Wanderings of a pilgrim in search of the picturesque, Volume 2 (of 2)

1837, Aug.—The first few days in this month we were blessed with cooling and heavy rain. On the 6th, the annual festival of the Jenem, or birthday, and the sports of Krishnŭ, the Bāiza Bā’ī invited me to the camp: on my arrival I found her Highness seated under a large mango tree; from one of its boughs a swing was suspended, in which the Gaja Rājā and another lady were amusing themselves. This festival, in celebration of the sports of the most popular of the Hindoo deities, was held in all due form by the Mahrattas; it took place by torch-light, in the cool of the evening. In the forests on the banks of the Yamuna Krishnŭ passed his time, playing on the flute, swinging under the trees, dancing, and sporting with the gopīs. The young Princess was therefore amusing herself in the swing as a necessary ceremony; after which, some sixty or eighty Mahratta women came forward, and performed several dances sacred to the season, singing as they moved on the turf, in a circular dance called the rās, in imitation of the gopīs; and the “Songs of Govinda,” as addressed by Kaniyā to Radha and her companions, were rehearsed at this festival, with a scenic representation of Kaniyā and the gopīs. “The listener could not depart after once hearing the sound of the flute, and the tinkling of the gopias’ feet; nor could the birds stir a wing; while the pupils of the gopias’ eyes all turned towards Creeshna.”

Her Highness presented a rich dress of yellow silk, embroidered with gold, and a pair of Indian shawls of the same colour, to the Gaja Rājā, and to many of the ladies in attendance; yellow being the favourite and distinguishing colour of the attire of the beloved of the gopīs. On the arms of the young Mahratta Princess and another lady, the rākhī was bound at the desire of the Bāiza Bā’ī; the rākhī is also commemorative of Krishnŭ: the gift is esteemed a high honour, and the mark of the greatest favour. The value of so distinguished an honour may be better estimated by the following extract from Colonel Tod’s “Annals of Mewar.”

“The festival of the bracelet (rākhī) is in spring; and whatever its origin, it is one of the few when an intercourse of gallantry of the most delicate nature is established between the fair sex and the cavaliers of Rajast’han. Though the bracelet may be sent by maidens, it is only on occasions of urgent necessity or danger. The Rajpūt dame bestows with the rākhī the title of adopted brother; and while its acceptance secures to her all the protection of a ‘cavalière servente,’ scandal itself never suggests any other tie to his devotion. He may hazard his life in her cause, and yet never receive a smile in reward; for he cannot even see the fair object, who, as brother of her adoption, has constituted him her defender. But there is a charm in the mystery of such a connexion never endangered by close observation, and the loyal to the fair may well attach a value to the public recognition of being the Rākhī-bund Bha’e, the ‘bracelet-bound brother’ of a Princess. The intrinsic value of such a pledge is never looked to, nor is it requisite that it should be costly, though it varies with the means and rank of the donor, and may be of flock silk and spangles, or gold chains and gems. The acceptance of the pledge and its return is by the katchli or corset of simple silk or satin, or gold brocade and pearls. In shape or application there is nothing similar in Europe, and, as defending the most delicate part of the structure of the fair, it is peculiarly appropriate as an emblem of devotion.”

The rākhī is not exclusively bestowed upon men; a woman may be distinguished by the honour, and would be publicly acknowledged and considered as the “bracelet-bound sister” of the donor.

The evening closed with the performances of some Mahratta nāch girls, after which I was allowed to depart, having first partaken of some sweetmeats, which they presented to me with a jar of dahī (curdled milk); the latter was excellent, and usually presented at this festival as the favourite food of the gopīs. I returned home late at night, accompanied as usual by the horsemen and torch-bearers of the Bāiza Bā’ī.

I have many idols, images of Krishnŭ, in divers forms; a description of which, with a sketch of his life, will be the best explanation of the scenes commemorated at the festival. He has many names, Krishnŭ, Heri, Kaniyā, and is worshipped under many forms; the idols represent this popular god through many of the events of his life.

KRISHNŬ OR KANIYĀ.

Vishnŭ the Preserver descended on earth in the form of this god, for the purpose of bringing peace and happiness to all the world. Krishnŭ is the most celebrated form of Vishnŭ, or, rather, Vishnŭ himself; and is distinct from the ten avatars or incarnations. Many of the Hindū gods govern their worshippers by fear; the dread of the vengeance of the deity ensures obedience. Krishnŭ is the god of love and good-will: to bless mankind caused his descent from heaven; and after many years’ sojourn upon earth for that holy purpose, he suddenly disappeared.

Such was his power over the affections, that no woman ever beheld Kaniyā-jee, but she left home and husband and children, and followed him throughout the world; no eye gazed upon him that loved him not; and to this day, the beautiful, warlike, and amorous Krishnŭ is the most popular deity, and especially revered by Hindūstanī women.

His parents were Vasudeva and Dewarkī; but he was brought up in the house of Nanda and Gosodā. In his infant days his life was sought: to preserve the child, and to conceal him from the tyrant Kansa, to whom it had been predicted that a child, the eighth of his family, would destroy him, his uncle fled with him to the banks of the Jumna: the pursuers were at his heels, escape was impossible; the infant god commanded the waters to open a passage for him; the waters heard and obeyed the command, they stood like a wall on the right side and on the left; Krishnŭ was carried across by his relative; on reaching the opposite bank, the waters flowed on as before, and cut off the pursuit of his enemies.

The city of Mathurā is celebrated as the birth-place of Krishnŭ. In the family of Nanda he passed his youth amidst the gopas and gopīs. During his childhood he vanquished the serpent Kāliya, and slew many giants and monsters: afterwards he put the tyrant Kansa to death, and kindled the mahā-bārat or Great War. He is the Apollo of the Hindūs, and is supposed by Colonel Wilford to have lived about thirteen hundred years before Christ. Krishnŭ is a terrestrial god, and is represented by the image in black marble that stands on the right of Ganesh, in the frontispiece of the first volume; I procured it at Allahabad during the great fair; it came from Jeypore. The Hindoo deity is represented playing on the flute, an amusement to which he was prone when in the forests, surrounded by the gopīs or milkmaids, who were his ardent admirers and followers; amongst them he had 16,000 lady-loves, besides his lawful wives. The Hindoo code allows of two helpmates, but the laws of man extend not to the gods, and Krishnŭ took unto himself eight wives, each of whom bore him ten sons; also Radha, the beloved, the wife of another, to say nothing of the 16,000 gopīs, each of whom also bore him ten sons. Nevertheless, it is asserted, his life was one of purity, and whatever may tend to give contrary ideas on the subject is all māyā or illusion.

The Bhagavat Purana gives the following:—“In this happy season did Creeshna bestow joy and satisfaction on all living creatures, and often as he touched his flute in the presence of the adoring gopias, one exclaimed, ‘Happy animals, inhabiting Berjeben, who enjoy the sight of Creeshna!’ Another said, ‘O favoured stream of Jumna, and other transparent pools and fountains, whence Creeshna deigns to drink!’ Another exclaimed, ‘Melodious above all is the flute which resides for ever on his lip!’ Another said, ‘O happy trees of this wood, under whose thick shade Creeshna delights to slumber!’ Another said, ‘Honoured above all existing animals are these cattle which the Creator himself leads to pasture!’ Thus did the gopias plunge into the fathomless ocean of love, and admire him who had on a yellow robe, a peacock’s feather on his head, a brilliant rosary round his neck, and a flute on his lip; and they said to each other, ‘How happy are we whom he condescends to love!’ In short, by their purity of faith, and zeal of attachment, their hearts at length became illuminated, and they knew and comprehended that Creeshna was the Creator of the World.”

The Bhagavat Purana gives this personal description:—“He (Akroon) saw also, standing by him, more distinctly, the form of Creeshna, of a black colour, wearing a yellow robe, beautiful to behold; with ruby lips, his neck smooth as white coral, his arms very long and slender, his breast high and bold, his waist of elegant proportion, his legs beautiful beyond expression, his foot like the lotus flower, and his nails red. He had a jewel of inestimable value in his crown, a chowder round his waist, a zennar upon his shoulder, a string of flowers round his neck, a splendid koondel in his ear, the kowstek-men on his arm, and the shankhe, chakra, geda, and kemel, in his hands.”

The work containing the history of this god is very interesting: some of the songs are beautiful, especially those in honour of him who, to the Hindūs, brought peace and happiness upon earth. In many respects the history is thought by Maurice, in his “Indian Antiquities,” to resemble that of our Saviour; on which subject more will be said as we consider another form of Krishnŭ, as the destroyer of the serpent.

The dreadful shell panchajanya, of the great shankhe, or shellfish, whose roar re-echoed from earth to heaven, was used by Krishnŭ as his trumpet.

So devoted were the gopīs to Krishnŭ the beloved, that if he wished to ride an elephant, the lovely ladies, with most extraordinary dexterity, assumed the shape of the animal and bore him off in triumph. The frontispiece to the second volume, entitled “Kaniyā-jee and the Gōpia,” is a fac-simile of an old Hindoo painting commemorative of this feat: the style in which the figures are grouped is very clever, and does much credit to the artist; the original is as highly finished as a miniature painting. The chatr, the emblem of royalty, is borne over his head; peacock’s feathers form the ornament for his forehead; and in his hand is the ankus (the elephant goad) and a lotus flower. The gopīs carry with them their musical instruments; they are adorned with jewels, and the tail of the animal shows the beauty and length of their hair.

The second plate of Kaniyā-jee represents the victorious Heri on a steed formed of the gopīs, bounding and capering beneath their precious burden, while their musical instruments and songs enliven his triumphal career. This is also a fac-simile of an old Hindoo painting, finished with wonderful delicacy and minuteness.

I have a third painting, Krishnŭ, represented in a palanquin formed of the gopīs, in which the arrangement and grouping of the sportive damsels is graceful and elegant. At the festival of the Huli, which is particularly dedicated to Kaniyā, images of the god are carried about on elephants, on horses, and in palanquins, doubtless in commemoration of his sports with the gopīs; in fact, there was no end to their fooleries and diversions at Brindāban, the forest Brindā in the vicinity of Mathurā on the banks of the Jumna. Krishnŭ is always represented of a dark cerulean blue colour (nila), hence his name Nila-nath, and he bears a lotus in his hand. Under the title of Heri, in funeral lamentations, his name only is invoked, and Heri-bol! Heri-bol! is emphatically pronounced by those bearing a corpse to its final destination.

GOPALŬ.

This small brazen idol, fig. 4 in the plate entitled “Jugunnathu,” represents him in his childhood, kneeling on one knee, and holding a pera, sweetmeat, in his right hand, while he petitions his mother, saying, “Mā, mā, mīthā’ī, do;” “Mother, mother, give me sweetmeats.” In this form he is worshipped as gāo, a cow, and palŭ, nourished. These brazen images are particularly in favour, and some, being small and well made, are used as household gods. Sometimes the head of Gopalŭ is surrounded with a crown of glory, as in the sketch; and in drawings, the head of Krishnŭ is generally represented encircled by rays.

GOPĪ NAT’HŬ.

This form represents him peculiarly as the god of the gopīs. Gopī, the wife of a cowherd, and Nat’hŭ, a lord; a young man dancing amongst the wives of the cowherds, the 16,000 gopīs, who ever attended him, and were the companions of his sports.

RADHA KRISHN.

Of all his numerous loves and wives, none had power over his affections equal to Radha, a gopī, whom he carried off from her husband. So great was her influence, that in pūja the preference is given to her, and the two images are worshipped together as “Radha Krishn,” and not as Krishn Radha.

The figure represents the god playing on his flute; and, at his side, the image of Radha, which has one hand extended, and the other turned downwards. Their affection has passed into a proverb: “Apne Radha ko yad ker[19].” As Krishnŭ always thought of Radha, so they say, “Attend to your own Radha,” either in anger or laughingly. The shrine of Radha Krishn has many worshippers; but it is remarkable that none of the lawful wives of Krishnŭ are worshipped with him.

Another figure of Kaniyā-jee in my possession, represents him under a tree playing on his flute; at the back is one of the cows of the sacred herd, whom Krishnŭ attended, for by caste he was a gaōwalla, or cowherd.

Of all the images in my collection the most remarkable is a brazen one, in which this god is represented killing a serpent by crushing it with his foot. The Hindoos affirm there is enmity between the serpent and Krishnŭ. His having his foot on the head of the cobra di capello, which is evident from the expanded hood, is singular, as few Hindoos would kill the holy serpent. This similarity between the Saviour and Krishnŭ is considered by Maurice as worthy of remark.

A sketch of this idol is given, fig. 3, in the plate entitled “Jugunnathu,” where, as the destroyer of Kali-nag, “The black serpent,” which infested the blue waters of the Yamuna or Jumna, he is represented as bruising him with his foot. He had, however, many battles with his adversary ere he conquered him.

The following extract is very poetical:—“One day, in Dwaraka, which is a second Vaicontha, Creeshna was enjoying himself with his relations, and sons, and grand-children, and his 16,000 wives, and all his wealth: his elephants, his horses, his carriages without number, were arranged in order. In the midst of his golden castle extended his apartments on all the four sides. His gardens were of golden earth, wherein were trees of Paradise full of variegated fruits. Peacocks, and cocelas (Indian nightingales), and other birds, were sporting therein. Creeshna, on that day, was surrounded by his 16,000 wives, as lightning with a cloud, and they gathered innumerable flowers as offerings to Creeshna, like the Devatas presenting flowers to Eendra; and, in all the licence of joy, they and Creeshna were sporting together, and throwing flowers at each other. In the garden was a river, whose banks were all gold and jewels, the water of which, from the reflections of rubies, appeared red, though perfectly white; it was the water of life; and thousands of lotuses floated on its surface, among which innumerable bees were humming and seeking their food. In this river they bathed and played, Creeshna always in the midst of them. At length, in the very height of all their revels and enjoyments, he suddenly disappeared! His principal wives, which were the eight nayega, remained for some time in profound astonishment: then they all burst out into the most passionate exclamations, crying, ‘Whither is he gone?’ One demanded of the birds if they had seen him, wondering they could sing until he returned. Another asked of the four-footed beasts why they made such loud moanings, as if Creeshna had left and deceived them too. One addressed the sea, ‘Thou ocean! who art night and day roaring, hath not Creeshna taken thy fourteen reten, or precious things, also, as well as our hearts, and is it not therefore thou grievest?’ Another addressed the moon, ‘O thou lord of the stars! why dost not thou draw on the world the veil of darkness? Art thou not affected by his absence? at which every one must be heartless, like us wretched creatures, who know not what is our fault to be thus forgotten and forsaken.’ Another spake to the passing clouds, ‘Ye, too, are impressed with the colour and figure of Creeshna; and, as he has taken his departure, so ye also are ever on the wing; and ye, like us mourning for his absence, overspread every quarter with gloom.’”

In the chapter entitled Jugunnathu will be found an account of the death of Krishnŭ, and the effect it produced upon the eight nayega and the 16,000 gopīs.

15th.—A heavy flight of locusts passed over Allahabad; some were caught and preserved. Why should I keep a journal? there is nothing to relate in the monotony of an Indian life at home. The weary heavy day, the hot and sleepless night, the excessive heat of the weather, the relaxation of the body, the heaviness of mind, the want of interest in every thing, the necessity of a colder air and colder climate to restring nerves that are suffering from fifteen years’ residence in India;—all this I feel most strongly, and must either return to England or go to the hills to recruit my weary frame. There is a great deal of pūja going on in the camp; the Bā’ī wishes me to see the tamāshā, but I am too unwell for exertion.

The only monkey I ever saw in my life that I did not think disgusting was one which Mr. H— brought from Assam. A little fellow perfectly jet black, with white eyebrows—a curiosity. His master went up dāk to Agra, leaving the monkey, baggage, and servants to follow in a boat. The monkey was provided with four goats to furnish him with milk on the voyage; and some tea and sugar, as it was his custom to take tea every morning. In a storm the boat went down: the khidmatgār in charge of it said, “I saved the monkey and my children with difficulty: what would the master have said had Jackoo been drowned?” Poor Jackoo’s four goats were drowned, and with him the khidmatgār called on me at Allahabad to assist in procuring others. How could a monkey exist without milk to his tea? His beauty attracted great admiration. He was a high caste and most holy monkey. Coming down the river from Assam, he used to sit on the mast-head leaning on his hand. The natives followed the boat for miles making sālām to him. I believe the creature came from the Garrows: some are black, others of a cream colour. They are most affectionate animals, leaving their food to caress one. They hang for great part of the day by their long arms from a bough or a bamboo running crossways.

Besides these monkeys the Garrow Hills possess many curiosities; birds, plants, &c. Amongst the birds is a pheasant of a grey colour, covered over with eyes like those on the peacock’s tail, but smaller: it is very beautiful.

SPORTING IN ASSAM.

Alluding to that part of the country induces me to insert extracts from some letters dated from Goalparah, giving an account of buffalo shooting and sporting in that part of the country.

“This letter is taken up with Shikār in obedience to your wishes. You have at heart a large share of the hunting principle, supposed to characterize mankind in a wild state. I have seen you in your excursion at Gaur, very anxious where the covert had a likely look, and so attentive when the game was started as not to be conscious of the thunder and lightning of the pestilent gun, which is such an object of horror in your hours of ease. I recall these recollections as an excuse to myself for making a long story of a late shooting excursion.

“In the dawn of last Friday morning nine buffaloes were discovered in the river making for our hill, two were killed in the water by villagers in boats, and three on shore by the men of the detachment; the remaining four took to the conical rising ground, at the southern extremity of our ridge, which is uninhabited, and covered with low tree and shrub jungle; a few trees a little larger rise through this undergrowth, and form the pathway that surrounds the cone, the finest peepul I have ever seen. This pathway branches off at the point, where the cone, or rather the detached hill, begins to rise from the main ridge, going entirely round it at the height of about four hundred feet above the level of the river. My havaldar, who took upon himself the ordering of the hunt, sent five men with muskets round by the left to establish themselves in the high trees that look into the jungle supposed to contain the buffaloes. A Mr. F— and myself, with three or four sepoys and the havaldar, all with guns, proceeded by the right to some rocks, where, in perfect safety, we commanded the road, at the back of the hill, by which it was expected the buffaloes would arrive when dislodged by the left-hand party. After some time in this post, in a hot sun,—it was a clear day, and 2 P.M.,—we heard a shot from the party on the other side of the hill; and then, after an interval, two more; we looked eagerly for the buffaloes along the pathway, but still they did not come; and Mr. F— getting tired, descended from our place of safety on the rocks, and proposed going round to where the shots were fired. As it was possible that the men in the trees might mistake us for buffaloes, I told a sepoy to call out that we were coming. I advanced a little way and saw two, one large, the other a calf; they were standing, and about to turn to go away. I aimed my large gun at the head of the calf and fired, without effect; I turned round to exchange my large gun for the double barrel that was loaded, when I found that, except my orderly, who only carried powder and ball, and the havaldar who was a little way beyond him, every one had fled. The havaldar passed on the call for my double gun, and the man who held it put it into my hand in time; for the two buffaloes I had seen, either irritated by my dogs, or alarmed by the party in their rear, made a dash down the road, the large one leading, with its head at the charge near the ground, and snorting at the dogs that were flying before it. When I changed my gun the head brute was not eight feet from me: firing both barrels in a hurry and flurry, I jumped down to the right into the jungle; it was the affair of a moment, and my dexterity in escape, like Falstaff’s at Gads-hill, was upon instinct. When I looked along the road in the line of the charge, I perceived it was completely cleared; all within sight had made the same jump as myself—the orderly, a little behind me, the havaldar about ten yards further back; the former had a loaded gun, and told me afterwards, that he had not fired because my sacred person happened to be in a line with the buffaloes,—a civility for which I felt thankful. The men from the trees had killed an old buffalo, which I found lying across the road, another still remained in the jungle near the top of the conical hill. I began to ascend through wet shrubs and over slippery ground; when half-way up I was joined by Mr. F—, who said he had run for our post on the rock the instant he heard the buffaloes, and only gained it just in time to see them pass by: blood was flowing from the shoulder of the leading one; he himself fired without any effect. We now gained the top of the hill on which there is an open spot, overgrown with a coarse jungle grass used in thatching; a small house had formerly stood upon the place, and the jungle grass probably sprung up from grass-seed fallen from the chhappar; the thatched roof. The sepoys, except two with my guns, and my orderly, whom I trusted, owing to his late steadiness, to hand me my double gun, took to the trees, and Mr. F— followed their example. The men on foot began beating the bushes, directed by the corps of observation in the trees. At length a full-grown buffalo emerged from the surrounding jungle, and stood before me on the open space. Instantly every tree opened its fire; a single grazing shot was the only result; this appeared to decide him, lowering his horns to the charge (to speak poetically), his hoofs swallowed up the space between us; at my feet was the least possible swell of the ground, and as he reached it I stopped him in mid career. A ball from my large gun had entered his head, between the horns,—a little to the right as facing me, a little to the left as regarded himself. He fell at about six feet from me.

“You must now never mention Mr. B—’s exploit, since an ordinary mortal has done as much; for my part, I see little cause of fear from buffaloes. In the cold weather, the usual shooting season, they are only found in large plains, and no person with a trustworthy gun has an excuse for failing to kill in such a situation, where he must have long notice of the charge. Nothing in Friday’s experience (not man Friday’s) will deter me from going after very large-horned old ones, or the young calves, whose heads make excellent soups and stews. The manner in which I got my gun, and the haste I was obliged to make in firing, account for my not killing the leading buffaloes in the road. If they had meditated malice, instead of only making a rush to get away, I might have been in a jeopardy. These two buffaloes were brought in during the day by the sepoys, and all the personages of my story—the nine buffaloes are, you see, accounted for;—and the tragedy might be represented on the stage, if nothing but the unities of time and place were requisite.”

TIGER HUNTING ON FOOT.

“A tiger having taken refuge in our hill, I was anxious to beat him up; the sepoys being eager to join me I told the men the hunt was quite optional, and that the volunteer party might take as many muskets as they pleased. We started at 1 P.M., and soon fell in with his immense footprints, taking the direction of the untenanted and jungly hill. A curious sort of feeling is suggested by following traces of this kind, that are to abut you know not how soon upon the grim precursor; going on is like being caught in the rapid leading to a cataract. We were stationed at the old post of vantage on the rocks, the sepoys began beating from the opposite part of the hill; a man in a tree communicated that the tiger was roused, and our expectation of his coming towards us was for a time intense. Keeping to the jungle of the hill above the pathway, he turned back in the direction from which we had come, and avoided the line of beaters. We quitted the rocks, and placed ourselves in the pathway beyond the part of the jungle the tiger had taken to, and the beating by the men bringing round the left of the line recommenced towards us. Scarcely a minute seemed to have elapsed before we heard an ugh-ugh from the tiger, though we were in ignorance at the time it was the roar with which he accompanied his spring on one of the sepoys, for at that time we got no sight of the tiger; but the news of a man being knocked down soon reached us, and a sepoy carried him down upon his back; a few scratches were visible on the shoulders, but the extent of the principal injury, which was on the head, was concealed by the turban, almost completely stained with blood.

“I heard afterwards that he was a-head of the others, crouching down, and looking into the jungle grass on the top of the hill, at the edge of the tree jungle, for traces of the tiger, when the animal sprung on him from behind, lighting with his fore-paws on his shoulders; and that the wounds inflicted on the scalp were from a bite, the teeth luckily slipping over the surface of the skull. Mr. M— and I took a more advantageous position on the slope of the rising ground, facing the conical hill, and at about sixty yards from the place where we afterwards saw the tiger emerge. An havaldar put himself at the head of those men who had brought guns, and continued the hunt, much incensed against the tiger; he at length exposed his whole flank at about sixty yards to Mr. M— and myself. Mr. M— fired a little before me, and striking the tiger, caused him to turn round and escape the heavier bullet from my gun. The havaldar shortly after shot him again a little in front of the hip; Mr. M—’s shot was behind the shoulder. We left the tiger for that day; the next evening we beat the whole hill, but he was not to be found; probably he was dead, for an unusual collection of crows, vultures, and adjutants perching or flying very low, seemed to give token of his death. The wounded sepoy is doing very well; and the present of some rupees has made him consider himself a lucky fellow.”

THE BĀGHMARS.

The following extract must not be omitted, since it elucidates the sketch of “The Spring-bow,” vol. ii. p. 73.

“I must tell you of a tiger that Lieutenant M— and I went out to kill, and only succeeded in wounding. Some days ago, a cow was killed on this our hill of Goalpara, and tigers’ footprints were in beautiful freshness and preservation on the footpath around that remote conical hill that has been before mentioned. Captain Davidson’s assistant got two elephants for beating the jungle, and with a number of sepoys with muskets, I went out again, and did what was most prudent, by remaining on some rocks to receive the tiger when he should clear the jungle, and be driven towards me. The jungle was beat, but no tiger appeared, and the sepoys, getting tired of waiting, went into the jungle to beat instead of the elephants; as this was really dangerous I advised them against it, but uselessly; they seemed quite unconcerned, and to think it an affair of luck. I told the little havaldar, who is a leader on these occasions, that the tiger would kill him; he said, ‘Yes, he would if I were to let him;’ and this was not the least the bravado it would have been in the mouth of an European, but the man’s plain meaning. It is his opinion of the tiger that he is a beast possessed of great hikmat, cunning, but little heart or liver; and if you oppose him resolutely, like the devil he will flee from you. The beaters went cutting down the jungle and shouting; and, to put you out of suspense, no tiger was found, though the edges of his footprints were still fresh and crumbling.

“The enterprize of bringing in the tiger was resigned to some bhagmar people, professional tiger-killers, a party of whom happened to be in Goalpara, for the purpose of receiving payment for heads they had collected.

“Have you ever seen the bow they set for tigers[20]? It is laid on one side the animal’s track, and is of stronger and rather larger proportions than a bahangī bamboo; the joint force of two or three men draws the string back when the arrow is to be set; the poisoned head of the arrow, which is carried separate, is fitted on, and a piece of very thin twine laid from the bow across the animal’s path; the least touch on this string discharges the arrow in the same line with deadly precision. This bow was laid the night after our battue, and the next morning, about 9 A.M., I got the news that the tiger was lying dead upon the hill-side, and a number of prisoners were about to carry it to Captain Davidson’s; from him it was brought to me. It was a fine female, killed with its dinner of cow, and without any wound but that which killed it;—good proof that it was not the tiger we saw, who was twice wounded, as was shown by heavy clots of blood fallen on leaves over which he retreated. The arrow had buried itself only to the depth of its head, just behind the left shoulder: the mere wound could not have caused death, but the poison did; and the tiger was found about sixty yards from the spot where it came in contact with the string. The poison is the same in appearance as that on the arrow you got at Rajmahal; the tiger-killers told me they got it from the inhabitants of Bhotan, but whether these last make or retail it I do not know: its efficacy is tremendous.

“I have observed, and the same remark must have occurred to you, that these Sebundies, and natives generally who live in the constant vicinity of wild beasts, show a fearlessness of them that puts to shame the courage of an European on the same point. To beat through thick jungle, containing a tiger that had just struck down one of their party, some with only sticks in their hands, is what no European will do excepting on compulsion.

“I put the question to my havaldar, a man capable of answering it from personal courage and experience in such matters, whether the buffalo charges blindly forward in his first direction, so as to allow of a person’s escaping by stepping aside? ‘Oh no,’ he said, ‘the buffalo will turn with you.’

“The two that charged me were making a rush to escape, and were going along a narrow footpath; by jumping aside, I disappeared into the jungle growing below me on the face of the hill.

“It is morning, and I am drinking tea; and an instant ago the shock of an earthquake shook the table at which I am sitting, making my teacup and saucer rattle together like castanets. I was in the act of putting my pen on the paper when our hill began shaking, and then you would have had letters contorted by earthquake,—rather an out-of-the-way fact in familiar correspondence. I hope we are not to have three shocks complete, and according to the degrees of comparison; though such is said to be the custom of our Mother Earth. Far be it from me, who hold her in mythological reverence, to wish that she should forego any pet habits on my account; the only condition I pray for is the standing of the house I am in.

“The tiger-killers (bhagmar) are a strange set of people; the trade, like all trades in this country, descends from father to son, and is, as far as I can compute, a very indifferent livelihood. Say that a set of men get twenty heads during the year (this is nearly twice the common average), the reward for this number is one hundred rupees; which, divided by twelve and seven, gives each individual of the party one rupee three ānās a month. Seven were in the set to which my informant belonged, including, probably, three women. Two of the tiger-killers lately arrived have good marks from the gentlemen whose heads they traffic in; according to them all there is only one portion of their labours attended with danger, and that is, when seeking the tiger after the bow has been sprung. If the arrow lodges fairly in the side, the animal is found dead; should he be less fully hit, he is found, as they call it, in a state of drunkenness. They then approach him with hand-bows to finish him. This is the dangerous portion of their work. From the marks on one of these men, I should think the tiger must have been in a state of great weakness when he seized him. The different places in which he is scored show him to have been fairly in the tiger’s grip, and yet the amount of injury was small. The other has suffered more severely; and three men, they say, were killed outright during this year.

“This is the trade that men will take up for the chance of half an ānā a day! I do not think the Sadr ’Adālat people would enter the bhagmar department if their salaries were to be doubled. This shows that the work of the service could be done for four ānās a day, being three and a half ānās for the respectability. ‘Two bobs for the vartue, and a sice for the larning!’

“For the first time, I have visited the burying-ground. Your friend’s place of rest is more remarkable than solemn. A small circular enclosure of upright slips of bamboo, precisely similar to the defence of a young tree, would seem to indicate to the traveller, the existence in these savage regions of a race believing in a vegetable resurrection.”