Domestic Life of the Fire-worshippers.—The Zend-Avesta.—Parsee Rites and Ceremonies at Birth, Marriage, Death, and Final Consignment to the Tower of Silence.

Before we cross the private threshold with a view to take a peep at the domestic life of the Parsees it may be well to state that "Avesta," in one of its deepest significations, is said to be the symbol of womanly fervor and purity. Among the early Zoroastrians it was consecrated in the fire that burned on the hearth, which typified the inviolability of the family, through which the sacredness attached to Asha[22] as the centre and preserver of the order of the universe is reflected upon and consecrated in the mother as the immediate centre of the home, "the transmitter of human life," and the preserver of family bonds.

The ancient Fire-worshippers are commanded in their religious books to watch over the woman in the home. It is a religious obligation. In the first male child centre the past, present, and future glory of the father. Children have always been the desire, "the crown of glory," to an Oriental. Thus the mother became in the Zend-Avesta the "holy mystic one," through whom man himself was born again as a son. She was the goddess of abundance, the irradiator of his hearth and home.

While the procreative and nutritive offices of woman called forth deep religious enthusiasm and veneration, the peculiar physical difference which these entailed on her appealed to a dawning sense of chivalric generosity; and it was a tender regard for her physical liabilities that first led to the institution of distinct rules for her life at times and seasons when she was most likely to be overworked, oppressed, or unduly taxed; and these rules time has rendered fixed and absolute as the Medo-Persic laws. But all through this rigidness of custom are seen not only a tenderness for the weakness of woman, but a high appreciation of her ideality and beauty.

A Parsee Lady.

"A wife cannot be set aside, save for the crime of adultery alone. She may be superseded because of barrenness, but not a beloved and virtuous wife. It is better to be childless here and hereafter than to wound or grieve her for a moment. And in any case let her not be set aside but by her own consent and free will." In all such cases she must be supported and cared for tenderly until death. It was an unpardonable offence against God to leave a wife destitute and without support. Unmarried daughters—a very rare occurrence among the Parsees—are entitled to an equal share of the mother's estate. A wife is not responsible for the debts of husband or son, whereas they are held strictly responsible for hers, and the son is enjoined, as the highest duty to the gods, to support his mother after the death of her husband. In a husband habitual vices—such as profligacy, intemperance, cruelty—insanity, and impotence, were held sufficient excuse for aversion. She was neither to be punished nor deprived of her property in any such case.

A father is strictly forbidden to sell his daughter—i. e. to take money in any shape whatever when giving her in marriage, but is enjoined, on the contrary, to furnish her with a handsome dowry.

The Parsee woman is as independent in her home and marriage relations as the European, although the universal seclusion of high-born Hindoo and Mohammedan women has not been without its influence on her domestic life. The first use of the veil among the Persian women was as a symbol of dignity and honor rather than of concealment from motives of modesty. In the early days of the Zoroastrians woman was held not so much as an equal, but as something superior in the home. In social rights and home-duties the husband and wife shared alike, and side by side they ministered to the holy fires on their household hearths. In the "Prajapatya" form, which, though VÈdic, is equally binding on the Fire-worshipper, the bride and bridegroom are distinctly enjoined to perform together their civil and religious duties. But the poetic love and reverence which surrounded woman in the early days of the Aryans, and which is still unsurpassed in all their literature, struck deeper than laws or rules, and in a burst of generous and spiritual enthusiasm "all men were commanded to bow the knee in filial reverence before the mother of a family, declaring a mother to be greater, more blessed, than a thousand fathers." Thus we see how much the simple fact of maternity tended to elevate woman in the home. And the desire to foster and protect her led these early worshippers to typify womanly purity as ever sacred, and as ever ready to comfort and cheer the heart of man as is the carefully-watched fire that burned on their altars.

But, alas! the rules and obligations which were originally intended for her safety and happiness are now forged into iron fetters to bind her, too often a willing slave, to the caprice of man, and have been used, and still are urged, against her higher advancement to the privileges of a liberal education.

Nevertheless, there are among the Parsees even to-day a few old-fashioned observances which might be introduced with great advantage to the wife and mother among the laboring and even richer classes of European nations. For instance, even in the poorest families there are certain days when the woman is considered unfit to cook, wash, bake, sweep the floor, or light the house-lamp. So strenuous are the laws against her working at these times that among certain persons her touch is held to pollute the thing or person that comes into close contact with her. She is forbidden to perform even the lighter offices which may fall to her share in the house. She separates herself from the family on such occasions. If she is too poor to keep a servant, her husband is enjoined to do her part of the housework in addition to his own outdoor labor, whatever that may be. The same rules apply to all female servants.

During pregnancy woman is held sacred among both Persians and Hindoos. Their laws are fixed and absolute on all points relating to maternity, whereas in European countries women are often treated with less kindness and consideration than the household and domestic animals. Disregarded by man, she is too apt to neglect and overwork herself at such times. But in the Parsee code of laws maternity and childbirth are protected by deep religious obligations. "All harsh words, anger, sorrow, anything that will occasion pain of mind and body, are to be kept away from the woman with child." "She is forbidden all strong drink, all unhealthy intercourse with neighbors and friends; she cannot travel from home or from place to place, or look upon unsightly objects, or listen to any but pleasant and familiar sounds." In fact, woman at such times is to be guarded with an especial religious care, "as the household priestess or divinity, who is on the eve of unveiling the future greatness and glory of the family by the gift of a male child."

Another and a very old superstition among the early Aryans and Parsees, if we may call these tender observances by such a name, is that the living, thinking, intelligent soul (which is held to be distinct from the life) of the child takes up its habitation in the heart and pulse of the unborn babe forty-nine days, or seven times seven sunrises and sunsets, before its advent into the world. This curious belief makes them regard the mother at such times as overshadowed by the presence of a divine being. Hence, before the "holy breath" has animated the unborn babe the mother is conveyed with religious care to the ground-floor of the house. There are both spiritual and physical reasons for this step: that she may not be disturbed by the ordinary household cares and jars; that the child should enter into the world on the solid breast of the great mother of all, the earth; and that she may not undergo the fatigue of climbing stairs, which Oriental women very much dislike. Here she remains fifty days, and sometimes even more, before, and forty days after, the birth of her child, tenderly cared for by every member of the family, for to neglect her at such a time is to forfeit the blessings of the seven high angels who are about the throne of Ahura-Mazda.

In the centre of her chamber there is an enclosed spot, sometimes provided with a cot, and all around it is a low wall or a light fence to guard off all irreverent approach. At the time of delivery her women place her in this sacred spot, and here, in the heart and centre of the Fire-worshipper's home, the newborn child is ushered into the world.

Among the Hindoos, and even among the more uneducated of the Parsees, these observances have lost their original signification, and have dwindled down not only to a mere ritual ceremony, but are corrupted into a gross superstition. The poor mother is now looked upon as being impure,[23] and her seclusion from the rest of the family necessary to preserve the entire household from the much-dreaded pollution of childbirth; therefore none of the members of the household will approach or touch the mother—not from a fear of harming her, but rather of pollution to themselves—until forty days after her confinement and after she has undergone a series of purifications and performed a great many sacramental rites.

The whole course of the future life is carefully traced out for every child that is born unto the world. First of all, at the moment of birth it is the duty of the nurse and midwife to carefully observe the time, the hour, the signs, and marks, and any and every unusual occurrence which may happen at the moment of delivery, particularly the aspect of the heavens at the time of day; if at night, the appearance of the moon and stars, and all such phenomena. All these and the exact moment of the infant's birth are noted down. The newborn child is also carefully examined as to its physical conditions, and these also are commented upon and set down for the use of the astrologer. The mother too has especial attention bestowed upon her; incense is kept burning at her bedside; she is fumigated twice a day by means of a censer in which odoriferous gums are burnt; tapers are lit and sent as offerings to the Fire-temples, with wine, fruit, flowers, sweet oils, and frankincense and myrrh.

On the seventh day after the birth of the child an astrologer and priest are invited to determine the horoscope of the newborn infant. The former, having ascertained the moment of birth and all other notable things with regard to mother and child, begins by drawing on a wooden board a set of hieroglyphics in chalk as curious as they are complicated, and his dexterity in counting and recounting the stars under whose influence the child is supposed to be born is marvellous; after which all the assembled relatives press forward, especially the father, eager and trembling to hear the astrologer predict in a solemn voice the future life and prospects of the newborn babe.

According to these curious speculations, if the child is born at the point of Cancer he will be a great man; if at the point of Capricorn, he will be a great priest and reformer. Under the influence of the planet Saturn he will be distinguished for intelligence (though some priests hold the influence of Saturn to be dark and sinister over human life); if under Jupiter, for power and physical strength. If he happens to be born at the moment of the arrival of the sun at the summer solstice, the child is looked upon as the favorite of Heaven, and every good fortune is predicted as the result. Should the planet Mars preside at the time of birth, they foretell great trouble and sorrow; if Mercury, poverty and early death; under Venus, contentment and peace; and under the moon, a numerous progeny. The astrologer then enumerates the names which are the most appropriate for the child to bear, so as to mark his or her astral relations; the parents make a choice of one of them. The Fire-priest then takes the babe and places it on his knees, waves a lamp lighted from the sacred fire over it, calls aloud its name, and implores Ahura-Mazda to fulfil all the good and avert all the evil predicted by the stars of heaven at the hour of its birth.

After the expiration of the forty days, and having undergone seven purifications by fire and smoke and various incense fumigations, the mother returns to the family circle as before, but is exempted from much arduous work while nursing her infant.

I was fortunate enough to be present one evening at the house of Shet Dorabjee, a Parsee merchant of Bombay, when one of their most beautiful services was held. It was the simple act of lighting their evening lamp, which in every Parsee household is one of the most sacred duties. This lamp is poetically called "the dispeller of darkness." It is always lighted in the evening, but goes out at dawn. Besides this, an earthen and ever-burning lamp is preserved in almost all Parsee homes.

On the occasion when I happened to be present at the house of Shet Dorabjee the front door was gently closed at twilight. The family, of whom there were no less than forty-five persons, assembled around this "hearth-lamp." My charming hostess and friend, the lady Shet Dorabjee, repaired to the secret chamber, kindled her torch at the perpetual fire, mingled its flame with her breath by lightly blowing on it, returned, and lighted the hearth-lamp. Then the family all stood up—father, mother, sisters, brothers, children, and grandchildren—no stranger being allowed to join the circle. I stood aside and quietly watched the scene. With their arms crossed upon their breasts while the mother was lighting the evening lamp, they repeated this prayer (of which I obtained the translation): "O Ahura-Mazda, thou who dwellest where the sun never shines, where the lightnings flash not, from that world, thy secret hiding-place, kindle our hearts to worship the pure Lord of Purity;" to which the whole family responded, "So be it, O Divine Illuminator."

Consecration into the Zoroastrian religion takes place in the seventh year of a child's life. First comes the strange purification by washing the child's body and face with the urine of the cow. This curious and disgusting custom is said to be handed down from the most ancient times, when this liquid was regarded as a very effective remedy against any disorder of the bodily organs. This done, a prayer is repeated, and the body is bathed again in pure water. There is a second and a third process, each called purification; the second consists of standing face to face with the fire, and praying to the Light without beginning or end; the third in repeating, with arms crossed, the Zoroastrian creed and acknowledging the truth of the Zoroastrian religion.

The child is then seated before the high priest, who puts on him a linen garment of nine seams and a woollen girdle of seventy-two threads. These are the exact number of the sacred books of the Fire-worshippers. These two are called the "garments of the pure and faithful," and the whole ceremony is concluded with a benediction of fire and prayer, the former being waved round and round over the child, and the latter being chanted.

The last and peculiar initiation takes place when the youth has attained his fourteenth year. He stands clad in pure white among the priests and his assembled relatives and friends in the Fire-temple. Here he repeats his vows; the priests warn him of certain temptations that will beset his youth and manhood, and the shame and suffering that will follow him through life if he should prove unfaithful to the higher instincts of his nature. They then invite him to drink the "homa" or "soma" juice, and to join them in practising purity in thought, word, and deed.

The "soma," or moon-plant, is a round smooth twining plant peculiar to the Aravalli Hills; it is also found in the deserts north of Delhi and in the mountain-passes of the Bolan, and it is imported into Bombay. It possesses not only medicinal, but, when allowed to ferment, slightly intoxicating, properties. It is the privilege of the Fire-priests and the most devout of the congregation to partake once a month, at the time of the new moon, of this intoxicating juice. Those who are about to partake of it generally abstain from food from sunrise till noon, which is the hour for celebrating this ceremony.

A day or two before the appearance of the new moon the stalks of this plant are bruised with the tender shoots of the acacia and with pomegranates, extracting thereby an acrid greenish juice. This is put in a strainer of goat's hair, after which it must be pressed through by the priest's fingers; this juice, mixed with barley and clarified butter, is allowed to ferment, when it forms the "soma wine." On the first morning after the new moon is seen in the heavens the Fire-priests repair to their temple, where, after certain prayers and chants, the soma-juice is drawn off in a vessel; a portion is thrown into a sacred well as a libation to the earth, a ladleful is drank by the priests, and the residue is handed round to the people who are present. The priests then join hands and wait for the stimulating properties to reach the brain, whereupon they wheel round chanting a hymn full of mystical meaning.

Strange as it may seem to us, the exhilarating property of this drink is supposed to shadow forth the presence of divine life in the soul, and this life of thought and emotion is often poetically called "wine"—"the wine that fills creation's cup."[24]

The Parsees in worshipping the sun turn their faces to the rising luminary, and, holding before them branches of certain trees, chant aloud. In our early-morning rides on Malabar Hill, as the sun made his first appearance above the horizon, the white-robed priests of Iran were always before us, crowding the summit of the hill; they could be seen with their faces turned eastward, with branches of acacia raised aloft in their hands, singing their morning hymn to the god of day.[25]

We knew personally several of the Fire-priests of Bombay. They seemed less intelligent than the ordinary Parsees, and some of them went through their religious duties mechanically and without any of that religious fervor that I had noticed in the Brahmans; but I have seen others who were both intelligent and extremely devout.

Among the Fire-worshippers the marriage of one's children is the first and earliest consideration. Marriage is held a high sacred and religious obligation, and mothers often pledge their children in marriage before they are born, and if their children prove of the right sex their pledge is held sacred. In most cases, however, the priests are the go-betweens or the matchmakers. This is held as one of the most important of the ministerial duties that fall to the care of a Fire-priest. As soon as a Parsee sees what he and his wife consider an eligible mate for his son or daughter, direct negotiations are opened with the parents by means of the Fire-priest, who calls on the parties, and after some few preliminary questions with regard to the temper and disposition of the proposed mother-in-law on the part of the relatives of the young maiden, the Fire-priest (who cannot proceed until he has examined the respective horoscopes) demands the birth-paper of the little maiden in question, who, perhaps all unconscious of what is going on, may be frequently seen hiding behind her mother and peering timidly at the white-robed Fire-priest who is about to decide one of the most important events of her future life.

Everything depends on the positions of their respective stars. The stars once declared favorable, however, matters proceed rapidly and the betrothal takes place. This consists of an exchange of dresses from the parents of the young couple; but so rigid are their rules that the acceptance of this simple gift is held by each of the parents as the sign of an indissoluble bond between the children.

Even the day for the celebration of the marriage (after the children have arrived at the respective ages of eighteen for the boy and fifteen to sixteen for the maiden) is selected by the Fire-priests. Indeed, there are only a few days in the year held propitious for marriage by both the Hindoo and Parsee. So many marriages take place on these favored days that to a stranger it would appear as if the entire native population was being married off.

We were invited to the celebration of the marriage of Munchejee Sorabjee's daughter, a very beautiful girl and a great heiress in her own right, her late uncle having left her a very large fortune. We arrived early, so as to witness the whole ceremony from beginning to end.

It was a lovely place near Mazagaum. The house was approached through grand old groves; there were rustic seats here and there, and inviting grassy slopes whence one could catch glimpses of the distant sea. We were shown into a spacious hall, where we took our places, with several other European guests, on divans arranged along the walls.

Just before sunset the bridegroom's party arrived in full dress of pure white, all save the turban, which was of a dark chocolate color, ornamented with precious stones. Each of the gentlemen attached to the bridegroom's party had garlands of white flowers around his neck. Behind these came a long row of Fire-priests in flowing white linen robes, white turbans, and long white silk scarfs.

The nuptial ceremony must always be held on the ground-floor, and after all the guests, some three or four hundred Parsees, had taken their places round the hall, there was heard a gentle buzz of expectation. All eyes turned involuntarily to the great lofty door at the western extremity of the room. It opened, and for a moment the young bride stood still, hesitating at the threshold of the unknown future before her. Presently both bride and bridegroom entered. I never saw a more graceful or more beautiful creature than this young Parsee bride. Her dress was exquisitely simple—white satin trousers fastened at the ankle, above a pale blue silk bodice covered with some sort of rich white embroidery, and over it all, wound round her whole person, half veiling her face, was a semi-transparent flowing scarf, every curve and twist of which was arranged with the most artistic effect. They walked in side by side. A murmur of delight ran through the audience at the delicate downcast face, the grace, and the beauty of the half-veiled maiden figure before us. When the couple reached the centre of the hall they bowed down and performed a sort of mystic prostration to Mother Earth in the presence of the Fire-priests. They then stood up, joined hands, and waited for the auspicious moment. All eyes were turned upon the youthful pair; every one was almost breathless with tender expectation, save the Fire-priests, who watched the sunlight fading out of the sky. With the vanishing of the last shimmering gleam of light the ceremony began. Torches and lamps were kindled with fire from their temple by the Fire-priests, who approached the young couple, and, waving round them the sacred light, sprinkled them with consecrated water; then taking an immense "purda," or veil, placed it over one of their number and over the bride and groom, who were shrouded beneath its folds for some minutes; meanwhile other priests chanted the following hymn: "O man, in the name of the great Ahura-Mazda, be ever pure and faithful, and bright in good actions as the immortal Light. Be ever worthy of all praise and honor in the heart of this woman, now thy wife. May the spirits of fire, sun, and water give thee wisdom! May the peaceful earth, whose fragrance is excellent, whose breasts contain the heavenly drink, fill thee with the purity of the Pure and the benevolence of the great Yohoo mano (beneficent spirit) toward this woman thy wife!"

Then the chant is addressed to the bride: "O woman of mysterious body, be thou immortal like Kosru (one of the fixed stars). Be full of understanding for thyself, thy husband, and the fruit of thy body, as a capacious vessel full of love, fervid as the sun by day, tender and pure as the moon by night; heavy laden as the cow (clouds) with moisture" (meaning heavy laden with kindness, as the clouds with moisture). "Be serene, be wise, be steady as the fixed stars. May Ahura-Mazda give you fire for brightness and purity, the sun for exalted rule! May the shadowless night give you the moon for increase and the sky for life everlasting!"

The instant the chanting—which was drawled out in monotone by the assembly of the Fire-priests—ceased the great white veil was withdrawn, and the young couple were man and wife.

The bride then, blushing scarlet and looking if possible still more lovely than before, received the eager and hearty congratulations of her friends and relatives, who pressed around her and embraced her. Her mother and aunts wept with joy and poured tender benedictions on her young head. It was a trying ordeal for the poor girl. I noted every shade of feeling that passed over her face. She wore a look of constraint, every now and then blushing crimson; she bit her lips in order to keep herself from giving way to her own conflicting emotions.

After this came the bridegroom's turn to salute and be saluted by his own and his wife's relatives. A knot of gay young Parsee gentlemen surrounded him with welcome sounds of greeting and laughter when the next important part of the ceremony began. A young Parsee lad, magnificently dressed, appeared, bringing in a large bowl of milk, and a charmingly dressed young maiden advanced, the younger sister of the bride, with a choole, or vest, belonging to the newly-made wife.

That "there is only one step from the sublime to the ridiculous" is only too true, for this rare and unique ceremony was absolutely concluded by the Fire-priests washing the toes of the bridegroom in the milk, and then they rubbed his face all over with the cast-off garment of his wife. As far as I could understand, the one was a sign of the great future happiness in store for the husband, and the other that he was no longer his own master, but henceforth under petticoat government. It is but just to add that most of the Parsee gentlemen present seemed to have outgrown this ridiculous custom, but the ladies smirked and giggled and seemed to enjoy it immensely.

After this came the end. The happy but confused-looking young couple retired (dripping with rose and jessamine waters showered over them) to their new abode, which in most cases is in the paternal home of the husband.

The Parsees have but few festivals; the birthday of Zoroaster and their New Year's Day are the most important. The former is held in the month of October, and it is a sight worth seeing. The men, women, and children, magnificently dressed in gold-wrought silks and flashing jewels, crowd the Fire-temples with offerings of fruit and flowers. Long processions of priests robed in pure white take turns in officiating, and chant after chant ascends from the temples to the shining Ahura-Mazda, accompanied with invocations to the spirits of the righteous dead, and to the seven high angels around the throne. The beautiful half-veiled women, the lovely children, the noble-looking fathers of families with their numberless sons standing at their right hand, and the priests magnifying and feeding the sacred flame from sunrise to sunset, form a sight as inspiring as it is novel.

Their Noow Rooz, or New Year's Day, is observed very much as we do ours. The poor and destitute of all castes and creeds have alms, food, and clothes distributed to them by the rich and great, poor relations receive presents, and among friends kindly visits and gifts are exchanged.

The costume of this peculiar people is exceedingly simple, and said to be made obligatory on them by the rajah of Sajan on their first landing on Indian soil. That of the man consists of a long seamless muslin or silk shirt or tunic reaching to the knees, a woollen girdle with tassels, and a pair of silk trousers; when going out he puts on a sort of tunic, with a short silk vest over it; the modern Parsee gentlemen has also adopted shoes and stockings. The cap or turban by which a Parsee is distinguished is bound round a frame in the form of a little round tower, slightly higher on the right side. The stuff of which it is constructed is a peculiar manufacture made at Surat expressly for the Parsee turban. It is a sort of stiff paper-muslin, figured, and generally of a dark-red or chocolate color, bound round the frame smoothly, till it is made to assume this one particular form of a conical tower (typical of their earliest Fire-temple), around which emeralds and rubies are arranged on great festal occasions.

The Parsee women that I met and visited in Bombay were, on the whole, remarkably good-looking as girls; before they conceal their fine curly hair they are really beautiful, and the children among the loveliest and happiest to be found in the East.

The women are fair-complexioned, with a delicate brunette tinge, with large eyes and regular features, often exquisitely formed, owing to their dress being freed from anything like pressure on the body; but they rob themselves of a part of their beauty by the custom of concealing their beautiful hair under white linen bands bound around the brow. They wear very wide silk trousers, gathered and fastened at the ankles, over this a silk tunic, often descending in graceful folds to the feet and bound at the waist, while a deep, wide scarf of silk or some other light texture gracefully drapes the whole person and serves at once the double purpose of a head-dress and a veil.

They occupy in their homes a much more honorable position than either the Hindoo or Moslem women. They enjoy almost as much freedom as European women. I used to meet them in the streets and bazaars, driving in their open carriages, surrounded by their bright, happy-looking children.

So careful are the Parsees of their national honor that in the whole island of Bombay there exists neither paupers nor prostitutes among the followers of this religion. Polygamy is unknown among them. A wife can only be put away for immoral conduct. She is tried by the Punchayet or Parsee court, and if found guilty repudiated amid the whole assembly; formerly she was put to death.

The ceremonies attending the death of a Parsee are very singular. When a person is about to die he is conveyed to the ground-floor, washed in consecrated water, and his face anointed with holy oil. A lamp or lamps lighted from the sacred fire in the temple are placed by the dying man's bed, and priests stand before him with folded arms crossed on their breasts, and pray for him in a most earnest and beautiful chant. When life becomes quite extinct the body is clothed in a new white cotton shirt of nine seams and a sort of apron, which is thrown over the face. This is bound by a new and sacred girdle of seventy-two threads. The body is then placed on an oblong stone on the floor.

But the most curious part of all is, that along with the Fire-priests the house-dog is brought in, and after they have offered up prayer and praise in the presence of the assembled family, the dog is taken up to the dead body of his friend and master and exhorted to conduct him safely into paradise. If the dog should lick affectionately, as heretofore, the face, or even hands or feet, of his dead friend, it is held as a most auspicious sign of the dead man's ready admittance into heaven. It is but just to add here that the more refined and intelligent Parsees have outgrown this absurd custom and superstition; but the more ignorant certainly believe that every dog has an angel spirit residing in some star, whence it issues forth to convey the souls of the good safely into heaven.[26]

When the time for the removal of the body approaches, lamps lighted from the sacred fires burn around the corpse. The priests stand face to face with the dead, singing praises to the immortal Light; finally, their last prayer or exhortation to the dead soul is chanted. This done, the body, covered with white garments, the hands crossed on the breast, is laid on a long open bier. A number of priests robed in pure white carry the bier to the dohkma or tower of silence, and there the long procession of friends and relatives stand in a circle praying with arms folded, heads bowed, and lips moving silently, while the Fire-priests place the dead body on a long slide and slip it on the iron gratings of this strange circular tomb, to be devoured by birds of prey.

On the third day they pray again in the Fire-temple that the soul of the dead may ascend to heaven, for, according to their sacred books, on the third day "he reaches Mithra (Sun-god), rising above the mountains resplendent in his own spotless purity;" then he comes to the bridge of the "Gatherer" where he is asked as to the conduct of his soul while living in the world. If he is pure, a beautiful, tall, swift spirit, called Serosh, comes thither with a dog, a nine-knotted hook, and the twigs of the "Barsom;" these things are considered efficacious for keeping off evil spirits and guiding him over the heavenly bridge (Chinvat). Here a most exquisite form meets him, lovely and smiling, and when he questions the beautiful maiden, "Who art thou shining so brightly on the wide shore?" she replies, "I am all thy good works, pure thoughts, and pure words, O man." She then takes his hand, leads him smiling and joyous to the archangel Yohoo mano, who rises from his golden throne and speaks thus to the soul: "How happy it is that you have come here to us from mortality to immortality!" Then the soul goes joyfully to Ahura-Mazda, and resides for ever with the immortal saints, praising the unbegotten, self-created Light.

Though the Fire-worshippers believe in the resurrection, they do not hold that it is to be made in the same body; their reverence therefore follows the soul, and not the body deserted by its spiritual tenant, while their reverence for the earth, water, and fire is so profound that they hold burial, cremation, or even casting the ashes into the waters, a sacrilege against the elements. The original idea in exposing the body to the weather was Brahmanic—that of absorption by the elements. The dead body was restored to the sun, air, and sky, to be reunited and launched on the bosom of that "vast Illimitable" whence it had sprung.

The Parsees also hold all birds sacred, as a sort of spiritual agent of universal purification, through whose agency all gross, unclean substances pass into healthy conditions. For these reasons the towers of silence which receive the dead spoil are open to the sky, and by means of the bird of prey it re-enters almost immediately into the domain of life and health and purity.

From the universal testimony of pagan or Christian travellers we find that the Fire-worshippers of India are thought to be more honorable in their dealings with one another, and even with strangers, than the generality of Asiatics, and even than those peoples professing Christianity. They rarely resort to written contracts, as their word is the best bond. Benevolence is said to flow in their veins, so conspicuous have they become for their love of charity. The Rev. Mr. Avington, during his stay at Surat so early as 1698, bore testimony to the fact that the Parsees there were ever more ready to provide for the comfort and support of the poor and suffering than even the Christians; and this reputation they bear to this day in India. The Bombay government voted thanks so far back as 1790 to Sorabjee Muncherjee, who during the scarcity that prevailed at that time daily fed at his own expense two thousand people, comprising Jews, Christians, Mohammedans, and Hindoos. Mrs. Graham, in her journal of a residence in India, declares that she was enraptured with the simplicity, purity, and never-ceasing kindliness of the Parsee community; and every one in India is familiar with the name of that very prince of benevolence and kindliness, the venerable Parsee baronet Sir Jamsetjee Jeeboy, knighted by the queen of England for his unbounded charities, which are not only unsurpassed, but without a parallel, in ancient or modern times. He has done more in his lifetime for Western India, in feeding the poor, releasing unhappy prisoners for debt, building causeways, founding schools and colleges for the education of all castes and conditions of men and women, erecting hospitals for the relief of the suffering poor, benevolent institutions for the deformed, spacious resting-places, or dhurrum-salas, for weary travellers in all parts of India, stupendous aqueducts, wells, and tanks, than any other single individual, or even the East India Company, for the benefit of mankind. Connected with the Grant Medical College of Bombay is the noble hospital, the gift of this Parsee baronet; and only a few years ago his family erected a hospital for incurables near it. An ophthalmic hospital has been opened and endowed by another liberal Parsee, Cowasjee Jehangheer.

The late Sir Jamsetjee commenced life in Bombay at the early age of twelve as a street peddler, selling old bottles, and was called "Bottle-wallah" to the day of his death.

In the short space of two centuries of undisturbed industry the Parsees have placed themselves in competition with the foremost of the Europeans in India. In liberality and enterprise they rank with the merchant-princes of England, and may be justly compared to the most famous merchants that America has produced in the last century, and yet no question has ever been raised as to the commercial integrity of the Parsees. In the Indian banks and various other stock companies the Parsees are prime movers. They are almost the exclusive owners of all the trading-steamers that now navigate the Indian and China seas. They are great landholders, and many of the finest residences in the island of Bombay are owned by Parsees. They have shared largely in introducing railways into India. Jamsetjee Dorabjee is now considered the foremost railroad contractor in India. The most difficult passes extending from the Thull Ghauts to the Kustsarah Mountains, covered with wild jungles, full of trap hills, mountain-torrents at one season of the year, and devoid of water at another, were laid open and made as easy of travel by railroad as the most finished roads in England or America. Many English officers of the engineer department have declared the building of this railroad across the Thull Ghauts and Kustsarah a more arduous undertaking than that of the great Pacific Railroad across the American continent.

Europe, during the great American War deprived suddenly of one of the chief products so necessary to her industries, resorted to India for cotton, and all at once the island of Bombay became not only the great centre of trade, but soon attracted to herself merchants and traders in cotton from the four quarters of the globe, each and all eagerly competing for the same prize, the monopoly of the cotton-market. Enormous fortunes were amassed in an incredibly short space of time, and for a brief period the whole commerce of the great East and West seemed to flow into the port of the small island of Bombay. Misinformed by the English press, and seemingly unwilling to investigate for themselves the true nature of the almost superhuman struggle carried on between kinsmen for the preservation of State rights and the suppression of slavery on the American continent, this eager crowd only foresaw what seemed the most natural, the utter destruction of the great republic of the United States and the magnificent future for themselves springing from the very ashes of this ruin. Thus assured, and blinded to every other consideration, even the wise and hitherto prudent merchants of Bombay became dazzled with the prospects in view, and launched forth into the most gigantic enterprises and into rash schemes for the utmost development of one and all the various resources of the country. Everywhere this feverish, insatiable thirst to profit by a great nation's approaching destruction displayed itself. Men and women who had never dreamed of speculating in stocks, the rich with his hundreds of thousands and the poor with hardly a few rupees to his name, master and servant, were alike seized with the distemper called by the few who looked calmly on "Rupea-Dewana," "the rupee-mad." How changed was the once happy population! What anxious faces, revealing lines of thought and care, of midnight toil, of mingled fear and hope! Still, the great drama went on, and for a short period immense fortunes were made in a day. But no sooner had the whole island gained sufficient encouragement to set on foot her gigantic schemes and rash enterprises, no sooner had she at one final throw staked all on the ruin of the Northern States, than came the appalling intelligence of General Lee's defeat. A fearful revulsion followed: sudden panic seized the busy world enclosed in the small compass of the Bombay "Commercial Square." Like a flock of birds, the business population took wing and vanished out of sight. The banks were closed, flourishing houses collapsed, firms disappeared, and an almost universal ruin stared every one in the face. The very atmosphere was filled with the despair of men who had so rashly staked all and lost all.

Painful as the lesson has been, it was a wholesome one, not only for all classes of merchants in British India, but for Old England herself. The merchants of Bombay are once more in their counting-rooms and warehouses, the banks are as firmly established as ever, with a richer experience and a more profound insight into the laws which govern the moral as well as the business world; they yet bid fair to render the beautiful island of Bamb DÈvi the heart and centre of all the commerce of the East, even as she is now, owing to her remarkable sanitary conditions, the healthiest city in India. She is the second city in the British empire in point of numbers, having a population of six hundred thousand, and an average to the square mile exceeding that of London; nevertheless, the average death-rate for the past five years has been the same as that of London.

Bombay—University and Esplanade.