know it. Last year during the famine I livedthere for two months. "

I was the first to grasp the meaning of it all, but something preventedme from speaking at once. 

At last Mr. Y---- finished arranging and packing his things, andapproached us in his usual lazy, careless way, but his face showedtraces of vexation. He was evidently bored by our persistency in seeinga sea, where there was nothing but the corner of a lake. But, at thefirst sight of his unlucky sketch, his countenance suddenly changed. He grew so pale, and the expression of his face became so piteouslydistraught that it was painful to see. He turned and returned the pieceof Bristol board, then rushed like a madman to his drawing portfolio andturned the whole contents out, ransacking and scattering over the sandhundreds of sketches and of loose papers. Evidently failing to findwhat he was looking for, he glanced again at his sea-view, and suddenlycovering his face with his hands totally collapsed. 

We all remained silent, exchanging glances of wonder and pity, andheedless of the Takur, who stood on the ferry boat, vainly calling to usto join him. 

"Look here, Y----!" timidly spoke the kind-hearted colonel, as ifaddressing a sick child. "Are you sure you remember drawing this view?"

Mr. Y---- did not give any answer, as if gathering strength and thinkingit over. After a few moments he answered in hoarse and tremulous tones:

"Yes, I do remember. Of course I made this sketch, but I made it fromnature. I painted only what I saw. And it is that very certainty thatupsets me so. "

"But why should you be upset, my dear fellow? Collect yourself! Whathappened to you is neither shameful nor dreadful. It is only the resultof the temporary influence of one dominant will over another, lesspowerful. You simply acted under 'biological influence, ' to use theexpression of Dr. Carpenter. "

"That is exactly what I am most afraid of. .. . I remember everything now. I have been busy over this view more than an hour. I saw it directlyI chose the spot, and seeing it all the while on the opposite shore Icould not suspect anything uncanny. I was perfectly conscious. .. Or, shall I say, I fancied I was conscious of putting down on paper whateveryone of you had before your eyes. I had lost every notion of theplace as I saw it before I began my sketch, and as I see it now. .. . Buthow do you account for it? Good gracious! am I to believe that theseconfounded Hindus really possess the mystery of this trick? I tell you, colonel, I shall go mad if I don't understand it all!"

"No fear of that, Mr. Y----, " said Narayan, with a triumphant twinkle inhis eyes. "You will simply lose the right to deny Yoga-Vidya, the greatancient science of my country. "

Mr. Y---- did not answer him. He made an effort to calm his feelings, and bravely stepped on the ferry boat with firm foot. Then he sat down, apart from us all, obstinately looking at the large surface of waterround us, and struggling to seem his usual self. 

Miss X---- was the first to interrupt the silence. 

"Ma chere!" said she to me in a subdued, but triumphant voice. "Machere, Monsieur Y---- devient vraiment un medium de premiere force!"

In moments of great excitement she always addressed me in French. ButI also was too excited to control my feelings, and so I answered ratherunkindly:

"Please stop this nonsense, Miss X----. You know I don't believe inspiritualism. Poor Mr. Y----, was not he upset?"

Receiving this rebuke and no sympathy from me, she could not thinkof anything better than drawing out the Babu, who, for a wonder, hadmanaged to keep quiet till then. 

"What do you say to all this? I for one am perfectly confident that noone but the disembodied soul of a great artist could have painted thatlovely view. Who else is capable of such a wonderful achievement?"

"Why? The old gentleman in person. Confess that at the bottom of yoursoul you firmly believe that the Hindus worship devils. To be sure it issome deity of ours of this kind that had his august paw in the matter. "

"Il est positivement malhonnete, ce Negre-la!" angrily muttered MissX----, hurriedly withdrawing from him. 

The island was a tiny one, and so overgrown with tall reeds that, froma distance, it looked like a pyramidal basket of verdure. With theexception of a colony of monkeys, who bustled away to a few mango treesat our approach, the place seemed uninhabited. In this virgin forest ofthick grass there was no trace of human life. Seeing the word grass thereader must not forget that it is not the grass of Europe I mean; thegrass under which we stood, like insects under a rhubarb leaf, wavedits feathery many-colored plumes much above the head of Gulab-Sing(who stood six feet and a half in his stockings), and of Narayan, whomeasured hardly an inch less. From a distance it looked like a wavingsea of black, yellow, blue, and especially of rose and green. Onlanding, we discovered that it consisted of separate thickets ofbamboos, mixed up with the gigantic sirka reeds, which rose as high asthe tops of the mangos. 

It is impossible to imagine anything prettier and more graceful than thebamboos and sirka. The isolated tufts of bamboos show, in spite of theirsize, that they are nothing but grass, because the least gush of windshakes them, and their green crests begin to nod like heads adorned withlong ostrich plumes. There were some bamboos there fifty or sixty feethigh. From time to time we heard a light metallic rustle in the reeds, but none of us paid much attention to it. 

Whilst our coolies and servants were busy clearing a place for ourtents, pitching them and preparing the supper, we went to payour respects to the monkeys, the true hosts of the place. Withoutexaggeration there were at least two hundred. While preparing for theirnightly rest the monkeys behaved like decorous and well-behaved people;every family chose a separate branch and defended it from the intrusionof strangers lodging on the same tree, but this defence never passedthe limits of good manners, and generally took the shape of threateninggrimaces. There were many mothers with babies in arms amongst them; someof them treated the children tenderly, and lifted them cautiously, with a perfectly human care; others, less thoughtful, ran up anddown, heedless of the child hanging at their breasts, preoccupied withsomething, discussing something, and stopping every moment to quarrelwith other monkey ladies--a true picture of chatty old gossips on amarket day, repeated in the animal kingdom. The bachelors kept apart, absorbed in their athletic exercises, performed for the most partwith the ends of their tails. One of them, especially, attracted ourattention by dividing his amusement between sauts perilleux and teasinga respectable looking grandfather, who sat under a tree hugging twolittle monkeys. Swinging backward and forward from the branch, thebachelor jumped at him, bit his ear playfully and made faces at him, chattering all the time. We cautiously passed from one tree to another, afraid of frightening them away; but evidently the years spent by themwith the fakirs, who left the island only a year ago, had accustomedthem to human society. They were sacred monkeys, as we learned, and sothey had nothing to fear from men. They showed no signs of alarm at ourapproach, and, having received our greeting, and some of them a piece ofsugar-cane, they calmly stayed on their branch-thrones, crossing theirarms, and looking at us with a good deal of dignified contempt in theirintelligent hazel eyes. 

The sun had set, and we were told that the supper was ready. We allturned "homewards, " except the Babu. The main feature of his character, in the eyes of orthodox Hindus, being a tendency to blasphemy, he couldnever resist the temptation to justify their opinion of him. Climbing upa high branch he crouched there, imitating every gesture of the monkeysand answering their threatening grimaces by still uglier ones, to theunconcealed disgust of our pious coolies. 

As the last golden ray disappeared on the horizon, a gauze-like veilof pale lilac fell over the world. But as every moment decreased thetransparency of this tropical twilight, the tint gradually lost itssoftness and became darker and darker. It looked as if an invisiblepainter, unceasingly moving his gigantic brush, swiftly laid one coatof paint over the other, ever changing the exquisite background of ourislet. The phosphoric candles of the fireflies began to twinkle here andthere, shining brightly against the black trunks of the trees, and lostagain on the silvery background of opalescent evening sky. But in afew minutes more thousands of these living sparks, precursors of QueenNight, played round us, pouring like a golden cascade over the trees, and dancing in the air above the grass and the dark lake. 

And behold! here is the queen in person. Noiselessly descending uponearth, she reassumes her rights. With her approach, rest and peacespread over us; her cool breath calms the activities of day. Like a fondmother, she sings a lullaby to nature, lovingly wrapping her in her softblack mantle; and, when everything is asleep, she watches over nature'sdozing powers till the first streaks of dawn. 

Nature sleeps; but man is awake, to be witness to the beauties of thissolemn evening hour. Sitting round the fire we talked, lowering ourvoices as if afraid of awaking night. We were only six; the colonel, the four Hindus and myself, because Mr. Y---- and Miss X---- couldnot resist the fatigue of the day and had gone to sleep directly aftersupper. 

Snugly sheltered by the high "grass, " we had not the heart to spend thismagnificent night in prosaic sleeping. Besides, we were waiting for the"concert" which the Takur had promised us. 

"Be patient, " said he, "the musicians will not appear before the moonrises. "

The fickle goddess was late; she kept us waiting till after ten o'clock. Just before her arrival, when the horizon began to grow perceptiblybrighter, and the opposite shore to assume a milky, silvery tint, asudden wind rose. The waves, that had gone quietly to sleep at the feetof gigantic reeds, awoke and tossed uneasily, till the reeds swayedtheir feathery heads and murmured to each other as if taking counseltogether about some thing that was going to happen. .. . Suddenly, in thegeneral stillness and silence, we heard again the same musical notes, which we had passed unheeded, when we first reached the island, as ifa whole orchestra were trying their musical instruments before playingsome great composition. All round us, and over our heads, vibratedstrings of violins, and thrilled the separate notes of a flute. In afew moments came another gust of wind tearing through the reeds, and thewhole island resounded with the strains of hundreds of Aeolian harps. And suddenly there began a wild unceasing symphony. It swelled in thesurrounding woods, filling the air with an indescribable melody. Sad andsolemn were its prolonged strains; they resounded like the arpeggios ofsome funeral march, then, changing into a trembling thrill, they shookthe air like the song of a nightingale, and died away in a long sigh. They did not quite cease, but grew louder again, ringing like hundredsof silver bells, changing from the heartrending howl of a wolf, deprivedof her young, to the precipitate rhythm of a gay tarantella, forgetfulof every earthly sorrow; from the articulate song of a human voice, tothe vague majestic accords of a violoncello, from merry child's laughterto angry sobbing. And all this was repeated in every direction bymocking echo, as if hundreds of fabulous forest maidens, disturbed intheir green abodes, answered the appeal of the wild musical Saturnalia. 

The colonel and I glanced at each other in our great astonishment. 

"How delightful! What witchcraft is this?" we exclaimed at the sametime. 

The Hindus smiled, but did not answer us. The Takur smoked his gargarias peacefully as if he was deaf. 

There was a short interval, after which the invisible orchestrastarted again with renewed energy. The sounds poured and rolled inunrestrainable, overwhelming waves. We had never heard anything likethis inconceivable wonder. Listen! A storm in the open sea, the windtearing through the rigging, the swish of the maddened waves rushingover each other, or the whirling snow wreaths on the silent steppes. Suddenly the vision is changed; now it is a stately cathedral and thethundering strains of an organ rising under its vaults. The powerfulnotes now rush together, now spread out through space, break off, intermingle, and become entangled, like the fantastic melody of adelirious fever, some musical phantasy born of the howling and whistlingof the wind. 

Alas! the charm of these sounds is soon exhausted, and you begin to feelthat they cut like knives through your brain. A horrid fancy haunts ourbewildered heads; we imagine that the invisible artists strain ourown veins, and not the strings of imaginary violins; their cold breathfreezes us, blowing their imaginary trumpets, shaking our nerves andimpeding our breathing. 

"For God's sake stop this, Takur! This is really too much, " shoutedthe colonel, at the end of his patience, and covering his ears with hishands. "Gulab-Sing, I tell you you must stop this. "

The three Hindus burst out laughing; and even the grave face of theTakur lit up with a merry smile. "Upon my word, " said he, "do you reallytake me for the great Parabrahm? Do you think it is in my power to stopthe wind, as if I were Marut, the lord of the storms, in person. Ask forsomething easier than the instantaneous uprooting of all these bamboos. "

"I beg your pardon; I thought these strange sounds also were some kindof psychologic influence. "

"So sorry to disappoint you, my dear colonel; but you really must thinkless of psychology and electrobiology. This develops into a maniawith you. Don't you see that this wild music is a natural acousticphenomenon? Each of the reeds around us--and there are thousands on thisisland--contains a natural musical instrument; and the musician, Wind, comes here daily to try his art after nightfall--especially during thelast quarter of the moon. "

"The wind!" murmured the colonel. "Oh, yes! But this music begins tochange into a dreadful roar. Is there no way out of it?"

"I at least cannot help it. But keep up your patience, you will soon getaccustomed to it. Besides, there will be intervals when the wind falls. "

We were told that there are many such natural orchestras in India. TheBrahmans know well their wonderful properties, and calling this kind ofreed vina-devi, the lute of the gods, keep up the popular superstitionand say the sounds are divine oracles. The sirka grass and the bamboosalways shelter a number of tiny beetles, which make considerable holesin the hollow reeds. The fakirs of the idol-worshipping sects add art tothis natural beginning and work the plants into musical instruments. Theislet we visited bore one of the most celebrated vina-devis, and so, ofcourse, was proclaimed sacred. 

"Tomorrow morning, " said the Takur, "you will see what deep knowledgeof all the laws of acoustics was in the possession of the fakirs. Theyenlarged the holes made by the beetle according to the size of the reed, sometimes shaping it into a circle, sometimes into an oval. Thesereeds in their present state can be justly considered as the finestillustration of mechanism applied to acoustics. However, this is not tobe wondered at, because some of the most ancient Sanskrit books aboutmusic minutely describe these laws, and mention many musical instrumentswhich are not only forgotten, but totally incomprehensible in our days. "

All this was very interesting, but still, disturbed by the din, we couldnot listen attentively. 

"Don't worry yourselves, " said the Takur, who soon understood ouruneasiness, in spite of our attempts at composure. "After midnight thewind will fall, and you will sleep undisturbed. However, if the tooclose neighborhood of this musical grass is too much for you, we may aswell go nearer to the shore. There is a spot from which you can see thesacred bonfires on the opposite shore. "

We followed him, but while walking through the thickets of reeds we didnot leave off our conversation. "How is it that the Brahmans manage tokeep up such an evident cheat?" asked the colonel. "The stupidest mancannot fail to see in the long run who made the holes in the reeds, andhow they come to give forth music. "

"In America stupid men may be as clever as that; I don't know, " answeredthe Takur, with a smile; "but not in India. If you took the trouble toshow, to describe, and to explain how all this is done to any Hindu, behe even comparatively educated, he will still see nothing. He will tellyou that he knows as well as yourself that the holes are made by thebeetles and enlarged by the fakirs. But what of that? The beetle in hiseyes is no ordinary beetle, but one of the gods incarnated in the insectfor this special purpose; and the fakir is a holy ascetic, who has actedin this case by the order of the same god. That will be all you willever get out of him. Fanaticism and superstition took centuries todevelop in the masses, and now they are as strong as a necessaryphysiological function. Kill these two and the crowd will have its eyesopened, and will see truth, but not before. As to the Brahmans, Indiawould have been very fortunate if everything they have done were asharmless. Let the crowds adore the muse and the spirit of harmony. Thisadoration is not so very wicked, after all. "

The Babu told us that in Dehra-Dun this kind of reed is planted onboth sides of the central street, which is more than a mile long. Thebuildings prevent the free action of the wind, and so the sounds areheard only in time of east wind, which is very rare. A year ago SwamiDayanand happened to camp off Dehra-Dun. Crowds of people gathered roundhim every evening. One day he delivered a very powerful sermon againstsuperstition. Tired out by this long, energetic speech, and, besides, being a little unwell, the Swami sat down on his carpet and shut hiseyes to rest as soon as the sermon was finished. But the crowd, seeinghim so unusually quiet and silent, all at once imagined that his soul, abandoning him in this prostration, entered the reeds--that had justbegun to sing their fantastical rhapsody--and was now conversingwith the gods through the bamboos. Many a pious man in this gathering, anxious to show the teacher in what fulness they grasped his teachingand how deep was their respect for him personally, knelt down before thesinging reeds and performed a most ardent puja. 

"What did the Swami say to that?"

"He did not say anything. .. . Your question shows that you don't knowour Swami yet, " laughed the Babu. "He simply jumped to his feet, and, uprooting the first sacred reed on his way, gave such a lively Europeanbakshish (thrashing) to the pious puja-makers, that they instantly tookto their heels. The Swami ran after them for a whole mile, giving it hotto everyone in his way. He is wonderfully strong is our Swami, and nofriend to useless talk, I can tell you. "

"But it seems to me, " said the colonel, "that that is not the right wayto convert crowds. Dispersing and frightening is not converting. "

"Not a bit of it. The masses of our nation require peculiartreatment. .. . Let me tell you the end of this story. Disappointed withthe effect of his teachings on the inhabitants of Dehra-Dun, DayanandSaraswati went to Patna, some thirty-five or forty miles from there. Andbefore he had even rested from the fatigues of his journey, he had toreceive a deputation from Dehra-Dun, who on their knees entreated him tocome back. The leaders of this deputation had their backs covered withbruises, made by the bamboo of the Swami! They brought him back with noend of pomp, mounting him on an elephant and spreading flowers all alongthe road. Once in Dehra-Dun, he immediately proceeded to found a Samaj, a society as you would say, and the Dehra-Dun Arya-Samaj now countsat least two hundred members, who have renounced idol-worship andsuperstition for ever. "

"I was present, " said Mulji, "two years ago in Benares, when Dayanandbroke to pieces about a hundred idols in the bazaar, and the same stickserved him to beat a Brahman with. He caught the latter in the hollowidol of a huge Shiva. The Brahman was quietly sitting there talking tothe devotees in the name, and so to speak, with the voice of Shiva, andasking money for a new suit of clothes the idol wanted. "

"Is it possible the Swami had not to pay for this new achievement ofhis?"

"Oh, yes. The Brahman dragged him into a law court, but the judge had topronounce the Swami in the right, because of the crowd of sympathizersand defenders who followed the Swami. But still he had to pay for allthe idols he had broken. So far so good; but the Brahman died of cholerathat very night, and of course, the opposers of the reform said hisdeath was brought on by the sorcery of Dayanand Saraswati. This vexed usall a good deal. "

"Now, Narayan, it is your turn, " said I. Have you no story to tell usabout the Swami? And do you not look up to him as to your Guru?"

"I have only one Guru and only one God on earth, as in heaven, " answeredNarayan; and I saw that he was very unwilling to speak. "And while Ilive, I shall not desert them. "

"I know who is his Guru and his God!" thoughtlessly exclaimed thequick-tongued Babu. "It is the Takur--Sahib. In his person both coincidein the eyes of Narayan. "

"You ought to be ashamed to talk such nonsense, Babu, " coldly remarkedGulab-Sing. "I do not think myself worthy of being anybody's Guru. As tomy being a god, the mere words are a blasphemy, and I must ask you notto repeat them. .. Here we are!" added he more cheerfully, pointing tothe carpets spread by the servants on the shore, and evidently desirousof changing the topic. "Let us sit down!"

We arrived at a small glade some distance from the bamboo forest. The sounds of the magic orchestra reached us still, but considerablyweakened, and only from time to time. We sat to the windward of thereeds, and so the harmonic rustle we heard was exactly like the lowtones of an Aeolian harp, and had nothing disagreeable in it. On thecontrary, the distant murmur only added to the beauty of the whole scenearound us. 

We sat down, and only then I realized how tired and sleepy I was--andno wonder, after being on foot since four in the morning, and after allthat had happened to me on this memorable day. The gentlemen wenton talking, and I soon became so absorbed in my thoughts that theirconversation reached me only in fragments. 

"Wake up, wake up!" repeated the colonel, shaking me by the hand. "TheTakur says that sleeping in the moonlight will do you harm. "

I was not asleep; I was simply thinking, though ex-hausted and sleepy. But wholly under the charm of this enchanting night, I could not shakeoff my drowsiness, and did not answer the colonel. 

"Wake up, for God's sake! Think of what you are risking!" continued thecolonel. "Wake up and look at the landscape before us, at this wonderfulmoon. Have you ever seen anything to equal this magnificent panorama?"

I looked up, and the familiar lines of Pushkin about the golden moon ofSpain flashed into my mind. And indeed this was a golden moon. At thismoment she radiated rivers of golden light, poured forth liquid goldinto the tossing lake at our feet, and sprinkled with golden dust everyblade of grass, every pebble, as far as the eye could reach, all roundus. Her disk of silvery yellow swiftly glided upward amongst the bigstars, on their dark blue ground. 

Many a moonlit night have I seen in India, but every time the impressionwas new and unexpected. It is no use trying to describe these feeriquepictures, they cannot be represented either in words or in colors oncanvas, they can only be felt--so fugitive is their grandeur and beauty!In Europe, even in the south, the full moon eclipses the largest andmost brilliant of the stars, so that hardly any can be seen for aconsiderable distance round her. In India it is quite the contrary; shelooks like a huge pearl surrounded by diamonds, rolling on a blue velvetground. Her light is so intense that one can read a letter written insmall handwriting; one even can perceive the different greens of thetrees and bushes--a thing unheard of in Europe. The effect of the moonis especially charming on tall palm trees. From the first moment of herappearance her rays glide over the tree downwards, beginning withthe feathery crests, then lighting up the scales of the trunk, anddescending lower and lower till the whole palm is literally bathing ina sea of light. Without any metaphor the surface of the leaves seemsto tremble in liquid silver all the night long, whereas their undersurfaces seem blacker and softer than black velvet. But woe to thethoughtless novice, woe to the mortal who gazes at the Indian moon withhis head uncovered. It is very dangerous not only to sleep under, buteven to gaze at the chaste Indian Diana. Fits of epilepsy, madnessand death are the punishments wrought by her treacherous arrows on themodern Acteon who dares to contemplate the cruel daughter of Latona inher full beauty. The Hindus never go out in the moonlight without theirturbans or pagris. Even our invulnerable Babu always wore a kind ofwhite cap during the night. 

As soon as the reeds concert reaches its height and the inhabitants ofthe neighborhood hear the distant "voices of the gods, " whole villagesflock together to the bank of the lake, light bonfires, and performtheir pujas. The fires lit up one after the other, and the blacksilhouettes of the worshippers moved about on the opposite shore. Theirsacred songs and loud exclamations, "Hari, Hari, Maha-deva!" resoundedwith a strange loudness and a wild emphasis in the pure air of thenight. And the reeds, shaken in the wind, answered them with tendermusical phrases. The whole stirred a vague feeling of uneasiness inmy soul, a strange intoxication crept gradually over me, and in thisenchanting place the idol-worship of these passionate, poetical souls, sunk in dark ignorance, seemed more intelligible and less repulsive. AHindu is a born mystic, and the luxuriant nature of his country has madeof him a zealous pantheist. 

Sounds of alguja, a kind of Pandean pipe with seven openings, struckour attention; their music was wafted by the wind quite distinctly fromsomewhere in the wood. They also startled a whole family of monkeys inthe branches of a tree over our heads. Two or three monkeys carefullyslipped down, and looked round as if waiting for something. 

"What is this new Orpheus, to whose voice these monkeys answer?" asked Ilaughingly. 

"Some fakir probably. The alguja is generally used to invite the sacredmonkeys to their meals. The community of fakirs, who once inhabitedthis island, have removed to an old pagoda in the forest. Their newresting-place brings them more profit, because there are many passersby, whereas the island is perfectly isolated. "

"Probably they were compelled to desert this dreadful place because theywere threatened by chronic deafness, " Miss X---- expressed her opinion. She could not help being out of temper at being prevented from enjoyingher quiet slumber, our tents being right in the middle of the orchestra. 

"A propos of Orpheus, " asked the Takur, "do you know that the lyre ofthis Greek demigod was not the first to cast spells over people, animalsand even rivers? Kui, a certain Chinese musical artist, as they arecalled, expresses something to this effect: 'When I play my kyng thewild animals hasten to me, and range themselves into rows, spellbound bymy melody. ' This Kui lived one thousand years before the supposed era ofOrpheus. "

"What a funny coincidence!" exclaimed I. "Kui is the name of one of ourbest artists in St. Petersburg. Where did you read this?"

"Oh, this is not a very rare piece of information. Some of your WesternOrientalists have it in their books. But I personally found it in anancient Sanskrit book, translated from the Chinese in the second centurybefore your era. But the original is to be found in a very ancient work, named The Preserver of the Five Chief Virtues. It is a kind of chronicleor treatise on the development of music in China. It was written by theorder of Emperor Hoang-Tee many hundred years before your era. "

"Do you think, then, that the Chinese ever understood anything aboutmusic?" said the colonel, with an incredulous smile. "In California andother places I heard some traveling artists of the celestial empire. Well, I think, that kind of musical entertainment would drive any onemad. "

"That is exactly the opinion of many of your Western musicians on thesubject of our ancient Aryan, as well as of modern Hindu, music. But, inthe first instance, the idea of melody is perfectly arbitrary; and, inthe second, there is a good deal of difference between the technicalknowledge of music, and the creation of melodies fit to please theeducated, as well as the uneducated, ear. According to technical theory, a musical piece may be perfect, but the melody, nevertheless, may beabove the understanding of an untrained taste, or simply unpleasant. Your most renowned operas sound for us like a wild chaos, like a rush ofstrident, entangled sounds, in which we do not see any meaning at all, and which give us headaches. I have visited the London and the Parisopera; I have heard Rossini and Meyer-beer; I was resolved to rendermyself an account of my impressions, and listened with the greatestattention. But I own I prefer the simplest of our native melodies to theproductions of the best European composers. Our popular songs speak tome, whereas they fail to produce any emotion in you. But leaving thetunes and songs out of question, I can assure you that our ancestors, as well as the ancestors of the Chinese, were far from inferior to themodern Europeans, if not in technical instrumentation, at least in theirabstract notions of music. "

"The Aryan nations of antiquity, perhaps; but I hardly believe this inthe case of the Turanian Chinese!" said our president doubtfully. 

"But the music of nature has been everywhere the first step to themusic of art. This is a universal rule. But there are different ways offollowing it. Our musical system is the greatest art, if--pardon me thisseeming paradox--avoiding all artificiality is art. We do not allow inour melodies any sounds that cannot be classified amongst the livingvoices of nature; whereas the modern Chinese tendencies are quitedifferent. The Chinese system comprises eight chief tones, which serveas a tuning-fork to all derivatives; which are accordingly classifiedunder the names of their generators. These eight sounds are: the notesmetal, stone, silk, bamboo, pumpkin, earthenware, leather and wood. Sothat they have metallic sounds, wooden sounds, silk sounds, and so on. Of course, under these conditions they cannot produce any melody; theirmusic consists of an entangled series of separate notes. Their imperialhymn, for instance, is a series of endless unisons. But we Hindus oweour music only to living nature, and in nowise to inanimate objects. Ina higher sense of the word, we are pantheists, and so our music is, soto speak, pantheistic; but, at the same time, it is highly scientific. Coming from the cradle of humanity, the Aryan races, who were the firstto attain manhood, listened to the voice of nature, and concluded thatmelody as well as harmony are both contained in our great common mother. Nature has no false and no artificial notes; and man, the crown ofcreation, felt desirous of imitating her sounds. In their multiplicity, all these sounds--according to the opinion of some of your Westernphysicists--make only one tone, which we all can hear, if we know howto listen, in the eternal rustle of the foliage of big forests, in themurmur of water, in the roar of the storming ocean, and even in thedistant roll of a great city. This tone is the middle F, the fundamentaltone of nature. In our melodies it serves as the starting point, whichwe embody in the key-note, and around which are grouped all theother sounds. Having noticed that every musical note has its typicalrepresentative in the animal kingdom, our ancestors found out that theseven chief tones correspond to the cries of the goat, the peacock, theox, the parrot, the frog, the tiger, and the elephant. So the octave wasdiscovered and founded. As to its subdivisions and measure, they alsofound their basis in the complicated sounds of the same animals. "

"I am no judge of your ancient music, " said the colonel, "nor do I knowwhether your ancestors did, or did not, work out any musical theories, so I cannot contradict you; but I must own that, listening to the songsof the modern Hindus, I could not give them any credit for musicalknowledge. "

"No doubt it is so, because you have never heard a professional singer. When you have visited Poona, and have listened to the Gayan Samaj, weshall resume our present conversation. The Gayan Samaj is a societywhose aim is to restore the ancient national music. "

Gulab-Lal-Sing spoke in his usual calm voice, but the Babu was evidentlyburning to break forth for his country's honor, and at the same time, hewas afraid of offending his seniors by interrupting their conversation. At last he lost patience. 

"You are unjust, colonel!" he exclaimed. "The music of the ancientAryans is an antediluvian plant, no doubt, but nevertheless it is wellworth studying, and deserves every consideration. This is perfectlyproved now by a compatriot of mine, the Raja Surendronath Tagor. .. . Heis a Mus. D. , he has lots of decorations from all kinds of kings andemperors of Europe for his book about the music of Aryans. .. . And, well, this man has proved, as clear as daylight, that ancient India has everyright to be called the mother of music. Even the best musical critics ofEngland say so!. .. Every school, whether Italian, German or Aryan, sawthe light at a certain period, developed in a certain climate and inperfectly different circumstances. Every school has its characteristics, and its peculiar charm, at least for its followers; and our school isno exception. You Europeans are trained in the melodies of the West, andacquainted with Western schools of music; but our musical system, likemany other things in India, is totally unknown to you. So you mustforgive my boldness, colonel, when I say that you have no right tojudge!"

"Don't get so excited, Babu, " said the Takur. "Every one has the right, if not to discuss, then to ask questions about a new subject. Otherwiseno one would ever get any information. If Hindu music belonged to anepoch as little distant from us as the European--which you seem tosuggest, Babu, in your hot haste; and if, besides, it included all thevirtues of all the previous musical systems, which the European musicassimilates; then no doubt it would have been better understood, andbetter appreciated than it is. But our music belongs to prehistorictimes. In one of the sarcophagi at Thebes, Bruce found a harp withtwenty strings, and, judging by this instrument, we may safely say thatthe ancient inhabitants of Egypt were well acquainted with themysteries of harmony. But, except the Egyptians, we were the only peoplepossessing this art, in the remote epochs, when the rest of mankindwere still struggling with the elements for bare existence. We possesshundreds of Sanskrit MSS. About music, which have never been translated, even into modern Indian dialects. Some of them are four thousand andeight thousand years old. Whatever your Orientalists may say to thecontrary, we will persist in believing in their antiquity, because wehave read and studied them, while the European scientists have never yetset their eyes on them. There are many of these musical treatises, and they have been written at different epochs; but they all, withoutexception, show that in India music was known and systematized in timeswhen the modern civilized nations of Europe still lived like savages. However true, all this does not give us the right to grow indignant whenEuropeans say they do not like our music, as long as their ears are notaccustomed to it, and their minds cannot understand its spirit. .. . To acertain extent we can explain to you its technical character, and giveyou a right idea of it as a science. But nobody can create in you, ina moment, what the Aryans used to call Rakti; the capacity of the humansoul to receive and be moved by the combinations of the various soundsof nature. This capacity is the alpha and omega of our musical system, but you do not possess it, as we do not possess the possibility to fallinto raptures over Bellini. "

"But why should it be so? What are these mysterious virtues of yourmusic, that can be understood only by yourselves? Our skins are ofdifferent colors, but our organic mechanism is the same. In otherwords, the physiological combination of bones, blood, nerves, veins andmuscles, which forms a Hindu, has as many parts, combined exactlyafter the same model as the living mechanism known under the name of anAmerican, Englishman, or any other European. They come into the worldfrom the same workshop of nature; they have the same beginning and thesame end. From a physiological point of view we are duplicates of eachother. "

"Physiologically yes. And it would be as true psychologically, ifeducation did not interfere, which, after all is said and done, couldnot but influence the mental and the moral direction taken by a humanbeing. Sometimes it extinguishes the divine spark; at other times itonly increases it, transforming it into a lighthouse which becomes man'slodestar for life. "

"No doubt this is so. But the influence it has over the physiology ofthe ear cannot be so overpowering after all. "

"Quite the contrary. Only remember what a strong influence climaticconditions, food and everyday surroundings have on the complexion, vitality, capacity for reproduction, and so on, and you will see thatyou are mistaken. Apply this same law of gradual modification to thepurely psychic element in man, and the results will be the same. Changethe education and you will change the capacities of a human being. .. . For instance, you believe in the powers of gymnastics, you believe thatspecial exercise can almost transform the human body. We go one stephigher. The experience of centuries shows that gymnastics exist for thesoul as well as for the body. But what the soul's gymnastics are is oursecret. What is it that gives to the sailor the sight of an eagle, thatendows the acrobat with the skill of a monkey, and the wrestler withmuscles of iron? Practice and habit. Then why should not we supposethe same possibilities in the soul of the man as well as in his body?Perhaps on the grounds of modern science--which either dispenses withthe soul altogether, or does not acknowledge in it a life distinct fromthe life of the body. .. . "

"Please do not speak in this way, Takur. You, at least, ought to knowthat I believe in the soul and in its immortality!"

"We believe in the immortality of spirit, not of soul, following thetriple division of body, soul and spirit. However, this has nothing todo with the present discussion. .. . And so you agree to the propositionthat every dormant possibility of the soul may be led to perfectedstrength and activity by practice, and also that if not properly used itmay grow numb and even disappear altogether. Nature is so zealousthat all her gifts should be used properly, that it is in our power todevelop or to kill in our descendants any physical or mental gift. Asystematic training or a total disregard will accomplish both in thelifetime of a few generations. "

"Perfectly true; but that does not explain to me the secret charm ofyour melodies. .. . "

"These are details and particulars. Why should I dwell on them when youmust see for yourself that my reasoning gives you the clue, which willsolve many similar problems? Centuries have accustomed the ear ofa Hindu to be receptive only of certain combinations of atmosphericvibrations; whereas the ear of a European is used to perfectly differentcombinations. Hence the soul of the former will be enraptured where thesoul of the latter will be perfectly indifferent. I hope my explanationhas been simple and clear, and I might have ended it here were it notthat I am anxious to give you something better than the feeling ofsatisfied curiosity. As yet I have solved only the physiological aspectof the secret, which is as easily admitted as the fact that we Hinduseat by the handful spices which would give you inflammation of theintestines if you happened to swallow a single grain. Our aural nerves, which, at the beginning, were identical with yours, have been changedthrough different training, and became as distinct from yours as ourcomplexion and our stomachs. Add to this that the eyes of the Kashmirweavers, men and women, are able to distinguish three hundred shadesmore than the eye of a European. .. . The force of habit, the law ofatavism, if you like. But things of this kind practically solve theapparent difficulty. You have come all the way from America to study theHindus and their religion; but you will never understand the latter ifyou do not realize how closely all our sciences are related, not tothe modern ignorant Brahmanism, of course, but to the philosophy of ourprimitive Vedic religion. "

"I see. You mean that your music has something to do with the Vedas?"

"Exactly. It has a good deal--almost everything--to do with the Vedas. All the sounds of nature, and, in consequence, of music, are directlyallied to astronomy and mathematics; that is to say, to the planets, the signs of the zodiac, the sun and moon, and to rotation and numbers. Above all, they depend on the Akasha, the ether of space, of theexistence of which your scientists have not made perfectly sure as yet. This was the teaching of the ancient Chinese and Egyptians, as well asof ancient Aryans. The doctrine of the 'music of the spheres' firstsaw the light here in India, and not in Greece or Italy, whither itwas brought by Pythagoras after he had studied under the IndianGymnosophists. And most certainly this great philosopher--who revealedto the world the heliocentric system before Copernicus and Galileo--knewbetter than anyone else how dependent are the least sounds in natureon Akasha and its interrelations. One of the four Vedas, namely, theSama-Veda, entirely consists of hymns. This is a collection of mantramssung during the sacrifices to the gods, that is to say, to the elements. Our ancient priests were hardly acquainted with the modern methods ofchemistry and physics; but, to make up for it, they knew a good dealwhich has not as yet been thought of by modern scientists. So it is notto be wondered at that, sometimes, our priests, so perfectly acquaintedwith natural sciences as they were, forced the elementary gods, orrather the blind forces of nature, to answer their prayers by variousportents. Every sound of these mantrams has its meaning, its importance, and stands exactly where it ought to stand; and, having a raison d'etre, it does not fail to produce its effect. Remember Professor Leslie, whosays that the science of sound is the most subtle, the most unseizableand the most complicated of all the series of physical sciences. And ifever this teaching was worked out to perfection it was in the times ofthe Rishis, our philosophers and saints, who left to us the Vedas. "

"Now, I think I begin to understand the origin of all the mythologicalfables of the Greek antiquity, " thoughtfully said the colonel; "thesyrinx of Pan, his pipe of seven reeds, the fauns, the satyrs, and thelyre of Orpheus himself. The ancient Greeks knew little about harmony;and the rhythmical declamations of their dramas, which probably neverreached the pathos of the simplest of modern recitals, could hardlysuggest to them the idea of the magic lyre of Orpheus. I feel stronglyinclined to believe what was written by some of our great philologists:Orpheus must be an emigrant from India; his very name [greek script], or [greek script], shows that, even amongst the tawny Greeks, he wasremarkably dark. This was the opinion of Lempriere and others. "

"Some day this opinion may become a certainty. There is not theslightest doubt that the purest and the highest of all the musical formsof antiquity belongs to India. All our legends ascribe magic powers tomusic; it is a gift and a science coming straight from the gods. As arule, we ascribe all our arts to divine revelation, but music stands atthe head of everything else. The invention of the vina, a kind of lute, belongs to Narada, the son of Brahma. You will probably laugh at me if Itell you that our ancient priests, whose duty it was to sing duringthe sacrifices, were able to produce phenomena that could not but beconsidered by the ignorant as signs from supernatural powers; and this, remember, without a shadow of trickery, but simply with the help oftheir perfect knowledge of nature and certain combinations well knownto them. The phenomena produced by the priests and the Raj-Yogis areperfectly natural for the initiate--however miraculous they may seem tothe masses. "

"But do you really mean that you have no faith what-ever in the spiritsof the dead?" timidly asked Miss X----, who was always ill at ease inthe presence of the Takur. 

"With your permission, I have none. "

"And. .. And have you no regard for mediums?"

"Still less than for the spirits, my dear lady. I do believe in theexistence of many psychic diseases, and, amongst their number, inmediumism, for which we have got a queer sounding name from timeimmemorial. We call it Bhuta-Dak, literally a bhuta-hostelry. Isincerely pity the real mediums, and do whatever is in my power tohelp them. As to the charlatans, I despise them, and never lose anopportunity of unmasking them. "

The witch's den near the "dead city" suddenly flashed into my mind;the fat Brahman, who played the oracle in the head of the Sivatherium, caught and rolling down the hole; the witch herself suddenly taking toher heels. And with this recollection also occurred to me what I hadnever thought of before: Narayan had acted under the orders of theTakur--doing his best to expose the witch and her ally. 

"The unknown power which possesses the mediums (which the spiritualistsbelieve to be spirits of the dead, while the superstitious see in it thedevil, and the sceptics deceit and infamous tricks), true men of sciencesuspect to be a natural force, which has not as yet been discovered. Itis, in reality, a terrible power. Those possessed by it are generallyweak people, often women and children. Your beloved spiritualists, MissX----, only help the growth of dreadful psychic diseases, but people whoknow better seek to save them from this force you know nothing whateverabout, and it is no use discussing this matter now. I shall only add oneword: the real living spirit of a human being is as free as Brahma;and even more than this for us, for, according to our religion and ourphilosophy, our spirit is Brahma himself, higher than whom there is onlythe unknowable, the all-pervading, the omnipotent essence of Parabrahm. The living spirit of man cannot be ordered about like the spirits of thespiritualists, it cannot be made a slave of. .. However, it is getting solate that we had better go to bed. Let us say good-bye for tonight. "

Gulab-Lal-Sing would not talk any more that night, but I have gatheredfrom our previous conversations many a point without which the aboveconversation would remain obscure. The Vedantins and the followers ofShankaracharya's philosophy, in talking of themselves, often avoid usingthe pronoun I, and say, "this body went, " "this hand took, " and so on, in everything concerning the automatic actions of man. The personalpronouns are only used concerning mental and moral processes, such as, "I thought, " "he desired. " The body in their eyes is not the man, butonly a covering to the real man. 

The real interior man possesses many bodies; each of them more subtleand more pure than the preceding; and each of them bears a differentname and is independent of the material body. After death, when theearthly vital principle disintegrates, together with the material body, all these interior bodies join together, and either advance on the wayto Moksha, and are called Deva (divine), though it still has to passmany stadia before the final liberation, or is left on earth, to wanderand to suffer in the invisible world, and, in this case, is calledbhuta. But a Deva has no tangible intercourse with the living. Its onlylink with the earth is its posthumous affection for those it loved inits lifetime, and the power of protecting and influencing them. Loveoutlives every earthly feeling, and a Deva can appear to the belovedones only in their dreams--unless it be as an illusion, which cannotlast, because the body of a Deva undergoes a series of gradual changesfrom the moment it is freed from its earthly bonds; and, with everychange, it grows more intangible, losing every time something of itsobjective nature. It is reborn; it lives and dies in new Lokas orspheres, which gradually become purer and more subjective. At last, having got rid of every shadow of earthly thoughts and desires, itbecomes nothing from a material point of view. It is extinguished likea flame, and, having become one with Parabrahm, it lives the life ofspirit, of which neither our material conception nor our language cangive any idea. But the eternity of Parabrahm is not the eternity of thesoul. The latter, according to a Vedanta expression, is an eternity ineternity. However holy, the life of a soul had its beginning and itsend, and, consequently, no sins and no good actions can be punishedor rewarded in the eternity of Parabrahm. This would be contrary tojustice, disproportionate, to use an expression of Vedanta philosophy. Spirit alone lives in eternity, and has neither beginning nor end, neither limits nor central point. The Deva lives in Parabrahm, as adrop lives in the ocean, till the next regeneration of the universefrom Pralaya; a periodical chaos, a disappearance of the worlds from theregion of objectivity. With every new Maha-yuga (great cycle) theDeva separates from that which is eternal, attracted by existence inobjective worlds, like a drop of water first drawn up by the sun, then starting again downwards, passing from one region to another, andreturning at last to the dirt of our planet. Then, having dwelt therewhilst a small cycle lasted, it proceeds again upwards on the other sideof the circle. So it gravitates in the eternity of Parabrahm, passingfrom one minor eternity to another. Each of these "human, " that is tosay conceivable, eternities consists of 4, 320, 000, 000 years of objectivelife and of as many years of subjective life in Parabrahm, altogether8, 640, 000, 000 years, which are enough, in the eyes of the Vedantins, toredeem any mortal sin, and also to reap the fruit of any good actionsperformed in such a short period as human life. The individuality of thesoul, teaches the Vedanta, is not lost when plunged in Parabrahm, as issupposed by some of the European Orientalists. 

Only the souls of bhutas--when the last spark of repentance and oftendency to improvement are extinguished in them--will evaporate forever. Then their divine spirit, the undying part of them, separates fromthe soul and returns to its primitive source; the soul is reduced toits primordial atoms, and the monad plunges into the darkness ofeternal unconsciousness. This is the only case of total destruction ofpersonality. 

Such is the Vedanta teaching concerning the spiritual man. And thisis why no true Hindu believes in the disembodied souls voluntarilyreturning to earth, except in the case of bhutas. 

Jubblepore

Leaving Malva and Indore, the quasi-independent country of Holkar, wefound ourselves once more on strictly British territory. We were goingto Jubblepore by railway. 

This town is situated in the district of Saugor and Nerbudda; onceit belonged to the Mahrattis, but, in 1817, the English army tookpossession of it. We stopped in the town only for a short time, beinganxious to see the celebrated Marble Rocks. As it would have been a pityto lose a whole day, we hired a boat and started at 2 A. M. , which gaveus the double advantage of avoiding the heat, and enjoying a splendidbit of the river ten miles from the town. 

The neighborhood of Jubblepore is charming; and besides, both ageologist and a mineralogist would find here the richest field forscientific researches. The geological formation of the rocks offers aninfinite variety of granites; and the long chains of mountains mightkeep a hundred of Cuviers busy for life. The limestone caves ofJubblepore are a true ossuary of antediluvian India; they are full ofskeletons of monstrous animals, now disappeared for ever. 

At a considerable distance from the rest of the mountain ridges, andperfectly separate, stand the Marble Rocks, a most wonderful naturalphenomenon, not very rare, though, in India. On the flattish banks ofthe Nerbudda, overgrown with thick bushes, you suddenly perceive a longrow of strangely-shaped white cliffs. 

They are there without any apparent reason, as if they were a wart onthe smooth cheek of mother nature. White and pure, they are heaped upon each other as if after some plan, and look exactly like a hugepaperweight from the writing-table of a Titan. We saw them when we werehalf-way from the town. They appeared and disappeared with the suddencapricious turnings of the river; trembling in the early morning mistlike a distant, deceitful mirage of the desert. Then we lost sight ofthem altogether. But just before sunrise they stood out once more beforeour charmed eyes, floating above their reflected image in the water. Asif called forth by the wand of a sorcerer, they stood there on the greenbank of the Nerbudda, mirroring their virgin beauty on the calm surfaceof the lazy stream, and promising us a cool and welcome shelter. .. . Andas to the preciousness of every moment of the cool hours before sunrise, it can be appreciated only by those who have lived and traveled in thisfiery land. 

Alas! in spite of all our precautions, and our unusually early start, our enjoyment of this cool retreat was very short-lived. Our project wasto have prosaic tea amid these poetic surroundings; but as soon as welanded, the sun leaped above the horizon, and began shooting his fieryarrows at the boat, and at our unfortunate heads. Persecuting us fromone place to another, he banished us, at last, even from under a hugerock hanging over the water. There was literally no place where wecould seek salvation. The snow-white marble beauties became golden red, pouring fire-sparks into the river, heating the sand and blinding oureyes. 

No wonder that legend supposes in them something between the abode andthe incarnation of Kali, the fiercest of all the goddesses of the Hindupantheon. 

For many Yugas this goddess has been engaged in a desperate contestwith her lawful husband Shiva, who, in his shape of Trikutishvara, athree-headed lingam, has dishonestly claimed the rocks and the river forhis own--the very rocks and the very river over which Kali presides inperson. And this is why people hear dreadful moaning, coming from underthe ground, every time that the hand of an irresponsible coolie, workingby Government orders in Government quarries, breaks a stone from thewhite bosom of the goddess. The unhappy stone-breaker hears the cry andtrembles, and his heart is torn between the expectations of a dreadfulpunishment from the bloodthirsty goddess and the fear of his implacablyexacting inspector in case he disobeys his orders. 

Kali is the owner of the Marble Rocks, but she is the patroness of theex-Thugs as well. Many a lonely traveler has shuddered on hearing thisname; many a bloodless sacrifice has been offered on the marble altarof Kali. The country is full of horrible tales about the achievementsof the Thugs, accomplished in the honor of this goddess. These talesare too recent and too fresh in the popular memory to become as yetmere highly-colored legends. They are mostly true, and many of them areproved by official documents of the law courts and inquest commissions. 

If England ever leaves India, the perfect suppression of Thugism will beone of the good memories that will linger in the country long afterher departure. Under this name was practised in India during two longcenturies the craftiest and the worst kind of homicide. Only after 1840was it discovered that its aim was simply robbery and brigandage. The falsely interpreted symbolical meaning of Kali was nothing but apretext, otherwise there would not have been so many Mussulmans amongsther devotees. When they were caught at last, and had to answer beforejustice, most of these knights of the rumal--the handkerchief with whichthe operation of strangling was performed--proved to be Mussulmans. Themost illustrious of their leaders were not Hindus, but followers of theProphet, the celebrated Ahmed, for instance. Out of thirty-seven Thugscaught by the police there were twenty-two Mahometans. This provesperfectly clearly that their religion, having nothing in common with theHindu gods, had nothing to do with their cruel profession; the reasonand cause was robbery. 

It is true though that the final initiation rite was performed in somedeserted forest before an idol of Bhavani, or Kali, wearing a necklaceof human skulls. Before this final initiation the candidates had toundergo a course of schooling, the most difficult part of which wasa certain trick of throwing the rumal on the neck of the unsuspectingvictim and strangling him, so that death might be instantaneous. Inthe initiation the part of the goddess was made manifest in the use ofcertain symbols, which are in common use amongst the Freemasons--forinstance, an unsheathed dagger, a human skull, and the corpse ofHiram-Abiff, "son of the widow, " brought back to life by the GrandMaster of the lodge. Kali was nothing but the pretext for an imposingscenarium. Freemasonry and Thugism had many points of resemblance. The members of both recognized each other by certain signs, both had apass-word and a jargon that no outsider could understand. The Freemasonlodges receive among their members both Christians and Atheists; theThugs used to receive the thieves and robbers of every nation withoutany distinction; and it is reported that amongst them there were somePortuguese and even Englishmen. The difference between the two is thatthe Thugs certainly were a criminal organization, whereas the Freemasonsof our days do no harm, except to their own pockets. 

Poor Shiva, wretched Bhavani! What a mean interpretation popularignorance has invented for these two poetical types, so deeplyphilosophical and so full of knowledge of the laws of nature. Shiva, inhis primitive meaning is "Happy God"; then the all-destroying, as wellas the all-regenerating force of nature. The Hindu trinity is, amongstother things, an allegorical representation of the three chief elements:fire, earth and water. Brahma, Vishnu and Shiva all represent theseelements by turns, in their different phases; but Shiva is much more thegod of the fire than either Brahma or Vishnu: he burns and purifies; atthe same time creating out of the ashes new forms, full of fresh life. Shiva-Sankarin is the destroyer or rather the scatterer; Shiva-Rakshakais the preserver, the regenerator. He is represented with flames onhis left palm, and with the wand of death and resurrection in his righthand. His worshippers wear on their foreheads his sign traced with wetashes, the ashes being called vibhuti, or purified substance, and thesign consisting of three horizontal parallel lines between the eyebrows. The color of Shiva's skin is rosy-yellow, gradually changing into aflaming red. His neck, head and arms are covered with snakes, emblemsof eternity and eternal regeneration. "As a serpent, abandoning his oldslough, reappears in new skin, so man after death reappears in a youngerand a purer body, " say the Puranas. 

In her turn, Shiva's wife Kali is the allegory of earth, fructifiedby the flames of the sun. Her educated worshippers say they allowthemselves to believe their goddess is fond of human sacrifices, only onthe strength of the fact that earth is fond of organical decomposition, which fertilizes her, and helps her to call forth new forces from theashes of the dead. The Shivaites, when burning their dead, put an idolof Shiva at the head of the corpse; but when beginning to scatter theashes in the elements, they invoke Bhavani, in order that the goddessmay receive the purified remains, and develop in them germs of new life. But what truth could bear the coarse touch of superstitious ignorancewithout being disfigured!

The murdering Thugs laid their hands on this great philosophic emblem, and, having understood that the goddess loves human sacrifice, but hatesuseless blood-shed, they resolved to please her doubly: to kill, butnever to soil their hands by the blood of their victims. The result ofit was the knighthood of the rumal. 

One day we visited a very aged ex-Thug. In his young days he wastransported to the Andaman Islands, but, owing to his sincererepentance, and to some services he had rendered to the Government, he was afterwards pardoned. Having returned to his native village, hesettled down to earn his living by weaving ropes, a profession probablysuggested to him by some sweet reminiscences of the achievements of hisyouth. He initiated us first into the mysteries of theoretic Thugism, and then extended his hospitality by a ready offer to show us thepractical side of it, if we agreed to pay for a sheep. He said he wouldgladly show us how easy it was to send a living being ad patres in lessthan three seconds; the whole secret consisting in some skillful andswift movements of the righthand finger joints. 

We refused to buy the sheep for this old brigand, but we gave himsome money. To show his gratitude he offered to demonstrate all thepreliminary sensation of the rumal on any English or American neck thatwas willing. Of course, he said he would omit the final twist. But stillnone of us were willing; and the gratitude of the repentant criminalfound issue in great volubility. 

The owl is sacred to Bhavani Kali, and as soon as a band of Thugs, awaiting their victims, had been signalled by the conventional hooting, each of the travelers, let them be twenty and more, had a Thug behindhis shoulders. One second more, and the rumal was on the neck of thevictim, the well-trained iron fingers of the Thug tightly holding theends of the sacred handkerchief; another second, the joints of thefingers performed their artistic twist, pressing the larynx, and thevictim fell down lifeless. Not a sound, not a shriek! The Thugs worked, as swiftly as lightning. The strangled man was immediately carried to agrave prepared in some thick forest, usually under the bed of some brookor rivulet in their periodical state of drought. Every vestige of thevictim disappeared. Who cared to know about him, except his own familyand his very intimate friends? The inquests were especially difficult, if not impossible, thirty years ago [1879], when there were no regularrailway communications, and no regular Government system. Besides, thecountry is full of tigers, whose sad fate it is to be responsible forevery one else's sins as well as for their own. Whoever it was whohappened to disappear, be it Hindu or Mussulman, the answer wasinvariably the same: tigers!

The Thugs possessed a wonderfully good organization. Trained accomplicesused to tramp all over India, stopping at the bazaars, those true clubsof Eastern nations, gathering information, scaring their listeners todeath with tales of the Thugs, and then advising them to join this orthat travelling party, who of course were Thugs playing the part of richmerchants or pilgrims. Having ensnared these wretches, they sent wordto the Thugs, and got paid for the commission in proportion to the totalprofit. 

During many long years these invisible bands, scattered all over thecountry, and working in parties of from ten to sixty men, enjoyedperfect freedom, but at last they were caught. The inquiries unveiledhorrid and repulsive secrets: rich bankers, officiating Brahmans, Rajason the brink of poverty, and a few English officials, all had to bebrought before justice. 

This deed of the East India Company truly deserves the popular gratitudewhich it receives. ----

On our way back from the Marble Rocks we saw Muddun-Mahal, anothermysterious curio; it is a house built--no one knows by whom, or withwhat purpose--on a huge boulder. This stone is probably some kind ofrelative to the cromlechs of the Celtic Druids. It shakes at the leasttouch, together with the house and the people who feel curious to seeinside it. Of course we had this curiosity, and our noses remained safeonly thanks to the Babu, Narayan and the Takur, who took as great careof us as if they had been nurses, and we their babies. 

Natives of India are truly a wonderful people. However unsteady thething may be, they are sure to walk on it, and sit on it, with thegreatest comfort. They think nothing of sitting whole hours on the topof a post--maybe a little thicker than an ordinary telegraph post. Theyalso feel perfectly safe with their toes twisted round a thin branchand their bodies resting on nothing, as if they were crows perched on atelegraph wire. 

"Salam, sahib!" said I once to an ancient, naked Hindu of a low caste, seated in the above described fashion. "Are you comfortable, uncle? Andare you not afraid of falling down?"

"Why should I fall?" seriously answered the "uncle, " expectorating ared fountain--an unavoidable result of betel-chewing. "I do not breathe, mam-sahib!"

"What do you mean? A man cannot do without breathing!" exclaimed I, agood deal astonished by this wonderful bit of information. 

"Oh yes, he can. I do not breathe just now, and so I am perfectly safe. But soon I shall have to fill up my breast again with fresh air, andthen I will hold on to the post, otherwise I should fall. "

After this astounding physiological information, we parted. He would nottalk any more, evidently fearing to endanger his comfort. At thattime, we did not receive any more explanations on the subject, but thisincident was enough to disturb the scientific equanimity of our minds. 

Till then, we were so naive as to fancy that only sturgeons and similaraquatic acrobats were clever enough to learn how to fill up theirinsides with air in order to become lighter, and to rise to the surfaceof the water. What is possible to a sturgeon is impossible to man, speculated we in our ignorance. So we agreed to look upon the revelationof the above described "uncle" in the light of a brag, having no otheraim but to chaff the "white sahibs. " In those days, we were stillinexperienced, and inclined to resent this kind of information, as coming very near to mockery. But, later on, we learned that hisdescription of the process necessary to keep up this birdlike posturewas perfectly accurate. In Jubblepore we saw much greater wonders. Strolling along the river bank, we reached the so-called Fakirs' Avenue;and the Takur invited us to visit the courtyard of the pagoda. This is asacred place, and neither Europeans nor Mussulmans are admitted inside. But Gulab-Sing said something to the chief Brahman, and we enteredwithout hindrance. 

The yard was full of devotees, and of ascetics. But our attentionwas especially attracted by three ancient, perfectly naked fakirs. Aswrinkled as baked mushrooms, as thin as skeletons, crowned with twistedmasses of white hair, they sat or rather stood in the most impossiblepostures, as we thought. One of them, literally leaning only on thepalm of his right hand, was poised with his head downwards and his legsupwards; his body was as motionless as if he were the dry branch of atree. Just a little above the ground his head rose in the most unnaturalposition, and his eyes were fixed on the glaring sun. I cannot guaranteethe truthfulness of some talkative inhabitants of the town, who hadjoined our party, and who assured us that this fakir daily spendsin this posture all the hours between noon and the sunset. But I canguarantee that not a muscle of his body moved during the hour and twentyminutes we spent amongst the fakirs. Another fakir stood on a "sacredstone of Shiva, " a small stone about five inches in diameter. One ofhis legs was curled up under him, and the whole of his body was bentbackwards into an arc; his eyes also were fixed on the sun. The palms ofhis hands were pressed together as if in prayer. He seemed glued to hisstone. We were at a loss to imagine by what means this man came to bemaster of such equilibration. 

The third of these wonderful people sat crossing his legs under him; buthow he could sit was more than we could understand, because the thing onwhich he sat was a stone lingam, not higher than an ordinary street postand little wider than the "stone of Shiva, " that is to say, hardly morethan five or seven inches in diameter. His arms were crossed behind hisback, and his nails had grown into the flesh of his shoulders. 

"This one never changes his position, " said one of our companions. "Atleast, he has not changed for the last seven years. "

His usual food, or rather drink, is milk, which is brought to him oncein every forty-eight hours and poured into his throat with the aid of abamboo. Every ascetic has willing servants, who are also future fakirs, whose duty it is to attend on them; and so the disciples of this livingmummy take him off his pedestal, wash him in the tank, and put him backlike an inanimate object, because he can no longer stretch his limbs. 

"And what if I were to push one of these fakirs?" asked I. "I daresaythe least touch would upset them. "

"Try!" laughingly advised the Takur. "In this state of religious tranceit is easier to break a man to pieces than to remove him from hisplace. "

To touch an ascetic in the state of trance is a sacrilege in the eyes ofthe Hindus; but evidently the Takur was well aware that, under certaincircumstances, there may be exceptions to every Brahmanical rule. Hehad another aside with the chief Brahman, who followed us, darker than athundercloud; the consultation did not last long, and after it wasover Gulab-Sing declared to us that none of us was allowed to touch thefakirs, but that he personally had obtained this permission, and so wasgoing to show us something still more astonishing. 

He approached the fakir on the little stone, and, carefully holding himby his protruding ribs, he lifted him and put him on the ground. Theascetic remained as statuesque as before. Then Gulab-Sing took the stonein his hands and showed it to us, asking us, however, not to touch itfor fear of offending the crowd. The stone was round, flattish, withrather an uneven surface. When laid on the ground it shook at the leasttouch. 

"Now, you see that this pedestal is far from being steady. And also youhave seen that, under the weight of the fakir, it is as immovable as ifit were planted in the ground. "

When the fakir was put back on the stone, he and it at once resumedtheir appearance, as of one single body, solidly joined to the ground, and not a line of the fakir's body had changed. By all appearance, hisbending body and his head thrown backward sought to bring him down; butfor this fakir there was evidently no such thing as the law of gravity. 

What I have described is a fact, but I do not take upon myself toexplain it. At the gates of the pagoda we found our shoes, which we hadbeen told to take off before going in. We put them on again, and leftthis "holy of holies" of the secular mysteries, with our minds stillmore perplexed than before. In the Fakirs' Avenue we found Narayan, Mulji and the Babu, who were waiting for us. The chief Brahman wouldnot hear of their entering the pagoda. All the three had long beforereleased themselves from the iron claws of caste; they openly ateand drank with us, and for this offence they were regarded asexcommunicated, and despised by their compatriots much more than theEuropeans themselves. Their presence in the pagoda would have pollutedit for ever, whereas the pollution brought by us was only temporary; itwould evaporate in the smoke of cow-dung--the usual Brahmanical incenseof purification--like a drop of muddy water in the rays of the sun. 

India is the country for originalities and everything unexpected andunconventional. From the point of view of an ordinary European observerevery feature of Indian life is contrary to what could be expected. Shaking the head from one shoulder to another means no in every othercountry, but in India it means an emphatic yes. If you ask a Hinduhow his wife is, even if you are well acquainted with her, or how manychildren he has, or whether he has any sisters, he will feel offended innine cases out of ten. So long as the host does not point to the door, having previously sprinkled the guest with rose-water, the latter wouldnot think of leaving. He would stay the whole day without tasting anyfood, and lose his time, rather than offend his host by an unauthorizeddeparture. Everything contradicts our Western ideas. The Hindus arestrange and original, but their religion is still more original. It hasits dark points, of course. The rites of some sects are truly repulsive;the officiating Brahmans are far from being without reproach. But theseare only superficialities. In spite of them the Hindu religion possessessomething so deeply and mysteriously irresistible that it attracts andsubdues even unimaginative Englishmen. 

The following incident is a curious instance of this fascination:

N. C. Paul, G. B. M. C. , wrote a small, but very interesting and veryscientific pamphlet. He was only a regimental surgeon in Benares, but his name was well known amongst his compatriots as a very learnedspecialist in physiology. The pamphlet was called A Treatise on theYoga Philosophy, and produced a sensation amongst the representativesof medicine in India, and a lively polemic between the Anglo-Indian andnative journalists. Dr. Paul spent thirty-five years in studying theextraordinary facts of Yogism, the existence of which was, for him, beyond all doubt. He not only described them, but explained some ofthe most extraordinary phenomena, for instance, levitation, the seemingevidence to the contrary of some laws of nature, notwithstanding. Withperfect sincerity, and evident regret, Dr. Paul says he could neverlearn anything from the Raj-Yogis. His experience was almost whollylimited to the facts that fakirs and Hatha-Yogis would consent to givehim. It was his great friendship with Captain Seymour chiefly whichhelped him to penetrate some mysteries, which, till then, were supposedto be impenetrable. 

The history of this English gentleman is truly incredible, and produced, about twenty-five years ago, an unprecedented scandal in the records ofthe British army in India. Captain Seymour, a wealthy and well-educatedofficer, accepted the Brahmanical creed and became a Yogi. Of course hewas proclaimed mad, and, having been caught, was sent back to England. Seymour escaped, and returned to India in the dress of a Sannyasi. Hewas caught again, and shut up in some lunatic asylum in London. Threedays after, in spite of the bolts and the watchmen, he disappeared fromthe establishment. Later on his acquaintances saw him in Benares, andthe governor-general received a letter from him from the Himalayas. Inthis letter he declared that he never was mad, in spite of his being putinto a hospital; he advised the governor-general not to interferewith what was strictly his own private concern, and announced his firmresolve never to return to civilized society. "I am a Yogi, " wrote he, "and I hope to obtain before I die what is the aim of my life--to becomea Raj-Yogi. " After this letter he was left alone, and no Europeanever saw him except Dr. Paul, who, as it is reported, was in constantcorrespondence with him, and even went twice to see him in the Himalayasunder the pretext of botanic excursions. 

I was told that the pamphlet of Dr. Paul was ordered to be burned "asbeing offensive to the science of physiology and pathology. " At thetime I visited India copies of it were very great rarities. Out of a fewcopies still extant, one is to be found in the library of the Maharajaof Benares, and another was given to me by the Takur. 

This evening we dined at the refreshment rooms of the railway station. Our arrival caused an evident sensation. Our party occupied the wholeend of a table, at which were dining many first-class passengers, whoall stared at us with undisguised astonishment. Europeans on an equalfooting with Hindus! Hindus who condescended to dine with Europeans!These two were rare and wonderful sights indeed. The subdued whispersgrew into loud exclamations. Two officers who happened to know the Takurtook him aside, and, having shaken hands with him, began a very animatedconversation, as if discussing some matter of business; but, as welearned afterwards, they simply wanted to gratify their curiosity aboutus. 

Here we learned, for the first time, that we were under policesupervision, the police being represented by an individual clad in asuit of white clothes, and possessing a very fresh complexion, and apair of long moustaches. He was an agent of the secret police, and hadfollowed us from Bombay. On learning this flattering piece of news, the colonel burst into a loud laugh; which only made us still moresuspicious in the eyes of all these Anglo-Indians, enjoying a quiet anddignified meal. As to me, I was very disagreeably impressed by this bitof news, I must confess, and wished this unpleasant dinner was over. 

The train for Allahabad was to leave at eight P. M. , and we were tospend the night in the railway carriage. We had ten reserved seats in afirst-class carriage, and had made sure that no strange passengers wouldenter it, but, nevertheless, there were many reasons which made me thinkI could not sleep this night. So I obtained a provision of candlesfor my reading lamp, and making myself comfortable on my couch, beganreading the pamphlet of Dr. Paul, which interested me greatly. 

Amongst many other interesting things, Dr. Paul explains very fully andlearnedly the mystery of the periodical suspension of breathing, andsome other seemingly impossible phenomena, practised by the Yogis. 

Here is his theory in brief. The Yogis have discovered the reason of thewondrous capacity of the chameleon to assume the appearance of plumpnessor of leanness. This animal looks enormous when his lungs are filledwith air, but in his normal condition he is quite insignificant. Manyother reptiles as well acquire the possibility of swimming across largerivers quite easily by the same process. And the air that remains intheir lungs, after the blood has been fully oxygenated, makes themextraordinarily lively on dry land and in the water. The capacity ofstoring up an extraordinary provision of air is a characteristic featureof all the animals that are subjected to hibernation. 

The Hindu Yogis studied this capacity, and perfected and developed it inthemselves. 

The means by which they acquire it--known under the name of BhastrikaKumbhala--consist of the following: The Yogi isolates himself in anunderground cave, where the atmosphere is more uniform and more dampthan on the surface of the earth: this causes the appetite to grow less. Man's appetite is proportionate to the quantity of carbonic acid heexhales in a certain period of time. The Yogis never use salt, and liveentirely on milk, which they take only during the night. They move veryslowly in order not to breathe too often. Movement increases theexhaled carbonic acid, and so the Yoga practice prescribes avoidanceof movement. The quantity of exhaled carbonic acid is also increased byloud and lively talking: so the Yogis are taught to talk slowly andin subdued tones, and are even advised to take the vows of silence. Physical labor is propitious to the increase of carbonic acid, andmental to its decrease; accordingly the Yogi spends his life incontemplation and deep meditation. Padmasana and Siddhasana are the twomethods by which a person is taught to breathe as little as possible. 

Suka-Devi, a well-known miracle-monger of the second century B. C. Says:

"Place the left foot upon the right thigh, and the right foot upon theleft thigh; straighten the neck and back; make the palms of the handsrest upon the knees; shut the mouth; and expire forcibly through bothnostrils. Next, inspire and expire quickly until you are fatigued. Theninspire through the right nostril, fill the abdomen with the inspiredair, suspend the breath, and fix the sight on the tip of the nose. Thenexpire through the left nostril, and next, inspiring through the leftnostril, suspend the breath. .. " and so on. 

"When a Yogi, by practice, is enabled to maintain himself in one of theabove-mentioned postures for the period of three hours, and to live upona quantity of food proportional to the reduced condition of circulationand respiration, without inconvenience, he proceeds to the practiceof Pranayama, " writes Dr. Paul. "It is the fourth stage or division ofYoga. "

The Pranayama consists of three parts. The first excites the secretionof sweat, the second is attended by convulsive movements of thefeatures, the third gives to the Yogi a feeling of extraordinarylightness in his body. 

After this, the Yogi practises Pratyahara, a kind of voluntary trance, which is recognizable by the full suspension of all the senses. Afterthis stage the Yogis study the process of Dharana; this not only stopsthe activity of physical senses, but also causes the mental capacitiesto be plunged into a deep torpor. This stage brings abundant suffering;it requires a good deal of firmness and resolution on the part of aYogi, but it leads him to Dhayana, a state of perfect, indescribablebliss. According to their own description, in this state they swim inthe ocean of eternal light, in Akasha, or Ananta Jyoti, which theycall the "Soul of the Universe. " Reaching the stage of Dhyana, the Yogibecomes a seer. The Dhyana of the Yogis is the same thing as TuriyaAvastha of the Vedantins, in the number of whom are the Raj-Yogis. 

"Samadhi is the last stage of self-trance, " says Dr. Paul. "In thisstate the Yogis, like the bat, the hedge-hog, the marmot, the hamsterand the dormouse, acquire the power of supporting the abstraction ofatmospheric air, and the privation of food and drink. Of Samadhior human hibernation there have been three cases within the lasttwenty-five years. The first case occurred in Calcutta, the second inJesselmere, and the third in the Punjab. I was an eyewitness of thefirst case. The Jesselmere, the Punjab, and the Calcutta Yogis assumeda death-like condition by swallowing the tongue. How the Punjabi fakir(witnessed by Dr. McGregor), by suspending his breath, lived forty dayswithout food and drink, is a question which has puzzled a great manylearned men of Europe. .. . It is on the principle of Laghima and Garima(a diminution of one's specific gravity by swallowing large draughtsof air) that the Brahman of Madras maintained himself in an aerialposture. .. "

However, all these are physical phenomena produced by Hatha-Yogis. Eachof them ought to be investigated by physical science, but they are muchless interesting than the phenomena of the region of psychology. But Dr. Paul has next to nothing to say on this subject. During the thirty-fiveyears of his Indian career, he met only three Raj-Yogis; but in spiteof the friendliness they showed to the English doctor, none of themconsented to initiate him into the mysteries of nature, a knowledge ofwhich is ascribed to them. One of them simply denied that he had anypower at all; the other did not deny, and even showed Dr. Paul some verywonderful things, but refused to give any explanations whatever; thethird said he would explain a few things on the condition that Dr. Paulmust pledge himself never to repeat anything he learned from him. Inacquiring this kind of information, Dr. Paul had only one aim--to givethese secrets publicity, and to enlighten the public ignorance, and sohe declined the honor. 

However, the gifts of the true Raj-Yogis are much more interesting, anda great deal more important for the world, than the phenomena of thelay Hatha-Yogis. These gifts are purely psychic: to the knowledge ofthe Hatha-Yogis the Raj-Yogis add the whole scale of mental phenomena. Sacred books ascribe to them the following gifts: foreseeing futureevents; understanding of all languages; the healing of all diseases; theart of reading other people's thoughts; witnessing at will everythingthat happens thousands of miles from them; understanding the languageof animals and birds; Prakamya, or the power of keeping up youthfulappearance during incredible periods of time; the power of abandoningtheir own bodies and entering other people's frames; Vashitva, or thegift to kill, and to tame wild animals with their eyes; and, lastly, themesmeric power to subjugate any one, and to force any one to obey theunexpressed orders of the Raj-Yogi. 

Dr. Paul has witnessed the few phenomena of Hatha-Yoga alreadydescribed; there are many others about which he has heard, and whichhe neither believes nor disbelieves. But he guarantees that a Yogi cansuspend his breath for forty-three minutes and twelve seconds. 

Nevertheless, European scientific authorities maintain that no one cansuspend the breath for more than two minutes. O science! Is it possiblethen that thy name is also vanitas vanitatum, like the other things ofthis world?

We are forced to suppose that, in Europe, nothing is known about themeans which enabled the philosophers of India, from times immemorial, gradually to transform their human frames. 

Here are a few deep words of Professor Boutleroff, a Russian scientistwhom I, in common with all Russians, greatly respect: ". .. . All thisbelongs to knowledge; the increase of the mass of knowledge willonly enrich and not abolish science. This must be accomplished on thestrength of serious observation, of study, of experience, and under theguidance of positive scientific methods, by which people are taught toacknowledge every other phenomenon of nature. We do not call you blindlyto accept hypotheses, after the example of bygone years, but to seekafter knowledge; we do not invite you to give up science, but to enlargeher regions. .. "

This was said about spiritualist phenomena. As to the rest of ourlearned physiologists, this is, approximately, what they have theright to say: "We know well certain phenomena of nature which we havepersonally studied and investigated, under certain conditions, whichwe call normal or abnormal, and we guarantee the accuracy of ourconclusions. "

However, it would be very well if they added:

"But having no pretensions to assure the world that we are acquaintedwith all the forces of nature, known and unknown, we do not claim theright to hold back other people from bold investigations in regionswhich we have not reached as yet, owing to our great cautiousness andalso to our moral timidity. Not being able to maintain that the humanorganism is utterly incapable of developing certain transcendentalpowers, which are rare, and observable only under certain conditions, unknown to science, we by no means wish to keep other explorers withinthe limits of our own scientific discoveries. "

By pronouncing this noble, and, at the same time, modest speech, ourphysiologists would doubtless gain the undying gratitude of posterity. 

After this speech there would be no fear of mockery, no danger oflosing one's reputation for veracity and sound reason; and the learnedcolleagues of these broad-minded physiologists would investigate everyphenomenon of nature seriously and openly. The phenomena of spiritualismwould then transmigrate from the region of materialized"mothers-in-law" and half-witted fortune-telling to the regions of thepsycho-physiological sciences. The celebrated "spirits" would probablyevaporate, but in their stead the living spirit, which "belongeth not tothis world, " would become better known and better realized by humanity, because humanity will comprehend the harmony of the whole only afterlearning how closely the visible world is bound to the world invisible. 

After this speech, Haeckel at the head of the evolutionists, and AlfredRussel Wallace at the head of the spiritualists, would be relieved frommany anxieties, and would shake hands in brotherhood. 

Seriously speaking, what is there to prevent humanity from acknowledgingtwo active forces within itself; one purely animal, the other purelydivine?

It does not behove even the greatest amongst scientists to try to"bind the sweet influences of the Pleiades, " even if they have chosen"Arcturus with his sons" for their guides. Did it never occur to themto apply to their own intellectual pride the questions the "voice out ofthe whirlwind" once asked of long-suffering Job: "where were they whenwere laid the foundations of the earth? and have the gates of death beenopened unto them?" If so, only then have they the right to maintain thathere and not there is the abode of eternal light. 

The End