1829, Oct.—Snakes are very numerous in our garden; the cobra de capello, and the black snake, whose bite is just as mortal. This morning I turned over some tiles with my foot, when a cobra I had disturbed glided into the centre of the heap, where we killed him.

Mohummud said, “Kill snakes, and kill the snake which has two black lines upon its back, and kill the snake called abter, on account of its small tail; for verily these two kinds of snake blind the eyes as soon as they are looked at. You must not kill the snakes that live in the houses, because they are not snakes but a kind of genii. Domestic snakes, which are genii, must be warned to depart; if they do not, they are to be killed. The genii are of three kinds, one kind have wings, and fly; another are snakes and dogs; and the third move about from place to place like men.”

“But do not hurry in killing them, but say, ‘do not incommode me, if you do, I shall kill you.’ Then, if it goes away, so much the better; but if not, kill it, because it is an infidel genius.”

“Kill all snakes, except the small white one, which is not poisonous[47].”

Several were in the stable and hen-house. A snake-charmer came, who offered to fascinate and catch the snakes for me at one rupee a head. He caught one, for which I gave him a rupee; but as I had it killed, he never returned—the charm was broken—it was a tame fangless snake, which he had tried to pass off as the wild one.

We killed three scorpions in the dining-room, of rather large dimensions. Our friend and neighbour had much compassion on frogs. Many an enormous bull-frog he rescued alive from the jaws of the snakes he killed in his garden. The poor frogs lost their defender on his return to England, and we an excellent friend.

During the Burmese war I had presents made me of seven or eight idols: one was of gold, several of silver; some of black, some of white marble, others of bronze. The soldiers in Burmah opened the heads of many of the large idols, and found jewels within them. I have never disturbed the “reflecting gems” within the brains of my Burmese gods; they may contain, for aught I know, “heaps of gold, inestimable jewels,”—there let them rest.

Oct. 29th.—We drove to the Parade-ground, to view the celebration of the Ram Leela festival. Ram the warrior god is particularly revered by the sipahīs. An annual tamāshā is held in his honour, and that of Seeta his consort. A figure of Rawan the giant, as large as a windmill, was erected on the Parade-ground: the interior of the monster was filled with fireworks. This giant was destroyed by Ram. All sorts of games are played by the sipahīs, on the Parade. Mock fights and wrestling matches take place, and fireworks are let off. Two young natives, about ten or twelve years old, are often attired to represent Ram and Seeta; and men with long tails figure as the army of monkeys, headed by their leader Hŭnoomān.

On dit, that the children who personate Ram and Seeta, the handsomest they can select, never live more than a year after the festival—for this I vouch not—it is said they are poisoned.

One ceremony was very remarkable: each native regiment took out its colours and made pooja to the standards, offering them sweetmeats, flowers, rice, and pān, as they do to a god! At Cawnpore I saw the men of the third cavalry riding round the image of the giant, with their colours flying, after having made pooja to them.

At the conclusion of the tamāshā, the figure of Rawan is blown up by the conqueror Ram. At the great Mela at Allahabad, I procured a large marble image of Ram, which came from Jeypore; it is highly gilt and ornamented: in his left hand is the bow of power, and the quiver full of arrows in his right: the trident mark adorns his forehead, and on his head is a crown. See the figure on the left of Ganesh in the frontispiece.

“Ram, the deified hero, was a famous warrior, and a youth of perfect beauty. He was the happy possessor of the divine bow Danush, which the giant Ravuna could not bend, and with which he contested for, and won, the hand of the goddess Seeta. It was ordained, that he only who could bend this bow, and with it shoot a fish, while revolving on a pole, through the left eye, not seeing the fish, but its reflection in a pan of oil, should espouse Seeta. The name of Ram is used beyond the pale of his own sectarists, in supplication and praise.”

Rám, rám, is a usual salutation, like our good-morrow, between friends at meeting or parting. It is reverently reiterated at times in aid of abstraction, and in moments of enthusiasm or distress.

On the birthday of this god the Hindoo merchants in general begin their year’s accounts; and on this day the gods caused a shower of flowers to fall from heaven.

“Ravuna, a giant who reigned at Ceylon, having seized Hŭnoomān, ordered his tail to be set on fire. The enraged monkey, with his burning tail, leaped from house to house, and set all Lŭnka (Ceylon) on fire; after finishing which, he came to Seeta, and complained that he could not extinguish the fire that had kindled on his tail. She directed him to spit upon it; and he, raising it to his face for this purpose, set his face on fire. He then complained, that when he arrived at home with such a black face, all the monkeys would laugh at him. Seeta, to comfort him, assured him, that all the other monkeys should have black faces also; and when Hŭnoomān came amongst his friends, he found that, according to the promise of Seeta, they had all black faces as well as himself.

“Mŭndodŭrēē, the chief wife of Ravuna the giant, whom Ram had killed, came to Ram weeping; and he, not knowing who she was, gave her this blessing, that she should never become a widow. Finding his mistake, having just killed her husband, he ordered Hŭnoomān continually to throw wood upon the fire, according to a proverb amongst the Hindoos, that as long as the body of the husband is burning, a woman is not called a widow.

“To this day, therefore, Hŭnoomān keeps laying logs on the fire; and every time a Hindoo puts his fingers in his ears and hears a sound, he says he hears the bones of the giant Ravuna burning[48].”

The marks on the foreheads of Ram’s followers very much resemble a trident.

At the time of death many Hindoos write the name of Ram on the breast and forehead of the dying person, with earth taken from the banks of the Ganges; and thence those persons after death, instead of being dragged to Yamu, the Holy King, the Judge of the Dead, to receive sentence, immediately ascend to heaven.

The mock fights at the Ram Leela are in remembrance of the time when Hŭnoomān and his monkeys constructed a bridge from the continent of India to Ceylon (Lŭnka), over which Ram’s army passed, and rescued the imprisoned Seeta from the hands of the giant Rawan or Ravuna, who had carried her off. Seeta then passed through the ordeal of fire, and by her miraculous incombustibility assured the world of her purity; Ram placed the mālā, the chaplet of marriage, around her neck, and the monkeys capered and gambolled with delight.

The white marble figure in the frontispiece to the left of Ganesh represents Ram, the deified hero, with his bow and quiver. The brass figure in front of the latter is Hŭnoomān, bearing Ram Seeta on his shoulders.

THE BOARD OF WORKS.

Nov.—The cold season is a busy time. Having procured a quantity of teak timber and toon wood, we established a Board of Works in the verandah, consisting of five carpenters, two sawyers, two turners, six iron-smiths, one stone-cutter, and one harness-maker. Most excellent and very handsome were the dining-tables, sideboard, horseshoe-table, wardrobes, &c., and a Stanhope made by these men, from our own designs.

The carpenters carve wood extremely well. On my return to England, I saw and admired a round table in a friend’s drawing-room; “Do you not remember,” said she with surprise, “you made up that table yourself?” On looking at it, I recognized the pedestal and claw carved with broad leaves, copied from a model I made for my carpenter of Ganges mud.

The furniture was of various kinds of wood, as follows:—

Teak sāgūn (tectona grandis) or Indian oak—a fine heavy timber, in colour resembling oak; strong and good wood. The teak I made use of came from Ava, and was brought up from the salt-water lake near Calcutta; good sāgūn was also to be purchased at Cawnpore.

The finest is brought from Java and Ava. I saw one plank of Java teak which, even when made up, measured five feet six inches in diameter. It was the top of an oval table. It bears a good polish, and is suited for tables, wardrobes, and the beds of billiard-tables. In the up-country the usual price is one rupee per foot when the plank is one inch in thickness; in Calcutta, the same price when the plank is four inches in thickness. The general size of the timber brought from Ava is eighteen inches in breadth.

Sāl, sānkho or sākoo (shorea robusta)—a heavy strong wood, from the up-country; fit for beams of houses, wardrobes, frames, window-frames, kitchen-tables, &c. Price, when thirty feet in length by seventeen inches in breadth, twenty-six rupees; when twenty-one feet in length by twenty-two in breadth, thirty-two rupees. It is sold cheap at Cawnpore in September and October.

Shīsham, sissoo or sesoo (dalbergia sissoo)—from the up-country; fit for tables, chairs, carriage-wheels and bodies; very heavy, takes a good polish, fine grained. Price, eighteen feet in length by fourteen in breadth, thirteen rupees; good for bullock-collars; cheap in September.

Toon—a light soft-grained wood, very much resembling mahogany; fit for tables, chairs, billiard-table frames, book-cases, &c.; reasonable at Cawnpore.

Soondry—comes from Calcutta; the best wood for shafts and carriage-wheels.

Arnoose, or bastard ebony, also called teenoo—a common timber, found on the banks of the Jumna; used for firewood; three or four mŭns per rupee. In the centre of the wood the ebony is found, which is lighter, both in colour and weight, than the ebony from the hills (abnoos), which is very heavy, hard, and difficult to cut; also of a good blackness; useful for handles of seals, chess-men, &c.

Cocoa-nut tree, naryul—from Calcutta; also one of the best for shafts; the bark is curious; when petrified and polished it is made into ornaments, brooches, &c.

Sutsaul—something like rosewood; comes from the Nepaul Terāee.

Tindoa—hard, tough, and very good for turning.

Rouswood (rous)—from the hills; extremely delicate and fine grained; turns beautifully; colour light. I procured rouswood fit for turning in the jungles near Allahabad.

Neem or neemb (melia azadirachta)—extremely heavy and tough; colour light—almost white; turns well.

Korieah—Benares toys are made of this wood: it is beautifully white, fine grained, and delicate; it turns delightfully, and is very light. The toys are lacquered on the lathe by applying sealing-wax to them; the friction warms the sealing-wax, and it adheres. See Appendix, No. 11.

Mango-wood, amrā, (spondias mangifera)—fit for common work, out-house doors and beams, kitchen-tables, &c.

Babul—a very heavy and extremely hard wood (acacia Arabica).

Patang—a red wood, used in colouring cloths.

Lall chundun—a cedar.

Chucrassy—also walnut-wood from the hills.

From the Soane and Cane rivers we procured about half a bushel of pebbles, consisting of chalcedony, moss-agate, tree and fortification agate, cornelian, cinnamon-stone, goree (a sort of spar); and from Lucnow and Agra, bloodstone, lapis-lazuli, jet, petrified cocoa-nut bark, plum-pudding-stone, fossil-stone, gold-stone, and amethyst.

The tree-agate, or tree-stone, is so called by the natives from the marks on the surface resembling trees and flowers. In other agates the marks lie deep in the stone, in these they are all on the surface, and in grinding and polishing are easily destroyed, unless care be taken not to go too deep; they reminded me of a stone I saw in England, called Mocha-stone, which was set in small brilliants.

The pebbles from the Soane river are generally esteemed more than those of the Cane.

The process of cutting, and grinding, and polishing pebbles is as follows:—

The pebble is kept firm by being fastened on a board by a bit of lac—not sealing-wax. It is cut in halves by a small bamboo bow, strung with fine iron wire; powdered kurand patthar and water are put upon it during the time. The bow is used by the hand. The natives cut the pebbles by this simple method wonderfully even.

The Indian lathe for grinding and polishing stones is turned by the hŭkāk, or stone-cutter, with a long bow in his right hand, whilst with the left hand he applies the pebble to the wheel.

It has four wheels—three of them are made of kurand patthar: the first wheel is of coarsely-pounded particles; in the second the particles are finer; and, in the third, are reduced to a fine powder. The wheels are merely kurand patthar mixed with glue, and formed into a large broad flat cake; in the centre a hole is cut to allow their being put upon the lathe. The pebble having been cut by the stone-cutter, is now ready for grinding, which is performed by pressing it against the first wheel with the right hand, and using water and pounded kurand patthar at the same time, until the most uneven parts on the surface are removed; the second wheel is then put on, and the surface a little more reduced; after which the third wheel is used, and the stone becomes perfectly even: the kurand patthar, in powder, and water, is used with all the three wheels.

It is now to be polished, which is done upon a wooden wheel. The kurand patthar is but very little known to stone-cutters and cutlers in England; for a further account of it, see Appendix, No. 12.

The pebbles, bloodstone, lapis-lazuli, and agates which I had cut and polished for bracelets, brooches, and snuff-boxes, were beautiful, and did honour to the hŭkāk.

During the time of the burra mela (great fair) at Prāg, natives used to come round to the houses of the gentry with boxes full of polished pebbles for sale—in sets for necklaces and bracelets, and large stones for snuff-boxes.

Raj Ghāt is on the banks of the Ganges, about a mile and a half above the Fort of Allahabad, and the village of Daragunge extends along the side of the Mahratta Bund above for some distance. To the right of the spot where travellers land on coming from Benares is a fine building, called a dhrumsālā, or place to distribute alms; it is dedicated to a form of Māhadēo, which stands in the shiwālā, or little temple, above: the form of this octagonal temple, as well as that of a similar one, which stands at the other side of the building, is very beautiful. On the left are the remains of a very large and curious old well. “Why is a woman like a Hindoo temple[49]?”

After sketching this dhrumsālā, we ascended the bank to Daragunge, to see the inner court, and found it filled with elephants, tattoos, cows, and natives. It is used as a sarāe, or abode for travellers. I saw there a most beautiful and exceedingly small gynee (a dwarf cow), with two bars of silver round each of her little legs; she looked so pretty, and was quite tame. Through the doorways of this court you look into the little octagonal temples, and, through their arches, on a fine expanse of the Ganges which flows below.

You cannot roam in India as in Europe, or go into places crowded with natives, without a gentleman; they think it so incorrect and so marvellous, that they collect in crowds to see a beebee sāhiba who is indecent enough to appear unveiled. A riding-habit and hat, also, creates much surprise in unfrequented bazārs, where such a thing is a novelty.

We proceeded through the bustee (village) on foot, and up a dirty alley, through which I could scarcely pass, to the Temple of Hŭnoomān, the black-faced and deified monkey, and found there an enormous image of the god painted red and white, and made either of mud or stone. A great number of worshippers were present. The bearers hold Hŭnoomān in the greatest reverence.

In another apartment were forty or fifty large and small figures, representing Ram and Seeta his consort, with his brother Lutchman, Hŭnoomān, and all his army of monkeys. Seeta was carried off by the giant Ravuna, Hŭnoomān fought for and restored her to Ram, therefore they are worshipped together.

These figures were decorated with coloured cloth and tinsel, much in the same manner in which the saints are clothed in the churches in France. I had never but once before seen idols, in India, tricked out after this fashion. Many lamps were burning before the shrine. We were allowed to behold them from the door, but not to enter the apartment.

The evening was very fine; my companion, as well as myself, enjoyed rambling about and exploring such queer, curious, and out-of-the-way places.

A DHRUMSĀLĀ BĒNE MĀHADĒO GHĀT.

We descended to the side of the Ganges, and walked on until we came to the Ghāt of Bene-Māhadēo which is represented in the sketch, where there is another dhrumsālā. This building is also dedicated to Shivŭ; the mystical symbol is in the small temple above. Under the arches in the lower part, by the side of the Ganges, is an enormous figure of Ganeshŭ; many worshippers were present, who were pouring oil and Ganges water over the image, with rice and flowers, and hanging chaplets of flowers around his neck. The idol was dripping with oil.

Above the god, over the arch, three long thin bamboos were stuck up, each bearing the red flag of a fakīr, adding greatly to the picturesque beauty of the scene. These flags denoted that three holy men had there taken up their abode for a time. This temple is very picturesque, and the fine trees around it add to its beauty.

We ascended the banks, and entered the dhrumsālā. It fronts the Ganges, and a high wall around the other three sides separates it from the bazār. We entered by a gateway of three arches. The court in the interior contained three long buildings supported on arches, and two octagonal temples, one at each end. The front facing the Ganges had no wall, being built on the edge of a high cliff. In the arched building to the right, in which were many apartments, we found a number of devotees singing and making a great religious noise with small brazen cymbals.

ADANSONIA DIGITATA.

Dec. 5th.—The gunpowder agency at Papamhow has been done away with by the government, and our friend has quitted us for England. I must not take leave of Papamhow without mentioning the remarkable trees in the grounds. The natives call them veläitee imlee. They are enormous trees, natives of Africa. Adansonia digitata, from Michel Adanson, a French botanist. M. G. Mollien thus speaks of this tree—the boabab, Ethiopian sour-gourd, or monkeys’-meat tree—in his travels in Africa: “This was the first time that I saw the boabab, that enormous tree which has been described by Adanson, and which bears his name ‘Adansonia.’ I measured one, and found it to be forty feet in circumference. This majestic mass is the only monument of antiquity to be met with in Africa. To the negroes the boabab is perhaps the most valuable of vegetables. Its leaves are used for leaven, its bark furnishes indestructible cordage, and the bees form their hives in the cavities of its trunk. The negroes, too, often shelter themselves from storms in its time-worn caverns. The boabab is indisputably the monarch of African trees.” It is also called monkeys’-bread. Several measured by Adanson were from sixty-five to seventy-eight feet in circumference, but not extraordinarily high. The bark furnishes a coarse thread, used in Africa for cloth and ropes; the small leaves are used as bread in times of scarcity, and the large for covering their houses, or, by burning, for the manufacture of soap.

This tree may be styled the Jugunnāth of the forest, from the style in which it grows; its large branches terminating in an abrupt end, from which the small branches are given off.

Ropes made of the boabab-tree are indestructible; there is a saying, “As secure as an elephant bound with a boabab rope.” Two of these fine trees are still standing in the grounds, there were originally three; the sketch was taken in January, 1827. One of the trees fell down in the rains of that year, on the day Lord Amherst arrived at Allahabad on his return from the hills; it measured thirty-five feet in circumference, and we were surprised to find it had scarcely any roots. It did not fall from age, or from the wind, but because the branches on one side were much heavier than those on the other. It was so full of juicy sap that, when the tree was cut, the sap ran out like water, and the agent preserved some of it in bottles. The wood was woolly, spongy, of little or no use as timber, and useless even as firewood—it would not burn.

Another of these trees, which measured thirty-seven feet in circumference, is still in the grounds, which are on the banks of the Ganges.

The tree that fell was supposed by the natives to be 1100 years old. It is only wonderful, from the short distance the roots penetrated into the ground, it had not long ago been laid prostrate by a tūfān. These trees are natives of Senegal, and are known in central India; but those at Papamhow are the only ones on our side the country.

Adanson supposed this tree to exceed almost any other in longevity. He inferred that the one he measured, and found to be thirty feet in diameter, had attained the age of 5150 years. Having made an incision to a certain depth of the stem, he first counted 300 rings of annual growth, and observed what thickness the tree had gained in that period. The average rate of growth of younger trees of the same species was then ascertained, and the calculation was made according to the supposed mean rate of increase.

Had we known the proverb at this time, we would have made ropes of its bark. On the very topmost bough of one of the trees a vulture had built its nest, and appeared to have made the boabab its city of refuge; the aerie was filled annually.

The flower is large, beautiful, and smells like a ripe apple; the fruit small and granular; the leaves large and fine. It is said there are several species of this tree in Africa, one of which yields a large fruit.

During the annual fair held in the grounds at Papamhow in the month of August, the gaily dressed natives congregated under the widely spreading branches of the Adansonia, increased the picturesque beauty of the trees.

Let me record the death of little Jack Bunce, my pet squirrel. On our arrival at Prāg I went into the stable to see a sick horse, and, hearing a chirping noise, looked up, and saw a young squirrel, which, having escaped from its nest, was in great perplexity on its first expedition from home. I caught it. Its eyes were open; but it could not run very fast. For the first week it lived either in my husband’s pocket or on my shoulder; if alarmed, it took refuge with him. It became very tame, and never ran away. A gay house with two rooms was built for it. At first it drank milk and ate sweetmeats (pera); as it grew older it had bread, grain, milk, and whatever it pleased during meals, at which time it would quit my shoulder for the table. We caught several young ones, and put them into Jack’s cage; he was pleased, and tended them like a little old nurse; but they grew very wild, and we let them go, with the exception of one little female whom Jack reared as his helpmate, and appeared very fond of her; she was very wild, and would not allow me to touch her. They went with me to Lucnow. One night I heard Jack and his wife quarrelling violently—she bit off his beautiful long tail, and Jack killed her for it: the wretches also ate their young one. Jack returned with me, and, to complete his education, I took him to the holy city of Benares, that he might gain absolution for his little improprieties. Never was there so travelled a squirrel! He lived with us three years, always fat, sleek, and merry; and very fond of us, chirping and running to us when we called him; at last he fell ill, and died quickly. Sometimes he would run off into the garden, but when I called him would return, run up my gown to my shoulder, and give a shrill peculiar whistle; he was the largest of the kind I ever saw, and the three streaks down his back were beautiful. Poor little Jack! you were a nice and sensible little animal! The males are more courageous, and more easily tamed, than the females.

At this time the plain in front of the fort, by the avenue on the side of the Jumna, was exceedingly picturesque. It was covered by an encampment awaiting the arrival of the Governor-general. There were assembled 200 elephants, 1000 camels, horses and hackeries, servants and natives without number. A double set of new tents for the Governor-general were pitched on the plain; the tents which were new the year before, and which cost a lac, having been discarded. These new tents, the elephants, camels, horses, and thousands of servants, will cost the Company more than half-batta saves in the course of a year.

News have just arrived that the Directors have rendered all this encampment useless, by sending orders to Lord William Bentinck not to proceed up the country at their expense; in consequence Lord William has discharged the people. I am glad they are going away. Last night a friend of ours, who is in tents in our grounds, had his gun and dressing-case stolen, no doubt by thieves from the encampment.

20th.—The ashes of a rajah were brought to Prāg this morning to be thrown into the Ganges at the holy junction; they were accompanied by the servants of the rajah, bearing presents to be given, as is the custom, to the Brahmans, amongst which were two remarkably fine Persian horses. One of these horses, a flea-bitten grey from Bokhara, was bought by us from the Brahman to whom it had been presented. On Christmas-day my husband gave me this horse, making my own particular riding-stud amount to a fair number—Mootee, Black Poney, Trelawny, Bokhara. Are ladies in England as fond of their horses as I am? They cannot make pets of them in that country as we can in India.

25th.—How many presents I received this day—and such odd ones—the Bokhara grey, a sketch of Lord William Bentinck, Martin’s Deluge, a proof-print, a bag of walnuts, a diamond ring, a hill-shawl, two jars of jam, and two bottles of hill-honey! All farewell-gifts from friends bound to England. We spent the evening around the horseshoe-table, the coal fire blazing brightly as we cracked the hill-walnuts and enjoyed the society of our friends. Of all the offerings of that day, the most welcome was a packet of letters from the beloved and absent ones in England. “A letter is half an interview[50].”