It was in fact his sovereign, the Rana Jagat Singh, who delighted in the chase, and having that day been bewildered in the intricacies of Naharamagra, had stumbled on the Dudia carle. The latter expressed neither surprise nor delight when introduced to the Rana, and replied to all his questions with the frankness that grows out of the sentiment of honest pride and independence, which never abandons a Rajput, whatever be his condition.^[4] The Rana was so much pleased with his rustic host, that he commanded a led horse to be brought forth, and desired the Dudia would accompany him to Udaipur, only ten miles distant. ‘The rocket of the moon’^[5] (Chandrabhan), in his peasant’s garb, bestrode the noble charger with as much ease as if it were habitual to him. The next day the Dudia was conducted to the Presence, and invested with a dress which had been worn by his sovereign (a distinguished mark of royal favour), accompanied with the more solid reward of the grant of Kuwaria and its lands in perpetuity.

Chandrabhan and his benefactor died about the same time. Rana Raj had succeeded to the throne of Mewar, and Sardar Singh, son of Chandrabhan, did personal service for the lands of Kuwaria. It was a source of daily amusement for the prince and his youthful associates to plunge into the fountain at the Saheli-ki-bari,^[6] a villa about two miles from the capital, on which occasions reserve was banished, and they gave themselves up to unrestrained mirth. The young Dudia had some peculiarities, which made him a butt for their wit. The following incident will show the character of these princely pastimes. It was one day remarked, that when refreshing in the kund, or reservoir, Sardar Singh did not lay aside his turban, which provoked a suspicion that he had no hair. The Rana, impatient to get a peep at the bare head of [608] the son of Chandrabhan, proposed that they should push each other into the water. The sport began, and the Dudia’s turban falling off, disclosed the sad truth. The jest, however, was not relished by Sardar; and he tartly replied, in answer to his sovereign’s question, “what had become of his hair?” that “he had lost it in his service, in a former birth, as Chela,^[7] by carrying wood upon his head to feed the flame, when his sovereign, as a jogi, or ascetic, performed penance (tapasya) in the hills of Badarinath.” The prince felt that he had violated decorum; but the reply was pregnant with sarcasm, and his dignity must be maintained. “Sardar must bring proof of his assertion, or punishment awaits him,” was the rejoinder. The young chief, in the same lofty tone, offered the evidence of the Deota (divinity) of the temple of Kuwaria. This was a witness whose testimony could not be impugned, and he had leave to bring it forward.

At the village of Gopalpur, attached to his estate of Kuwaria, was a temple of the Bagrawats, a tribe little known, having a shrine of their divinity, who was personified by an image with a tiger’s (bagh) head.^[8] “He invoked his support on this occasion, when the Deota threw him the flower^[9] in his hand, and desired him to carry it to his sovereign.” He did so, and the Rana’s faith was too great to dispute the miracle. What honours could suffice for the man who had performed the most meritorious service to his prince in former transmigrations! Mang, ‘ask,’ was the sign of grace and favour. Sangram’s request was governed by moderation; it was for Lawa and its lands, which adjoined his estate at Kuwaria.

The Rana being yet a minor, and the queen-mother at the head of affairs, he hastened to her to be released from the debt of gratitude. But Lawa, unluckily, was held by herself; and although she was not heretic enough to doubt the miraculous tale, she thought the Dudia might have selected any other land but hers, and testily replied to her son’s request, that “he might give him Mewar if he chose.” Displeased at this unaccommodating tone, the prince quickly rejoined, “Mewar shall be his, then.” The word of a prince is sacred; he sent for Sangram, and thus addressed him: “I give you Mewar for the space of three days; make the best use of your time; my arsenals, my armouries, my treasury, my stables, my throne and its ministers, are at your command.”^[10] The temporary Rana availed himself of this large [609] power, and conveyed to his estate whatever he had a mind to. During the abdication Sardar held his court, though he had too much tact actually to press the cushion of his master; but seated himself on one side of the vacant throne, attended by all the nobles, fully impressed with the sanctity of the individual who had attained such distinction. On the third day the queen-mother sent her son the patent for Lawa; and on the fourth the Dudia surrendered the sceptre.

With the wealth thus acquired, he erected a castle in his domain of Lawa, on which he expended nine lakhs of rupees, about £100,000. He formed a lake; and a single baori or reservoir, in the fort, cost another lakh. He built a splendid palace, whose china and mirror-halls are still the theme of encomium. These were greatly defaced by an explosion of a powder-magazine, which threw down half the fortress that had taken twenty years to complete; and though it underwent considerable repairs, it lost much of its splendour, which the guns of Holkar aided to diminish: but the castle of Lawa is still one of the finest in Mewar. Sardar Singh had also a grant of one of the royal mahalls or palaces of Udaipur, erected on the margin of the lake, after the model of the Jagmandir.^[11] Although it now belongs to the chief of Amet, it is only recognized as the Dudia-ka-mahall; but its halls are the dwelling of the bat and the owl; the bar^[12] has taken root in its light, airy porticoes, and its walls have every direction but the perpendicular. Sardar lived twenty years after the erection of Lawa; he died in S. 1838 (A.D. 1782), leaving one son, the heir of his honours and estates. Throughout his long life he lost no portion of the respect paid to his early years; but with him the name of Dudia again sunk into obscurity, or lived but as a memento of the instability of fortune. It was this son who, when driven from Lawa by Sangram Singh Saktawat, had no place of shelter, and died in indigence and obscurity. His son (grandson of Sardar, and great-grandson of the ‘rocket of the moon’) is now patronized by the heir-apparent, Prince Jawan Singh, and receives a daily allowance, but has not a foot of land.

Sangram, the Saktawat, had a regular sanad for the fief of Lawa, which was rated at twenty-three thousand rupees of annual rent, while Kuwaria has reverted to the fisc. The lake of Lawa, which irrigates some thousand acres of rice-land, alone renders it one of the most desirable of the secondary estates of Mewar. Sangram’s children being all murdered in the feud of Sheogarh, he was succeeded by Jai Singh (son [610] of Sheo Singh, his second brother), who was received as kaula, or son of adoption, by all the retainers of Lawa. While Sangram Singh lived, no subdivision of allotments took place; all, to use the words of Man Singh, “ate out of one dish”; and his own father Nahar, who had aided in the enterprise, having by a similar coup de main secured the estate of Banwal for himself, no necessity for such partition existed. But Banwal belonging to the fisc, to which it reverted on the restoration of order in A.D. 1818, young Man had no alternative but to turn round on Jai Singh, the adopted heir of Sangram, and demand his bat, or share of the lands of Lawa, in virtue of the right of joint acquisition, and as a younger brother. Jai Singh refused; but custom prevailed, and the village of Jethpura, of fifteen hundred rupees’ annual revenue, was bestowed upon the son of Nahar Singh. So long as Man Singh performed his duties to his chief, his share of Lawa was irresumable and inalienable: hence the stubborn tenacity of the chiefs of their share in the patrimonial acres, even when holding largely, but separately, of the crown, since of the latter, caprice or intrigue may deprive them; but their own misconduct alone can forfeit their bapota. The simple deed of conveyance will better establish this point!

“Maharao Sri Jai Singh, plighting his faith (bachanaita).

“At this time, Brother Man Singh, I bestow upon thee, of my own free will, the village and lands of Jethpura. This donative shall not look to ranrkas: suput, kuput:^[13] your issue shall enjoy them. Of this intention I call the four-armed divinity (Chaturbhuj)^[14] as witness. You are my own child (chhora): wherever and whenever I order, you will do my service: if you fail, the fault be on your own head.”

CHAPTER 3

Morwan, February 1.—Yesterday, Man Singh took up the whole of my time with the feuds of Lawa and their consequences. It obliged me to halt, in order to make inquiries into the alienated lands in its vicinity. Morwan is, or rather was, a township of some consequence, and head of a tappa or subdivision of a district. It is rated, with its contiguous hamlets, at seven thousand rupees annual rent. The situation is beautiful, upon heights pleasingly diversified, with a fine lake to the westward, whose margin is studded with majestic tamarind trees. The soil is rich, and there is water in great abundance within twenty-five feet of the surface; but man is wanting! The desolation of solitude reigns throughout, for (as Rousseau observes) there is none to whom one can turn and say, que la solitude est belle!

I experienced another pang at seeing this fertile district revert to the destroyer, the savage Pathan, who had caused the desolation, and in the brief but expressive words of a Roman author, solitudinem facit, pacem appellat.^[1] Morwan is included in the lands mortgaged for a war-contribution, but which with others has remained in the hands of the Mahratta mortgagees or their mercenary subordinates. But it is melancholy to reflect that, but for a false magnanimity towards our insidious, natural enemies, the Mahrattas, all these lands would have reverted to their legitimate masters, who are equally interested with ourselves in putting down predatory warfare. Justice, good policy, and humanity would have been better consulted had the Mahrattas been wholly banished from Central India. When I contrasted this scene with the traces of incipient prosperity I had left behind me, I felt a satisfaction that the alienated acres produced nothing to the possessor, save luxuriant grass, and the leafless kesula or palas [615].^[2]

Having heard of an inscription at the township of Aner, five miles distant, to the south-west, I requested my old Guru to take a ride and copy it. It was of modern date, merely confirming the lands of Aner to the Brahmans. The tablet is in the temple of Chaturbhuja (the four-armed divinity), built and endowed by Rana Sangram Singh in S. 1570 (A.D. 1514); to whose pious testament a codicil is added by Rana Jagat Singh, S. 1791, imprecating an anathema on the violator of it. There was also engraved upon one of the columns a voluntary gift, from the village-council of Aner to the divinity, of the first-fruits of each harvest; namely, two and a half sers from each khalla, or heap, of the spring-crops, and the same of the autumnal. The date, S. 1845 (A.D. 1789), shows that it was intended to propitiate the deity during the wars of Mewar [616].

Directly opposite, and very near the shrine of the “four-armed,” is a small Jain temple, erected, in S. 1774, to cover an image of the great pontiff, Parsvanath, found in digging near this spot. Here at every step are relics of past ages.

February 2.—An accident has compelled another halt at Morwan. The morning was clear and frosty, not a cloud in the sky, and we rose with the sun; my kinsman, Captain Waugh, to try his Arab at a nilgae, and myself to bag a few of the large rock-pigeons which are numerous about Morwan. My friend, after a hard run, had drawn blood from the elk, and was on the point of spearing him effectually just as he attained a thick part of the jungle, which not heeding, horse and rider came in contact with a tree, and were dashed with violence to the ground. There he lay insensible, and was brought home upon a charpai, or cot, by the villagers, much bruised, but fortunately with no broken bones. A leech was not to be had in any of the adjacent villages; and the patient complaining chiefly of the hip-bone, we could only apply emollients and recommend repose. I returned with no game except one or two black-partridges and batten-quail. The rock-pigeon, or barr-titar, though unaccustomed to the fowler, were too wild for me to get a shot at them. The bird bears no analogy to the pigeon, but has all the rich game plumage of the titar, or partridge, in which name the ornithologist of the west will see the origin of tetrao. There are two species of this bird in India, one much smaller than the common partridge; that of which I speak is much larger, and with the peculiarity of being feathered to the toe. I have since discovered it to be the counterpart of a bird in the museum at Chambéry, called 'barteveldt des Alpes'; the ptarmigan of the highlands of Scotland. The male has exactly these redundant white feathers; while that I saw in Savoy was a richly plumaged female barr-titar.

The ‘lord of the black rock,’ for such is the designation of the tiger, was one of the most ancient bourgeois of Morwan; his freehold is Kala-pahar, between this and Magarwar, and his reign for a long series of years has been unmolested, notwithstanding his numerous acts of aggression on his bovine subjects; indeed, only two nights before, he was disturbed gorging on a buffalo belonging to a poor oilman of Morwan. Whether this tiger was an incarnation of one of the Mori lords of Morwan, tradition does not say; but neither gun, bow, nor spear had ever been raised against him. In return for this forbearance, it is said he never preyed upon man, or if he seized one, would, upon being entreated with the endearing epithet of mamu or uncle, let go his hold; and this accounted for the little ragged urchin using a phrase which almost prevented the harkaras returning to his rescue.

Disastrous Effects of Frost, February 3.—Another halt for our patient, who is doing well, and greatly relieved by the application of leeches obtained from Nimbahera.^[5] What a night! the clouds which had been alternately collecting and dispersing ever since we left Marwar, in December last, but had almost disappeared, as we commenced our present march, again suddenly gathered. The thermometer, which had averaged 41° at daybreak throughout the last month, this morning rose to 60°. On the 1st the wind changed to the south, with showers, where it continued throughout yesterday; but during the night it suddenly veered to the north, and the thermometer at daybreak was 28°, or four degrees below the freezing point. Reader, do you envy me my bon vin de Bourgogne et murailles de coton, with not even a wood fire, labouring under a severe pulmonary affection, with work enough for five men? Only three days ago the thermometer was 86° at noon, and to-day it is less at noon than yesterday at daybreak: even old England, with all her vicissitudes of weather, can scarcely show so rapid a change as this.

Ill-fated Mewar! all our hopes are blasted; this second visitation has frustrated all our labours. The frost of December, which sunk the mercury to 27° as we passed over the plains of Marwar, was felt throughout Rajwara, and blighted every pod of cotton. All was “burnt up”; but our poor exiles comforted [618] themselves, amidst the general sorrow, with the recollection that the young gram was safe. But even this last hope has now vanished: all is nipped in the bud. Had it occurred a month ago, the young plant would have been headed down with the sickle, and additional blossoms would have appeared. I was too unwell to ride out and see the ravages caused by this frost.

February 4.—Our patient is doing so well, that we look to moving to-morrow. Thermometer 28° at daybreak, and 31° at sunrise, with a keen cutting wind from the north. Ice closed the orifice of the mashak, or leathern water-bag. Even the shallow stream near the tents had a pellicle of ice on its surface: our people huddling and shivering round their fires of bajra sticks, and the cattle of all classes looking very melancholy.

February 5, thermometer 30°.—Mounted Bajraj, ‘the royal steed,’ and took a ride over the heights of Morwan, a wild yet fairy scene, with the Patar or table-land bounding the perspective to the east. The downs are covered with the most luxuriant grasses, and the dhak or palas dried by the wintry blast, as if scorched by the lightning, faintly brought to mind the poet’s simile, applied to this tree, even in the midst of spring: “The black leafless kesula.” We entered a village in ruins, whose nim trees bid defiance to winter; the ‘thorny babul’ (mimosa Arabica) grows luxuriantly out of the inner sides of the walls, and no hand invades the airy nest of the imitative papiha, fantastically pendent from the slenderest branches.^[9] No trace of the presence of man; but evidence that he has been here. The ground was covered with hoar-frost, and the little stream coated with ice. Many a heavy heart has it caused, and plunged joyous industry into utter despondence. Take one example: yonder Jat, sitting by the side of his field, which he eyes in despair; three months since, he returned, after many years of exile, to the bapota, the land of his sires, without funds, without food, or even the implements for obtaining it. He had been labouring as a serf in other lands, but he heard of peace in his own, and came back to the paternal acres, which had been a stranger to the ploughshare since he was driven from his cot in S. 1844, immediately following the battle of Harkiakhal, when the “Southron” completed the bondage of Mewar. What could he do? his well was dried up, and if not, he had no cattle to irrigate a field of wheat or barley. But Mewar is a kind mother, and she yields her chana crop without water. To the Bohra (the metayer) he promised one-fifth of the produce for the necessary seed and the use of a pair of oxen and a plough; one-fifth more was the share of the state from land so long sterile; there were three-fifths left for himself of his long-neglected but at once luxuriant fields. He watched the crop with paternal solicitude, from the first appearance of verdure to the approach of Basant, the joyous spring. Each night, as he returned to his yet roofless abode, he related the wonders of his field and its rapid vegetation; and as he calculated the produce, he anticipated its application; “so much shall go [620] for a plough, so much for the Bohra, so much in part payment of a pair of bullocks, and the rest will keep me in bread till the makkai crop is ready.” Thus the days passed, until this killing frost nipped his hopes in the bud, and now see him wringing his hands in the bitterest anguish! This is no ideal picture: it is one to be found in every village of Mewar. In this favoured soil there is as much of chana in the rabi harvest as of wheat and barley conjoined, and in the first crop sown in banjar, or soil long sterile, wheat and chana are sown together. It is a sad blow to the exiles; though happily in the crown-lands their distress will be mitigated, as these are rented on leases of five years, and the renters for their own sakes must be lenient, and moreover they are well watched.

February 6.—Still halting; our patient very well, though he feels his bruises; but we shall put him on an elephant to-morrow. The jealousy of the Mahratta had hitherto prevented the inhabitants from fulfilling their desire to come and visit me; but to-day, the elders forming the Panchayat, heading the procession, they came en masse. The authorities need not have feared exposing the nakedness of the land, which is too visible; but they apprehended the contrast of their condition with our poor subjects, who were at least unmolested in their poverty. It was a happiness to learn that this contrast was felt, and as the Patel presented to me an engaging little child, his daughter, he said, “Let not our misfortunes be our faults; we all belong to Mewar, though we are not so happy as to enjoy your protection and care.” I assured him, that although under the Turk, I should look upon them as my children, and the subjects of the Rana; and I have had it in my power to redeem this pledge—for, strange to say, even Amir Khan, seeing that the prosperity of the subject is that of the prince, has commanded his governor of Nimbahera to consult me in everything, and has even gone so far as to beg I would consider the place as under my authority. Already, following our example, he has reduced the transit duties nearly one-half, and begins to think the Farangi notions of economy better than his own, his loss having proved a gain.

Nikumbh, February 7: eleven miles.—Midway, passed through Chakurla, a village belonging to Amir Khan. Nikumbh is a taluk of Jawad, which with Mandipia was held by the Pindari freebooter, Fazil, while Jaswant Rao Bhao held them in jaedad. They are now leased to a Pandit by the Hakim of Jawad, which latter is assigned by Sindhia to his father-in-law, the Senapati. Nikumbh is a good village, but more than two-thirds depopulated, and the renter is prevented from being lenient, as he experiences [621] no mercy himself. Notwithstanding they have all been suffering as we have from this frost, an assessment is now levying. One poor fellow said to me, “I returned only three months ago from exile, and I had raised the mud-walls of my hut two feet, when my wife died, leaving me to take care of a boy eight years of age, and to get bread for both. If the walls were two feet higher I would cover it in; but though I have not a foot of land, my roofless half-finished cot is assessed a rupee and a half”: a gift of two rupees made him happier than his Hakim!

The country is beautiful, the soil rich, and water, as already mentioned, about twenty-five feet from the surface. We are now in the region of the flower sacred to “gloomy Dis,” the accursed poppy. The crop looks miserable from the frost, but those patches within the influence of the wells are partly saved by the fields being inundated, which expedient is always successful upon such visitations, if applied with judgment. The mountains touching great Sadri lay twelve miles south coming from Partabgarh, and ranging to Salumbar and Udaipur, where they commingle with the giant Aravalli.

The Chāran Tribe. Marla, February 8: seven miles.—Crossed two ridges running northward to Badesar. The intervening valleys, as usual, fertile, with numerous villages, but alienated to the southern Goths or the partisan Pathan. Passed many large townships, formerly in the fisc of Mewar, as Bari, Banota, Bambori, etc. In the distance, saw “the umbrella of the earth,” the far-famed Chitor. Marla is an excellent township, inhabited by a community of Charans, of the tribe Kachhela, who are Banjaras (carriers) by profession, though poets by birth. The alliance is a curious one, and would appear incongruous, were not gain the object generally in both cases. It was the sanctity of their office which converted our Bardais into Banjaras, for their persons being sacred, the immunity extended likewise to their goods, and saved them from all imposts; so that in process of time they became the free-traders of Rajputana. I was highly gratified with the reception I received from the community, which collectively advanced to me at some distance from the town. The procession was headed by the village-band, and all the fair Charanis, who, as they approached, gracefully waved their scarfs over me, until I was fairly made captive by the muses of Marla! It was a novel and interesting scene: the manly persons of the Charans, clad in the flowing white robe, with the high loose folded turban inclined on one side, from which the mala, or chaplet, was gracefully suspended; the Naiks, or leaders, with their massive necklaces of gold, with the image of the pitrideva (manes) depending therefrom, gave the whole an air of opulence and dignity. The females were uniformly [622] attired in a skirt of dark brown camlet, having a bodice of light-coloured stuff, with gold ornaments worked into their fine black hair; and all had the favourite churis, or rings of hathi-dant (elephant’s tooth), covering the arm, from the wrist to the elbow, and even above it. Never was there a nobler subject for the painter in any age or country; it was one which Salvator Rosa would have seized, full of picturesque contrasts: the rich dark tints of the female attire harmonizing with the white garments of their husbands; but it was the mien, the expression, the gestures, denoting that though they paid homage they expected a full measure in return. And they had it; for if ever there was a group which bespoke respect for the natural dignity of man and his consort, it was the Charan community of Marla.

It was not until the afternoon, when the Naiks again came to see me at my camp, that I learned the full value of my escape from the silken bonds of the fair Charanis. This community had enjoyed for five hundred years the privilege of making prisoner any Rana of Mewar who may pass through Marla, and keeping him in bondage until he gives them a got, or entertainment; and their chains are neither galling, nor the period of captivity, being thus in the hands of the captivated, very long. The patriarch told me that I was in jeopardy, as the Rana’s representative; but not knowing how I might have relished the joke, had it been carried to its conclusion, they let me escape, though they lost a feast by it. But I told them I was too much delighted with old customs not to keep up this; and immediately sent money to the ladies with my respects, and a request that they would hold their got (feast). The patriarch and his subordinate Naiks and their sons remained with me to discourse on the olden time.

The founders of this little colony accompanied Rana Hamir from Gujarat in the early part of his reign, and although five centuries have elapsed, they have not parted with one iota of their nationality or their privileges since that period: neither in person, manners, or dress, have they anything analogous to those amidst whom they dwell. Indeed, their air is altogether foreign to India, and although they have attained a place, and that a high one, amongst the tribes of Hind, their affinity to the ancient Persian is striking; the loose robe, high turban, and flowing beard being more akin to the figures on the temples of the Guebres than to anything appertaining to the Charbaran, or four classes of the Hindus. But I must give the tale accounting for their settlement in Mewar. Rana Hamir, so celebrated in the history of Mewar, had a leprous spot on his hand, to remove which he made a pilgrimage to the shrine of Hinglaj, upon the [623] coast of Mekran, the division Oreitai of Arrian’s geography.^[10] He had reached the frontiers of Cutch Bhuj, when alighting near a tanda, or encampment of Charans, a young damsel abandoned the meal she was preparing, and stepped forward to hold the stranger’s steed. Thanking her for her courtesy, he jocosely observed that he wished his people had as good a breakfast as she was preparing, when she immediately made an offering of the contents of the vessel; on which Hamir observed, it would go but a short way to satisfy so many hungry mouths. “Not if it pleased Hinglajji,” she promptly replied; and placing the food before the Rana and his train, it sufficed for all their wants. A little well, which she excavated in the sand, was soon filled with a copious supply of water, which served to quench their thirst. It was an evident interposition of the goddess of Hinglaj in favour of this her royal votary. He returned from her shrine cured, and the young Charani’s family were induced to accompany him to Mewar, where he bestowed upon them the lands of Marla, with especial immunities in their mercantile capacity: and as a perpetual remembrance of the miraculous feast, permission was granted to the Charani damsels to make captive of their sovereign as related above.

The colony, which now consists of some thousands of both sexes, presented an enigma to our young Englishmen, who think “all black fellows alike,” and equally beneath notice: it was remarked how comfortable they looked in house and person, though there was not a vestige of cultivation around their habitations. The military policy of the troubled period accounts for the first; and a visit to the altars of Marla will furnish the cause of the neglect of the agrarian laws of Mewar. As the community increased in numbers, the subdivision of the lands continued, according to the customs of Cutch, until a dispute regarding limits produced a civil war. A ferocious combat ensued, when the wives of the combatants who were slain ascended the funeral pile; and to prevent a similar catastrophe, imprecated a curse on whomever from that day should cultivate a field in Marla; since which the land has lain in absolute sterility! Such is the implicit reverence for the injunction of a Sati, at this moment of awful inspiration, when about to take leave of the world. In Mewar, the most solemn of all oaths is that of the Sati. Maha sati an-ki-an, ‘by the great Satis,’ is an adjuration frequently used in the royal patents.

The tanda or caravan, consisting of four thousand bullocks, has been kept up amidst all the evils which have beset this land, through Mogul and Mahratta tyranny. The utility of these caravans, as general carriers to conflicting armies, and as regular tax-paying subjects, has proved their safeguard, and they were too strong [624] to be pillaged by any petty marauder, as any one who has seen a Banjara encampment will be convinced. They encamp in a square; their grain-bags piled over each other breast-high, with interstices left for their matchlocks, make no contemptible fortification. Even the ruthless Turk, Jamshid Khan, set up a protecting tablet in favour of the Charans of Marla, recording their exemption from dand contributions, and that there should be no increase in duties, with threats to all who should injure the community. As usual, the sun and moon are appealed to as witnesses of good faith, and sculptured on the stone. Even the forester Bhil and mountain Mer have set up their signs of immunity and protection to the chosen of Hinglaj; and the figures of a cow and its kheri (calf), carved in rude relief, speak the agreement that they should not be slain or stolen within the limits of Marla.

Nīmbahera: seven miles.—The soil, as usual, excellent; but from Ranikhera to Nimbahera the blue schist at intervals penetrates the surface, and there is but little superincumbent soil even to the bed of the stream, which makes an entire disclosure of the rock, over which flows a clear rivulet abounding with small fish, amongst which the speckled trout were visible. Ranikhera, through which we passed, is the largest township of this district, and was built by the Rani of Arsi Rana, mother of the present ruler of Mewar, at whose expense the temple, the baori or ‘reservoir,’ and the paved street, were constructed. Although in the alienated territory, I had a visit from its elders to complain of an indignity to the community by the Bhangi, or scavenger, of Lesrawan, who had killed a hog and thrown it into the reservoir, whose polluted waters being thus rendered unfit for use, the inhabitants were compelled to get a purer element from the adjacent villages. This baori is about half-a-mile from the town, and being upon the highway, the council and train very wisely stopped at the spot where the aggression had happened: and although the cavalcade of the Hakim of Nimbahera was in sight, advancing to welcome me, it was impossible to proceed until I heard the whole grievance, when adjured by “subjects of Mewar, and children of the Rana, though unhappily under the Turk,” to see their wrongs redressed. I might not have recorded this incident, but for its consequence; as the hog thrown into the reservoir of Baijiraj, ‘the royal mother,’ of Mewar, affords an instance of the extent to which mortgage is carried.

The Bhangis, or scavengers, of Ranikhera, the very refuse of mankind, had mortgaged their rights in the dead carcases of their town to a professional brother of Lesrawan; but, on the return of these halcyon days, they swerved from their bond [625]. The chieftain of Lesrawan espoused his vassal’s cause, and probably pointed out the mode of revenge. One morning, therefore, not having the fear of Jamshid of Nimbahera before his eyes, the said mortgagee slew his pig; and, albeit but the wreck of a human being, contrived to cast his victim into the pure fountain of ‘Queenstown,’ and immediately fled for saran to Bhindar. But what could be done to a wretch, who for former misdeeds had already suffered the dismemberment of an arm, a leg, and his nose? Here is the sentence! “To be paraded, mounted on an ass, his face blackened, with a chaplet of shoes round his neck, and drummed out of the limits of Ranikhera!” The fountain is now undergoing purification; and when the polluted waters are baled out, it is to be lustrated with the holy stream of the Ganges, and the ceremony will conclude with a got, or feast, to one hundred Brahmans. Previous to this, I took a peep at the humble altars of Ranikhera. All is modern; but there is one tablet which pleasingly demonstrates that both public feeling and public gratitude exist in these regions. This tablet, set up by the council of the town, recorded that Kistna, the Silpi or stone-cutter, did at his own expense and labour repair all the altars then going to decay; for which pious act they guaranteed to him and his successors for ever six thalis or platters of various viands, saffron, oil, butter, and several pieces of money, at every village fête. Doubtless such traits are not confined to Ranikhera. I accepted with kindness the offerings of the elders and assembled groups—a pot of curds and sundry blessings—and continued my journey to meet the impatient cavaliers of Nimbahera, who, to fill up the interlude, were karowling,^[11] with matchlock and spear, their well-caparisoned chargers. The Khan was in the centre of the group, and we had a friendly, unceremonious dastabazi, or shaking of hands, without dismounting. He is a gentlemanly Pathan, of middle age, courteous and affable, and a very different personage from the two-handed Jamshid his predecessor, who lately died from a cancer in his back: a judgment, if we are to credit our Mewar friends, for his horrible cruelties and oppressions over all these regions, as lieutenant of Amir Khan during many years. The Khan welcomed me to Nimbahera with true Oriental politesse, saying, “that the place was mine”; and that he had received the “positive instructions of the Nawab Sahib (Amir Khan, whose son-in-law he is) to look upon me as himself.” I replied, that, in accepting such a trust, I could not say more than that I would, whenever occasion presented itself, act for him as if Nimbahera were really my own. The Khan had reason to find that his confidence was not misplaced; and while enabled to benefit him, I had also the opportunity of protecting the interests [626] of the feudatories, who by this alienation (as is fully related in the Annals of Mewar) were placed beyond the pale of the Rana’s power. The Khan, after accompanying me to my tents, took leave; but paid me a long visit in the evening, when we discussed all that concerned the welfare of his charge and the peace of the borders. As matters stand, it is a duty to conciliate and to promote prosperity; but it is melancholy to see this fertile appanage of Mewar in the hand of so consummate a villain as Amir Khan; a traitor to his master Holkar, for which he obtained the “sovereignty in perpetuity” of many rich tracts both in Mewar and Amber, without rendering the smallest service in return. Let this be borne in mind when another day of reckoning comes. Nimbahera is a considerable town, with an excellent stone circumvallation; and, being on the high road between Malwa and Hindustan, it enjoys a good share of traffic. Upwards of one hundred villages are attached to it, and it was estimated at three lakhs of rupees, of annual rent.